A Chance Encounter (11 page)

“Katie—” He thrust open the bathroom door.

“Take a seat, Taylor. Lunch is ready.” She pointed toward the living room.

Reluctantly Taylor made way as she picked up a tray filled with unknown things that smelled awfully good. He grimaced as he finished knotting his tie and followed her.

“Look, we’ve got to talk.”

“Aren’t you hungry? I’m starved! I missed breakfast this morning.” Quickly she arranged two plates with silverware and bright pink linen napkins. Next she brought over two huge pillows and gestured for him to sit down.

Taylor surveyed the meal as he sat cross-legged opposite her. “What is it?”

‘Typical Scorpio. What’s in it? What’s it made of? Will it poison me?” She laughed softly and filled his plate, then handed it to him. “To answer your question. We have long-grain brown rice, fresh snow peas slightly steamed and a fresh tomato sauce with eggplant, onion, green pepper and mushrooms. Vegetarian spaghetti sauce. Satisfied?”

He had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I don’t usually get home-cooked meals. I guess I’m a lousy guest, right?”

Katie poured herself a small glass of white wine. “Wrong. I’m glad you’re curious about what I’ve made for you.”

She was so precious. Taylor nearly reached out to touch her blazing cheek and tell her so. “Are you always so cheerful?”

“It’s noon, Taylor, not six in the morning.”

“You know, you’re right.” And cautiously, he tasted each of the foods on his plate.

Katie suppressed a giggle as she watched Taylor. The surprise showed in his eyes when he found the food palatable. “Well, do I pass muster as a cook?”

His mouth was full, so he nodded.

Trying to not say anything, Katie watched him gulp down two platefuls of food in fifteen minutes flat. He ate like a starved man; it was bad for his digestion. Katie eyed the last of the rice as he shoveled it onto his plate.

“Want some more?” he asked, before emptying the bowl.

“No, I’m stuffed. Go ahead.”

“This is great, Katie. Thank you.”

“So you’re no longer antivegetarian?”

Taylor grinned. “I owe you an apology, don’t I?”

“No, not really. You were hungry.”

“Being diplomatic?”

‘Trying to be.”

“I was starved. I didn’t eat last night because of the hazmat spill. When I got home at three this morning, I was dead on my feet, I took a shower and I hit the bed.” His eyes grew thoughtful, and he held her gaze. “Thanks for leaving me the bed.”

“I couldn’t see destroying your back by forcing you to sleep on that settee.”

Taylor smiled and leaned back, feeling thoroughly sated and relaxed. “Your cooking sure beats the hell out of the fast-food joints I’ve patronized for the last seven years. Covering the crime beat at night does that to you. I’d grab a doughnut and a cup of coffee. Sometimes I’d eat once in twelve hours. I’d be either too beat to eat or just too busy.” He shrugged. “Maybe,” he said thoughtfully, “just maybe California’s okay. It’s a special sort of place. Or maybe it’s just you, Katie Riordan.”

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. Nervous beneath his smoldering appraisal, she moved to gather the dishes.

“Don’t go,” Taylor said, his fingers stilling her hand.

Katie sat back, tucking her hands in her lap. “I’m going to have to leave in a few minutes. Maud wants to go to lunch.”

“I understand. Listen, what’s your schedule this afternoon?”

She took a deep breath. “Dr. Abrams needs me at the veterinary hospital this afternoon.”

“Mind if I come along?”

“For your story on me?”

“Yes. I’ll want to take pictures, too. Barry’s off today, so I’ll do it myself. Is that all right?”

She shrugged. “As long as Dr. Abrams doesn’t mind, I don’t.”

He gave her a rueful look and touched the spot on his jaw where the cut had been. “You really shocked the hell out of me, Katie.”

“I didn’t mean to.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Automatic reflex, I guess. I saw the blood and wanted to help you.”

Taylor shook his head. “I can’t understand what you do, Katie. The cut is healed. The world I come from, that’s an impossibility.”

“I know,” she said softly.

“And yet, you did it.”

She moved uncomfortably beneath his inspection. “You’re making me feel like a bug under a microscope.”

“I don’t mean to, Katie. The look you see in my eyes is awe, not curiosity. Okay?”

A rush of relief went through her, and she nodded. “I can’t stand being treated like a freak, Taylor. I’m not. We all have gifts. Healing happens to be mine, that’s all.”

He got to his feet and pulled her after him. Uncertainty was written on her face; he leaned down to kiss her lightly on the mouth.

“You never seemed like a freak to me, Katie,” he told her quietly, holding her wide, trusting gaze. “Every hour I spend with you, I realize just how truly special and unique you are. One of a kind.”
My kind
…but he couldn’t say that. Not yet. Did Katie feel as strongly about him as he did about her? Did she know that one glance from those lapis lazuli eyes sent a shaft of longing straight through to his soul? Did she know one of her effervescent smiles lifted his dark, brooding spirits into the light? His hands tightened on her shoulder, and he yearned to kiss her hard and long, to carry her into that wonderfully romantic bedroom of hers and show her just how much she had come to mean to him.

Devilry lurked in her eyes as she eased from his grip. “We’ll see what you really think of me, Mr. Grant—after you see what I do at Dr. Abrams’s clinic.”

He matched her grin, helping her pick up the dishes. “You’ve got a deal, Ms. Riordan.”

“Katie! Come in!” Dr. Lionel Abrams rose from his desk as Katie and Taylor entered the air-conditioned office. The veterinarian was in his early forties, lean and wearing a white jacket.

“Hi, Lionel. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Taylor Grant. He’s a reporter.”

Dr. Abrams’s smile disappeared while he gave Taylor the once-over. “Yes, I read his article about you, Katie.”

Taylor gripped the vet’s hand, noticing that Dr. Abrams had a firm handshake. “I’m in the process of trying to atone for that article, Doctor. I want to present the other side. That’s why I’m here.” He pointed to his tape recorder. “With your permission, Doctor, I’d like to photograph Katie touching your patients. And I’d also like to tape the session.”

Abram’s long face sobered as he glanced at Katie. “It’s up to you. I can’t say I was impressed by Mr. Grant’s analysis of your talent, Katie.”

She placed her hand on the vet’s arm. “It’s all right, Lionel. Taylor is here to learn, this time.”

The vet was skeptical, but he relented. He asked his assistant to provide them with white smocks. He looked over at Taylor as he led them through a side door.

“Katie comes here twice a week. She treats the animals—including those scheduled for surgery.”

“I see.” Taylor looked impressed. “And how long has she been doing this, Dr. Abrams?”

The vet smiled at Katie who walked at his side down the tiled hall. “Let’s see…four and a half years now, I believe.”

“And how did you hear of Katie?”

Dr. Abrams’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. He held open the door to the room where animal cages were kept. “Actually, I went to her bookstore to search for a book on Bach flower remedies. At the time, Katie didn’t realize I was a vet. When I saw this troop of people, most of them elderly, bringing in their pets, I decided to hang around and see what was happening.” He stopped at the first cage, which contained an orange cat, and opened the door. He handed the cat to Katie. “I asked if I could stay and watch what she did, and she agreed. So I spent an amazing hour in her back room. I noticed one thing immediately: Every animal she touched became more alert and energetic. These pets were more than just animals to the elderly people who owned them. They were companions. Katie knew that—she was clearly sensitive to it. And I was impressed with her ability to handle both people and animals.”

Taylor watched as Katie held the orange tomcat. Its ear appeared to have been all but chewed off in a recent fight. Taylor decided to take a couple of photographs. At his request the vet moved to stand beside Katie.

“Tell me, Doctor, did you believe in Katie’s healing ability?”

“Her gift? Of course.”

“Why ‘of course’?”

“Because any doctor or nurse who genuinely loves his patients—animal or human—is in the business of healing, Mr. Grant. One of my instructors at Ohio State University had hands like Katie. I saw some pretty miraculous things there at the vet college.”

“So you accept this phenomenon?”

Dr. Abrams gave him a pained look. He took the cat from Katie. “It’s a gift.”

“All right. What determines this gift, Doctor?”

Abrams shrugged and moved to the next cage. He extracted a small, furry white kitten with a bandaged front leg. “God decides. I certainly don’t.”

“Is it genetic? Katie says her mother had the same healing touch.”

“Could be.” Dr. Abrams held up his splayed fingers and grinned at Katie. “I wish I had it. But all I’m good for is cutting and sewing.”

“That’s not true, Lionel!” Katie objected, stroking the green-eyed kitten. It purred madly in her arms. She glanced over at Taylor, the flash of the digital camera blinding her momentarily. “He has the ability to heal, too. He just won’t admit it.”

Taylor put down the Canon digital camera and drew out his notepad. He had his iPhone microphone running, but wanted to jot down a few of his ideas.

“I don’t have the same energy Katie does,” Lionel corrected.

“What do you mean?”

The vet studied his hands. “Most people with ability experience either a powerful tingling, or a warmth which passes through their fingers. I get only the barest hint of a tingle, nothing more. I’ve tried, believe me. My touch does not alter the condition of a scratch or bruise, or cure a headache.” He looked over at Katie fondly. “Now, this little lady can take away a headache, stop bleeding and heal surgical incisions. I can remove stitches sooner because of her.”

“So, from your perspective, what Katie does is normal? An everyday event?”

“Of course. The important thing is that my animals get well swiftly and with a minimum of suffering.”

Taylor smiled. “Most doctors don’t quite see things your way.”

“Plenty,” Dr. Abrams agreed. “But so what? Look, Mr. Grant. What Katie does isn’t odd or unusual. The general public is simply uninformed. Healing isn’t magic. We don’t understand quite how it works, but I suppose we will eventually. Soon the medical establishment will investigate people like Katie, and they’ll learn that gifts like hers are positive and productive.”

Taylor followed them around the spotless air-conditioned room. He took before-and-after photos of the animals Katie held. In each case, the animal became more active, its eyes brighter and more alert, following her touch. Well, Taylor couldn’t blame them. He’d like to be stroked and patted by Katie, too. He noted that the amount of time she spent with her hands on an animal varied.

“How do you know when to stop?” he asked her.

Katie had her hand on a huge, gray Irish wolfhound. “The heat stops flowing through my fingers. That’s when I take my hand away.”

“Who controls this stopping and starting?”

“Not me. I try to keep my mind blank when I’m working. But you don’t have to. I can carry on a conversation, as I’m doing now, and the energy flows just the same.”

Dr. Abrams glanced at Taylor. “Katie once explained that a healer is like a piece of tubing. Her body is simply a conduit through which the energy flows.”

“But where does this energy come from?” Taylor pressed.

The vet shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. “Katie calls it the cosmos. I call it God. I’m sure others have other ideas.” He smiled slightly. “How can you put a name on love? That’s what this unseen energy really is, in my opinion—love, need, compassion, a desire to help a suffering fellow being. The healer is the vehicle for this energy.”

“You’re talking a lot of philosophy and very little evidence, Doctor.”

Katie looked up. “You’re seeing the invisible side of physics at work right now, Taylor.”

She removed her hand from the wolfhound, patting his head. The dog thumped his long whiplike tail. She smiled.

“Is that it for today?”

“Not quite, Katie. I’ve got a cat that was hit by a truck yesterday. Its skull was caved in above his eyes. I really don’t think he’s going to make it. But the cat belongs to a blind boy and he’s distraught over the loss of his friend….”

Taylor saw the sudden anguish in Katie’s face, as if she were assuming the boy’s pain. They followed the vet to a large cage where the gray-and-black-striped cat lay. The animal was unconscious; an IV was attached to his bandaged rear leg.

“Now, what I’ve done so far is to relieve the skull pressure from the cat’s brain. But the brain could be bruised or even hemorrhaging and that will cause death, too.”

“I see,” Katie whispered. Gently, she placed her left hand lightly on the cat’s shoulder.

“I was up every two hours last night to see how he was doing. At three this morning he went into a convulsion so I added an anticonvulsant drug to the IV”

Taylor took a photo. “Doctor, what are this cat’s chances of surviving?”

“One in a hundred.”

Taylor sat at his desk, rereading his article a third time, occasionally editing the text on the screen of his Apple computer. He had another hour of work to do, but he wanted to go home. Home to Katie and her apartment. Funny, Taylor mused, that in two weeks’ time, his entire life had been turned upside down by Katie and her world.

He stared at the screen, not really seeing it at all.
Katie and her world.
More and more, it was his world, too. The threatening phone calls had not stopped, and Taylor didn’t feel comfortable leaving Katie alone. He had never mentioned the prowler he’d seen at the door to her store, but he’d talked her into changing her locks to stronger ones. With a sigh, he got up, moving to the coffee machine. He smiled. If Katie knew how much coffee he’d consumed, she’d hit the roof. For all intents and purposes, she’d nearly turned him into a damned vegetarian. But she was a great cook, and he’d do damn near anything for a home-cooked meal, he was discovering. He’d even acquiesced to her demand that he help with the cooking. Now he could turn out a halfway decent rabbit food meal, too.