an excerpt

Again, random piece. Won’t make a bit of sense. But whatever. Enjoy. Comment if you like it. 
Picture: Lindsay’s smirk (or as close as I could find)

(Michael is Lindsay’s adopted father, Beth is her birth mother, Lindsay had no idea they were in love until much much later. Beth and Lindsay are clairvoyant. Brett is Lindsay’s husband.)

Title: untitled so far.

Chapter 11
Michael’s perspective

I felt her hands on my shoulders, and I forgot what I was doing. That soft touch drove heat right through my arms and straight into my heart. An image flashed through my mind. It wasn’t a memory or a whim or a fantasy—it was a question, a desire, a plead. One that she placed there. That image was very appealing.

I loved the fact that she could break into my mind like that. For her, it was as simple as opening a door. She gave me another picture, what she was seeing, and I watched like I was having an out of body experience as she bent down slowly and kissed my cheek.

I turned to look at her and feasted my eyes on what I’d longed for for so long. For almost twenty years I’d loved her… but she’d belonged to someone else. Now she was finally mine. I felt a slow smile spread over my face and I looked deep into her mysterious amber eyes. Sometimes they were flat, and I could see reflections of myself in them. But sometimes they were so deep I could drown.

I pulled her face down and kissed her deeply. She sighed and I saw, when I opened my eyes, that one of her rare smiles had stretched across her lips. I touched her lips with one finger.

“I feel like a school boy.” I said quietly, feeling foreign things race through my bloodstream. I hadn’t felt like this in years…

“You don’t look like one.” She murmured as she stroked my face with her fingertips.

Then she stood up and all the magic threatened to break, but I wasn’t ready to be done yet. I assumed it was because someone was coming. But I didn’t really care who saw us—everyone knew, and everyone around here was pretty open about loving their spouses. I stood up with her and drew her against my body and kissed her as hard as I could, like I did the day—

Don’t think about that, I heard her tell me with her mind, telling me to forget the painful memories.

Done. I thought back, and I smiled as I kissed her nose.

Then the door opened. Beth stood ramrod straight and pulled away from me. I looked in the doorway.

Lindsay.

Oops.

Lindsay stared at me with a blank expression. Her eyes looked focused and her stance was alert.

She was in agent mode. Why? I wondered. She’s not on assignment until tomorrow.

Beth breathed deeply and had a splash of pink across her cheeks. She looked at Lindsay slightly embarrassed. Lindsay ignored her and looked at me.

“Um… I need to talk to her.” was all she said. I raised my eyebrow, surprised at her request. Lindsay hadn’t really spoken to Beth since bringing her home. I wondered if they’d had an argument, or if Lindsay just wasn’t ready to accept her. I nodded, and patted her shoulder as I left the room.

I almost walked into Brett when I turned down the hall.

“Hey, have you seen Lindsay,” he asked, a confused expression on his face.

“Yeah, she just went in there.” I pointed behind me with my thumb. “Why?”

Brett seemly didn’t hear me, and started to go past me, but I stopped him.

“She’s talking to Beth. She wants to be alone.”

He looked a little flustered, but nodded in agreement. “Ok. I’ll get her later.”

“Has she thrown anything lately?” I asked, just for the excuse to see her pottery.

“Yeah, you want to see?” He lead me towards their room and into the pottery studio. “She’s been painting more, too. I think it helps her.”

“she still sick?” Lindsay had PTSD from her wretched experience six moths ago… I pushed it from my mind.

“Michael… she won’t take the meds. And she can’t sleep for more than a few hours at a time. She threw up last week.”

I sighed, looking at the painting on her easel. It was a shack up in the mountains. It was a beautiful painting, with magnificent mountains and glittery snow, light reflecting off the snow and casting funny shadows everywhere. But there was a touch of horror in the painting as well. In the shack, through the open door, there was blood seeping through into the snow, the edge of a hand laying on the ground, and a faint shadow of a figure crouched with a knife.

She was painting her nightmares.

“she’ll be ok when she gets through this, Brett. It’s just going to take a while.” he nodded.

“I feel so helpless.” He whined and sat on her chair. “All I can do is lay there and watch her toss and turn while she sleeps, wipe her face off when she wakes up crying.” He looked up at me from where he sat. “Michael, you know her. She hardly ever cries.” He choked on his last sentence.

“I feel helpless too, Brett. It doesn’t help that I brought her mom home and Lindsay hates her.”

“Do you wish…”

“That I hadn’t brought Beth back? No. Lindsay will learn to love her, or at least accept her. It’ll be hard for her, though. But I think she’s willing to try.”

“Why.”

“Same reason she didn’t kill her oversees six months ago. Because Beth loves me and Lindsay loves me. Lindsay wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Lindsay loves me, and she’s hurting me.” he muttered.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Brett.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what I want to hear.”

 

~H