Endless (9 page)

“Ohh. One of those.” Marly nodded
knowingly.

“Yeah. And she likes Michael. I mean, she
really
likes him. You know.”

“I had a hunch about that. He mentioned her
quite a bit last spring. I was just happy he had someone up here to
talk to. . .” She slid a glance at me. “But I never worried.
Michael is a one woman man, and honey, you’re that one woman. Never
doubt that.”

I sighed. “Tell me that again tomorrow after
you meet Cathryn.”

The ever-efficient Cathryn had sent my
parents and Michael directions to the Carruthers Initiative
Institute. Breakfast was scheduled for ten o’clock—“Really, more of
a brunch,” or so said Cathryn—and we left Perriman by nine. My dad
drove, my mom rode shotgun, and I sat in the back between Michael
and Marly. Michael held my hand, his fingers caressing my wrist,
and every now and then, Marly reached over to pat my leg
reassuringly.

I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t
the small, tasteful wooden sign alongside the road. My father
turned onto the narrow paved road, through the trees that gave way
to an expanse of manicured grass. Just over a small rise, a large
white house came into view.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” I
asked.

“Oh, yes,” my mother answered. “Cathryn said
the headquarters is in an antebellum home, on a large property.
This has to be it.”

I glanced sideways at Michael and raised an
eyebrow. Clearly
Cathryn
had already won over my
usually-vigilant parents.

We pulled into the circular driveway, and a
man stepped into view so suddenly that my dad almost hit him. He
opened the doors, greeted us and told my father that he would take
care of the car, all while he ushered us up the steps to the wide
doors.

I wasn’t surprised that I couldn’t hear the
valet’s thoughts. I had a feeling everyone here would know how to
block mind hearing. That was certainly all right with me.

Cathryn was waiting in the doorway as we
mounted the porch. She wore narrow gabardine pants in burnished
gold and a muted flowered silk blouse with bell sleeves and a wide
neckline. Her heels were tasteful but stylish, and all of the
colors complimented her cool blonde beauty. I felt dowdy and
collegiate in my long jean skirt. Living in Florida had definitely
relaxed my fashion sense.

Sensing my discomfort, Michael rubbed my back
in encouragement.
Don’t let her throw you, Tas. Remember, they
want you. Make them work for it.

I smiled a little. He was right. I didn’t
need to impress anyone here. I held onto that as Michael introduced
Cathryn to my parents and to Marly. I noticed with some humor that
while Cathryn gushed a bit over Michael’s mother, Marly was
unusually reserved in response.

As we followed Cathryn into the house, I
heard Marly think—in my direction—
I see what you mean about her.
Don’t worry. She’s not Michael’s type. Or mine either.
I
smothered a giggle.

Cathryn stopped at the base of a wide
staircase and turned to us, wearing a tour guide smile. “Compared
to other southern states, there are relatively few large homes in
Florida that predate the War Between the States. Until about the
1820s, the state was mostly inhabited by Native Americans, some
Spanish settlers left over from their time of occupation, and some
regiments from the U.S. Army. Settlers began to move to Florida in
the decades preceding the war. This plantation was one of the first
built here. It was owned by a family originally from South Carolina
who settled here in 1848.”

She spread her hands wide to indicate the
dark paneled hall and the portraits with antique frames. “These are
some of the early owners and residents of Harper Creek. It was
built by Albert Evans, who named both the creek that crosses the
property and the plantation itself after his late mother, who was a
Harper from Virginia.”

“It’s beautiful,” my mother sighed, gazing up
the stairs and then peering around a doorway. “And this is where
you work, Cathryn?”

Cathryn gave an elegant shrug. “I’m not here
all the time. Harper Creek is more of a headquarters and research
facility. But I do know it well. It was actually in my family for
generations before ownership transferred to Carruthers.”

She paused, taking what I recognized as a
dramatic beat to allow us to appreciate the grandeur. “Now, I’m
sure we’re all hungry! If you’ll follow me, the dining room is
right this way.”

I could feel that there were other people in
the house even if I couldn’t actually hear them thinking. It was
like a quiet buzz existed in the place of their minds. So I wasn’t
surprised when a small crowd awaited us in the large oak-paneled
dining room. Two discreetly uniformed women stood at the ready by a
sideboard laden with food. An older man wearing a pair of gray
slacks and a golf shirt sat at the head of the table, and a couple
who looked to be about my parents’ age were on either side of him.
I picked up a few stray thoughts coming from those two and
discerned that although they weren’t really part of the Institute,
they had a rudimentary training in blocking their minds.

As we wandered in, the man at the head of the
table stood. “You must be the Vaughns. Welcome to Harper Creek, and
welcome to Carruthers Initiative Institute. I’m Harley Watson, head
of recruiting. Please, have a seat. Be comfortable.”

My father shook Mr. Watson’s hand, and we all
managed to find chairs. I stayed close to Michael. It was eerie
being surrounded by people but only picking up the thoughts that
came from my parents, Marly and Michael. It felt as though I had a
clogged ear, and I fought the desire to try to clear it.

Mr. Watson remained standing and gave a brief
welcoming speech, in essence restating everything that Cathryn had
shared with us up to that point. He placed a hand on the shoulder
of the as-yet unidentified man sitting next to him.

“This is John and Theresa Landower. Their
daughter Melissa works with us, and we thought that they might be
able to answer some of the concerns that you’re bound to have.
We’ll go ahead and eat now, and you can feel free to chat with
them. When we’re finished, I’ll address any of your other
questions.” He gestured to the two women standing by the food, and
they immediately began uncovering dishes and moving around the
table.

Michael leaned over to whisper to me. “This
is quite a show, isn’t it?” I shot him a smile and nodded. I wasn’t
sure how many of these people could hear thoughts, but I knew at
least Cathryn was probably tuned in to Michael.

Within a few moments, I had waffles with soft
butter and warm maple syrup, a slice of ham and home fried potatoes
heaped on my plate. A glass of guava juice and a crystal goblet of
ice water glistened in front of me.

“Miss.” One of the servers gently touched my
arm. “Would you prefer coffee or tea?”

“Uhh. . .” I glanced at the silver coffee urn
in her hand. “Coffee, please.”

“Regular or decaffeinated? Cream and
sugar?”

If I had known there were going to be so many
questions, I would’ve said tea. “Regular, please and lots of cream
and sugar.”

The server smiled at me, the first genuine
emotion I’d seen her display. “Here you go. Enjoy.”

At the other end of the table my parents were
engrossed in conversation with the Landowers.

“I understand you have reservations,” John
was saying. “We did, too. Our daughter Melissa is a
manipulator.”

“Oh.” My mother was clearly nonplussed. She
glanced down the table at me, but it was Cathryn who laid her hand
on my mom’s arm and answered her.

“Nora, what Theresa means is that Melissa can
manipulate minds. Some prefer the term ‘influencer’ or even the
less formal ‘bender’.” She smiled broadly down the table at me.
“Tasmyn, your friend Rafe was a bender, wasn’t he?”

All conversation halted. The only sound was
the gentle clink of the servers replacing dishes on the
sideboard.

The temper that I had been barely keeping in
check all morning surged in my throat. I felt a tingling down my
arms and into my face as I instinctively reached into a pool of
energy I’d been ignoring for months. The goblet of water flew
across the table, missed Cathryn’s head by centimeters and crashed
into the wall behind her. Water and glass splattered the poor
startled server and fell into a tinkling circle on the glossy wood
floor.

“Tasmyn!” My mother’s horrified gasp left no
doubt where the blame lay. I closed my eyes; the power had ebbed as
quickly as it flowed.

Michael closed his hand over mine and
directed his thoughts to me.
It’s okay. You’re okay. No one is
hurt. Take it easy. . .breathe in, breathe out. Find the
calm.

Aloud he said, “Tasmyn and I are going to
step outside for just a minute. I think she could use some
air.”

He pulled me to my feet and out of the room,
my face scarlet and my heart pounding.

“Excuse me.” The server who had poured my
coffee followed us into the hallway. “Sir, if you go this way, the
hall leads to the back veranda. It’s quiet.”

“Thank you.” Michael flashed her a grateful
smile and drew me with him along the hall. I sucked in a deep
breath as soon as the warm air hit my face.

Michael pulled me back against his chest and
fitted his arms around mine. “Better?” he murmured into my ear.

I nodded. “A little.” I laid my head back
against Michael’s shoulder and let his strong reassurance pour into
me.

“That was something in there.” His breath
against my cheek made me shiver, and I gripped his hands under
mine, pulled myself even tighter into his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It just—it
happened before I could think. That feeling—it hasn’t been that
strong in months. I didn’t have time to control it.”

Michael was silent for a moment. I heard his
intention before he spoke. “Was it Cathryn mentioning Rafe that
made you so angry?”

I shook my head, feeling my hair brush
against his chin. “It wasn’t Rafe. It was just all of it. Her neat
little presentation, all sophisticated and put together, making me
feel so inferior. . .and then chatting up my parents at the
table—she called my mom
Nora
, did you hear her? And then she
did that on purpose, you know. She mentioned Rafe’s name because
she wants to come between you and me. And that was what pushed me
over the edge.”

Michael turned me in his arms. He held my
face in his hands and stared into my eyes.
Nothing, no one, not
one thing will ever come between us. She can talk about Rafe, she
can wear her fancy clothes. . not going to matter. I love you. Lean
on me. Trust in me.

I smiled up at Michael, feeling whole and
healed for the first time all day. “Always,” I breathed, just
before he lowered his mouth to mine.

The kiss began as a tender reassurance but
quickly turned passionate, as Michaels’s desire surged into me. My
lips opened beneath his, and I angled my head to give him better
access. His hands moved to my back, holding me closer, ever
closer.

I moaned against his mouth as my fingers
played at the back of his neck. I pressed closer, standing on my
toes to be nearer. Michael ran his hands along my sides, and there
was no hesitation this time. His fingers tangled at the hem of my
cotton shirt and dipped beneath until I felt their warmth against
my skin. He skimmed the top of jean skirt, ran up my spine. . .

“Ahem!”

I jumped a mile. I was so involved, so
focused on Michael and his thoughts, his lips, his hands. . .I
hadn’t even heard Marly approach. And usually I was so sensitive to
her mind.

Michael didn’t move an inch. He kept his
hands where they were and just turned his head to look at his
mother. I dropped my forehead to his shoulder, hoping that my face
would stop burning before I had to look at Marly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” She managed to keep
the humor in her voice to the bare minimum. “Tas, your parents and
the others were concerned. I volunteered to come check on you—I
thought I was probably the best person for the job.” She leaned on
the porch railing, gazing out on the expanse of green lawn. “So. .
.are you okay?”

I peeked out around Michael’s arm. “Define
‘okay’.”

Marly laughed as she glanced at me. “I think
‘okay’ means that no one has to duck and run for cover from
exploding crystal.” She moved closer to us and patted my shoulder.
“Although honestly, I was happy to see you toss that glass at her
head. If you hadn’t, I might have.”

Michael kissed the top of my head. “That’s my
mom. Always willing to resort to violence in defense of those she
loves.” He moved his hands from under my shirt and smoothed my
hair. “Think you can handle going back in?”

I sighed heavily. “Yes. I can handle it. But
Cathryn better watch her back. Or at least her head.”