Unforgiven (2 page)

His observation made me flinch. I hadn’t played since the day after Maddie’s death, the day I agreed to be part of the Unseen. I’d seen her spirit so plainly, leaning against the piano so she could listen to me play, her face drawn into a relaxed smile. I could almost hear her humming along, her beautiful voice a soft whisper carried along by the notes I banged out of the piano. Part of me wanted desperately to play again, just to bring her back. Another part of me was terrified she wouldn’t be there this time. Maybe she’d said her goodbyes that night, and I’d never see her again. If I didn’t play at all, I could still hold onto those slender threads of hope.

“So, what do you say?”

I looked down at the pamphlet again. The festival was being held at my alma mater, Florida State. The performances would be in several auditoriums, so people could easily walk from one concert to the next. It was a great venue for the prestigious event, and it would only cement the school’s reputation as the premier music school in the area. Over twenty thousand people were expected to attend,
so book your seats today
, the brochure implored.

As much as I wanted to stay locked up in my room—in my grief—forever, I knew I couldn’t. I tried to smile at him, but it was like my face had forgotten how. So I nodded instead.

His face lit up as he jumped up from the bed and scooped me into his arms. Hugging me close, he spun around, and I caught the stool with my legs. It rolled across the room, but Owen didn’t even notice. He was too joyful.

He kissed me earnestly, which surprised me. We hadn’t shared a real kiss in quite some time. Sensing my need for space, he’d kissed away my tears, kissed my forehead when we parted ways, things like that, but this was different. It was full of potential—potential for our future, for the life we could share if I wanted it.

He smiled from ear to ear as he set me down. “This will be so fun, and hopefully, it’s just what you need to remind you of who you are.”

That was an awfully lofty expectation for Coda, despite the fact I had long considered it a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but I didn’t want to kill his enthusiasm.

For the first time since the day Maddie died, I found my voice. It was raspy and cracked with disuse, but it was there, waiting for me. “Thank you,” I said and weakly attempted to clear my throat.

Owen beamed at me. “Wow. You could totally play a Star Wars villain with that voice.”

Again, I felt like I should smile, and I almost wanted to. Almost.

Thinking of everything he’d done for me—and how little I’d given back—I blurted out, “Owen, why are you being so good to me?” The question had plagued me for days.

He sighed. “I know what you’re going through, Mac, and I don’t expect anything from you, if that’s what you think. I’m here to let you know you’re not alone. I’m not going to lie—I hope we can have a more two-sided relationship when you’re ready—but we don’t have to decide that now. Until then, all I want to do is be there for you.”

It was the perfect answer, and it reminded me of exactly why Owen had captured my heart, why I’d wanted to be with him once all the secrets between us fell away. Could he fill the void Maddie had left in my life? No, probably not. But could his love heal my broken heart? Maybe, if I was willing to let it.

I tried to smile at him, but the effort was too much. I’d already said thank you, so I was left with nothing, no way to show him my gratitude.

He smiled knowingly and saved me from saying more. “Maybe you’d like to join me for a movie? Remember, I have the whole day off to celebrate that you’re rejoining the world.” He held his hand out for me to take, looking at me with that same hope in his eye. This time, my chin didn’t quiver. My tears were spent, for now.

But my exhaustion wasn’t. I glanced back at my bed. This was the most action I’d had in days. It was enough for me, but apparently not for Owen.

“Come on. It’ll be fun,” he promised, still holding his hand out for me.

Silently, I took his hand and followed him upstairs. Just like that, I rejoined the world of the living, but the ghosts of my past followed close behind.

The days that followed my shower were a blur of being paraded around the facility and kept busy playing video games, doing mindless chores, or watching movies. Owen suggested playing the piano a few times, but I evaded him.

Aside from Owen, I continued to spend a lot of time with Mitchell. It was too much effort to try and form new friendships with any of the girls in the Unseen. They weren’t unkind to me, but I kept them at a distance, and they all seemed fine with that.

Mitchell and I often sat in silence in the main room, no pressure on either of us to speak. He might sit on one couch with his legs stretched out in front of him, reading a book or listening to some podcast he’d found, while I would lay on the adjoining couch, staring off into my haze, our bodies following the L-shape of the furniture. We hardly ever turned on the TV, despite its huge, imposing presence on the other side of the room. Mitchell never asked me if I wanted something to read—he just let me sit—and because of that, I found him very comforting. He was there if I wanted to talk, but he never seemed disappointed if I didn’t.

David kept his distance for the most part, and I appreciated his decision to give me some space. I couldn’t deal with the constant drain of my grief, let alone form a relationship with my long-lost father.

But, eventually, he called me into his office, apparently tired of waiting for me to seek him out. “Hi,” he said after I sat down in front of his desk, the simple greeting delivered almost cautiously.

I looked at him, not feeling like that needed a response. Responses required too much effort, for very little return. At any rate, everyone seemed to be getting used to my new, quieter nature, so he didn’t miss a beat when I didn’t answer him.

“It’s been over two weeks since…” He paused. “Since you moved in with us. I think it’s time for you to return to your training. Tracy is ready to begin tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready?”

I shrugged.

David sighed. “Now look, I know you feel like you’ve lost everything, but I wish you could see that you’ve gained a few things too. You’re not alone here, Mackenzie. We’re all trying to give you some space, but I have to tell you, your attitude is less than encouraging. You have the most potential of anyone I’ve ever seen come through my office. Will you throw that away because you’re too blinded by your grief to seize the life that’s in front of you?”

My eyes narrowed as anger loosened my tongue. He wasn’t my father any more than the woman I’d grown up with was my aunt. “So, now you want to give me some fatherly advice?”

The beginnings of a frown formed on his face. “No, I’m just trying to help.”

“You want to help?” My anger was flowing freely now that the dam had broken. “How about throwing some understanding my way, instead of judging me for the poor way I’m handling my grief?”

His frown gained traction, and I frowned back. We sat there that way for a few minutes, our disapproval for each other mirrored on our faces. Finally, I asked, “Anything else?”

“No,” he said, clearly unhappy with me.

I got up and left, considering David’s reaction to me. The old Mac would’ve been upset that I’d stepped out of line and would’ve wanted to correct it. But the new girl couldn’t find the will to care. It was easier to just let everyone’s concern flow off me.

Owen met me in the gym outside David’s office, like always. “How’d it go?”

“How is it that no matter where you are with a job, you’re always here waiting for me whenever I’m done with training or a meeting?” It came out sharper than I’d intended—almost like an accusation. I reminded myself that my irritation was with David, not with Owen. The hurt look on his face made me regret speaking at all.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” I amended. “Thank you for being here.”

He nodded. “I just happen to be good at managing my duties. That, and I asked to be given only research jobs for the next few weeks while you—” he paused, seeming to search for the words, “—while you ease back into things.”

I smiled and took his hand as we walked toward the stairwell.

“So, how did it go?” he asked again.

“They want me to start training again.” I decided not to say anything about David’s little pep talk. Talking about it would mean going places I wasn’t in the mood to go, giving explanations I wasn’t ready to give, feeling things I didn’t want to feel. Better to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“That’s good news, right?” He looked at me, searching my face for some kind of indication of how I felt, but it was an ill-fated mission. I felt nothing—well, nothing but grief.

“When do you start?”

“Tomorrow, I guess.”

We walked upstairs together. When he squeezed my hand, I wasn’t sure which one of us he was trying to reassure.

That night, Mitchell and I sat alone in the gym while Owen did some research for a confidential job. He didn’t tell me the details, and I didn’t ask—not because I was afraid he wouldn’t tell me, but because my heart wasn’t in it, at least not yet. The main room was full of nightly movie watchers, and I was still avoiding the library where my piano was kept, so we retreated downstairs.

He was lifting some free weights in front of the wall of mirrors while I sat on the floor, pulling at a thread in one of the mats.

“I’m going to start training again tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” he said as he curled the twenty-pounder to his chest.

“I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

Instead of getting upset at his simplistic response and lack of encouragement, I only felt relief. He
did
know how I felt, but he didn’t judge me, try to tell me I should be ready, or encourage me to refuse.

In that moment, it was enough. At least, it was enough to get me through to the next day.

In the morning, I met Tracy promptly at eight in my designated training room. I hadn’t seen the tiny space for a few weeks, and when I walked in, it made me long for the days before I’d been consumed by grief, the days when I had simply been eager to learn. I wondered how well the new me would do with training. The old Mac had excelled, but the person in the training room at that moment couldn’t summon the will to care. My attitude should have disgusted me, but it didn’t.

Tracy didn’t acknowledge my struggle or any of the things that had happened to me in the previous weeks, which I appreciated. Everyone else looked at me like they didn’t know what to say. Tracy knew exactly what to say, and it was all business.

“Today, we begin working on entering other people’s minds. Now, I know you’ve already done that, with a ranger or something?”

“A trail guide, yeah.” I thought back to that day at the park with Owen. It seemed like it was years, not weeks, ago. Searching the guide’s mind for information about the caverns we were exploring had been so easy—natural, almost. Now it felt like something someone else had done.

“Fine, you obviously know how to reach out. That’s great. You’re ahead of the ball game. But, it’s a whole different sport to do it with someone who has defenses like yours in place.”

I hadn’t really thought about it. In fact, I’d never considered forcibly entering someone’s mind. All the minds I’d ever read had just been there for the reading. But going into someone’s head when he or she didn’t want you there? “So, how
do
you get past someone’s defenses?”

“Creatively.” I didn’t think she was going to elaborate, but for once, she threw me a bone. “It’s best to craft your tactic based on how the person has constructed his or her defenses. Some people, like Owen, just go charging in.”

I chuckled without smiling, remembering how he’d come barreling into my mind on the stairs the day I’d told him I could push people out. His approach was less than elegant to say the least.

“Indeed. You’ll find that his approach doesn’t work for everyone. Subtlety can take longer, but it can prove to be a valuable skill if you are able to master it.”

“Subtlety…” I said, trailing off. How did you go about subtly entering someone’s mind? Particularly someone who didn’t want you there?

“I can talk to you about it until I’m blue in the face, but like everything else, you need to experiment with it for yourself.” Her blonde hair bounced as she shrugged her shoulders. “What works for me might not work for you, Owen, or David. Everyone’s different. If you learn nothing else, remember that adaptation is vital.”

I nodded and took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. But Maddie remained. She smiled at me from the corner of my mind. Really, I didn’t even want to push her all the way out. What if I couldn’t get her back? Deciding to proceed with my mental companion, I closed my eyes.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Tracy said.

Reaching out, I found her easily. I couldn’t tell if she’d done that on purpose, or if it just came naturally to me. But I could still feel her in the room when I closed my eyes. It wasn’t like I could hear her breathing or moving around; I could feel her mind working, and I moved toward the feeling.

“Good,” she said. “What do you see?”

Looking around, I found myself in a battlefield. Smoke or fog rose around me, but through the haze, I could make out a barbed-wire fence that seemed to stretch on indefinitely in both directions. The grass leading up to the barbed wire looked like it had been trampled and worn down nearly to the dirt below. Where there wasn’t grass, pits of dirt appeared, as if mines had gone off at some point. I wondered if they really had, or if Tracy had arranged it this way purposefully to sow the seed of fear into intruders. Either way, it was effective.

In spite of myself, I watched my step as I got closer, and spotted some trenches beyond the fence. But the most impressive and intimidating defense was a huge wall that climbed as high as I could see, disappearing into the haze.

“It’s a war zone.”

“Just the way I like it.” I could hear the smile in Tracy’s voice. “So, what’s your move?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest.” Maddie silently walked beside me along the edge of the barbed wire. A breeze I didn’t feel seemed to be constantly blowing her hair away from her face and ruffling her flowered skirt. Wishing she would comment or offer some advice, I searched in vain for a break or a weak spot in the fence.

“Tracy, is everyone’s mind like this? Does my mind look like this?” I wasn’t sure what I wanted her to say as I explored the chaotic landscape. Had there really been a battle there? Had lives been lost? I shivered at the thought as I walked on.

“No, not everyone’s mind is like this. I don’t really know what yours is like, in light of recent events.”

Opening my eyes, I tore myself away from her mind and landed back in the training room. “What do you mean? Someone’s visual mind can change based on their mental state?”

“Absolutely. Grief can be a weakness, giving easy access to intruders. Or it can be a trap, sucking you into a black hole of depression. As I expect yours is the latter, I have no intention of finding out for sure.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked, curious to know why she thought I wasn’t weak in my grief. I certainly felt weak. Heck, I was barely functional.

She frowned at me. “Depression is a dangerous game. One I’m not prepared to discuss with you at the moment. Today, your task is getting into my mind. Let’s focus on that.”

“But maybe if I understood, I could get over it faster.” It just came out. I didn’t mean it. Or maybe I did, who knew? The one thing I did know was that I wanted to know what it was about my grief that made my mind so dangerous.

She hesitated, and I could tell I’d hooked her a little. In the end, she shook her head. “Not today, Mackenzie. We need to stay focused on the task at hand.”

Reluctantly, I nodded and closed my eyes again. I found myself back on the battlefield without difficulty, but no matter how far I walked, I couldn’t find a weakness in her barbed wire. I looked beyond it, knowing this was just her outer defense. The challenges ahead would be even more difficult to overcome.

Eventually, I worked up the courage to try and jump over it. I laid a hand on the wire, trying to get some leverage, and was zapped by some kind of current.

“Ouch,” I said as my eyes flew open. I examined my hand for signs of visible damage. Finding none, I turned my hand over in front of her, as if to prove that the shock had hurt badly despite the fact that it had left no mark.

“Reality is a fluid concept in the world of the mind. It’s real because your mind believes it to be. You feel pain because your mind tells your hand it has been shocked. Just because there’s no physical evidence of the event doesn’t make it any less real.”

I thought about that concept for a moment, deciding it made sense to me. No one could see my pain over Maddie, but that didn’t make it any less real for me.

We worked for hours, but I made no further progress, and my hand still smarted at the end of day.

Tracy sighed and stretched. “Let’s break for today. I think we’ve both had enough. We’ll revisit this tomorrow.” She stood abruptly and left me alone in the training room. There was no encouragement, no ‘good job today’ or ‘good effort.’ But then, Tracy wasn’t big on unnecessary praise.

David was apparently waiting for her outside. The door was open just enough that I could hear their muted conversation.