Mind Over Mind (15 page)

Then again, maybe I shouldn’t. He’s only here another, what? Two months? Then, he’ll be back in school, surrounded by all those beautiful undergrads, and I’ll be—hopefully—finishing med school and working 36-hour days in my residency. Two months isn’t long enough to build a relationship. Is it really fair to tease him?

Then she remembered the wine and Randall’s accusation. And Joshua’s words: I’m not teased.

All right, Mr. “I’m-Not-Teased,” we’ll just play this by ear and see where it leads—as long as it doesn’t keep leading out my front door.
She chuckled, remembering his hasty exit. He was so pitifully cute!

_*

“Pitiful. You’re just pitiful!” Joshua glared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “What kind of idiot runs like that?” His reflection glared back, not offering any explanation.

He’d driven home in a kind of elated panic, hardly aware of anything other than the pounding of his blood and the memory of her lips on his, her tongue on his ear. He wasn’t even sure how he’d made it home in the dark without getting lost. It was only by sheer reflex that he’d grabbed his keyboard before he left. He’d stowed it in the corner before throwing himself into a cold shower. It was several minutes before he was chilled enough to think clearly.

Oh, how he wanted her! He’d thought LaTisha had cooled some of those reflexes, and in fact, he hadn’t really reacted to a woman, any woman, in over a month. Then, one kiss with Sachiko and it was all he could do to keep from sweeping her off her feet and carrying her to her bedroom.

Even worse, though, was what he’d wanted to say—what he’d almost said.

I’m so in love!

His reflection was grinning. He threw a towel at it.

He could still feel himself grinning like an idiot as he lay on his bed, and no amount of biting on his cheeks could stop it. He finally gave up and lay there, smiling into the dark. Even with his eyes open, he could see her face just before their kiss, the way her impish grin faded into the most beautiful mix of surprise and attraction. And when he shut his eyes and remembered her body pressed against his—

Easy, Josh. You’ll need another cold shower.

But he was used to that. He could handle those feelings. What panicked him was the rightness of it, like someone had handed him a sheet of perfect music, and there they were, played in harmony.

Well, you can’t sing it yet, Romeo, or it’ll be the minute waltz. There is no way: you’ll scare her; the lovesick pup routine would just about kill any semblance of professionalism you’ve got going at work; and Rique, he’d be livid! You told everyone you came here to drown yourself in work and forget about women. And what about Mom and Dad? No, you just don’t say anything about—oh, man!—being in love. So you’re just going to take it easy, play things by ear.

He rolled over and punched his pillow.
Right. If she even wants to see me again after tonight. What an idiot I was! Oh, God, please let her want to see me again. She is so incredible, please let this be real!

He was just starting to nod off when the phone rang. Out of reflex, he picked it up.

“’Bout time you got home!”

“Mom! Dad!” Joshua jerked fully awake with a shock. He glanced at the clock. 2:05, just past midnight, Mountain Time. He’d been dozing only a few minutes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, but we’ve been trying to reach you since midnight, your time. I can’t sleep until I know how the party went.”

“And your mother wouldn’t let me sleep until she knew,” his father added teasingly.

“You two’re never asleep before midnight, anyhow,” Joshua retorted. It was true, and they often said the best part of being self-employed and homeschooling was that no one had to get up before nine. It had also come in handy when
Chipotle
started getting gigs. They had no problem acting as roadies, with the added benefit of chaperoning the teenage boys. “Really, I’m a grown man. You don’t need to check up on me. Besides, I’ve been home for about half an hour. You must have called while I was in the shower. Buuu-uut, if you must know, the party was great.” He told them about the food, and the entertainment, how he’d enjoyed “going solo” and that everyone had liked Rique’s latest song. He told them about the wine, and Dr. Malachi’s disapproval.

“I expect he’ll bring it up when we talk Wednesday,” Mr. Lawson chuckled. “Did you drink much?”

“Not really, just a couple of sips. She made these fantastic brownies, and they just didn’t go, you know?”

His mother laughed. “That’s my choco-boy.”

He told them how he stuck around to help clean up, then came home. “That’s about it, really.”

“Oh?”

His mother’s voice was skeptical and he found himself responding. “Well, really, the only other thing is that I was kind-of the last person to leave and well, we, uh, we kissed.” The stupid grin and happy panic were back in force, and it was all he could do to keep from giggling like a 12-year-old. Pitiful!

“What else?” his mother urged, an edge in her voice, but his father cut in: “Now, Maggie.”

“’Now Maggie’ nothing!” he heard his mother snap at his father. “Last year, I gave him his space and look what happened. Maybe if I’d asked a few more questions…So this year, I’m nosy, and you can—both—just deal.” Then her voice turned gentler. “Well, Josh, what else?”

Suddenly, Joshua had the urge to be six again, and curled up in his mother’s lap, sharing secrets. The feeling was so strong, it actually choked.
It’s too soon, don’t say anything.
“It’s stupid. Really. I—Forget it.”

“Joshaham…”

The childhood nickname undid him, and he asked in a small voice. “How, how did you guys know?”

“Know?”

“That, that you were in love? That you were meant to be, you know, forever?”

His father whistled. “That must have been some kiss.”

“
It was
!” His parents laughed, but the intensity of his feelings had made him sit up and the words poured from his mouth. “But it’s not just that. I feel so stupid! And happy, and panicked and I don’t know! It’s like there were parts of me missing, like I was an incomplete song only I didn’t know it until she came in and filled in the silences.”

“Joshaham, what a beautiful thought!”

“Oh, yeah, son. That was some kiss.”

“Dad, I’m in love. I am so in love with Sachiko Luchese!” He moaned and flopped back against the pillow. “What am I going to do?!”

“I take it she hasn’t expressed similar feelings?” When Joshua didn’t answer, he continued, his voice stern. “Then you have to slow down, young man. Get a better idea of what she’s thinking and feeling before you go expressing your undying love.”

“I know, I know, but how?”

“What did you do tonight?”

“Ran.” It was several long moments before his parents could stop laughing, his mother muttering, “Oh, my baby!” and his father, “That
was
some kiss!” Finally, his father spoke.

“You remember you have ten weeks. That’s not enough to establish a permanent relationship, but it is long enough to lay the foundations for one. You have your whole life to tell her you love her. You can afford to wait a few weeks.”

His mother took up the thread. “Get yourself a journal. Pour your feelings out there. In the meantime, if you get the urge to say, ‘I love you,’ say something else: ‘I think you’re wonderful,’ ‘I’m having a great time.’”

“’I think I should go now’?” Joshua suggested.

“If necessary,” his father laughed. “I think it goes without saying that you should avoid letting things get too physical?”

“Forget it. I’m not going there until I have a ring on my finger and a blessing from God. But it’s not going to be easy.” His parents had always been open with him about sex. In fact, he and Rique had received not one but three “talks”: the technical and psychological side from Joshua’s father, the emotional and “how we women see it” side from his mother, and the Marriage is a Covenant/Fear of God/Don’t Ruin Your Soul or Your Life side from Rique’s mother—none of which prepared him for the real thing. Even so, he’d never told them anything about LaTisha, and he could hardly believe he was saying anything now. “I mean, she’s so beautiful and so right.”

“It’s tough when you’re in love, even tougher when it is your soul mate,” his mother said. “Believe me, we know. Ten weeks, Joshua. If she’s the right one, you’ll have a lifetime to explore every aspect of your love. And you have plenty to talk about before you start talking about love. For now, just relax. Have fun.”

“I can do that. Really. I can.” He let out a gusty sigh and took in a cleansing breath. “I feel better, now. Thanks, Mom, Dad. Love you.” Their words strengthened him, and he hung up still feeling giddy, but calmer.

CHAPTER 18

Sachiko dreamed she was riding a dragon, soaring and diving through the clouds, arms spread in delight—

Then with a lazy belly roll, it dumped her off. Somehow, that was OK too, and she thrilled at the wind rushing through her hair, the lurch in her belly. As the water rushed nearer, she contorted her body into a perfect swan dive. She dove into the water warm, the bubbles tickling her. She dove deep as any pearl diver, but the water was murky and she had to go up for air. She swam. And swam. And swam. But the surface never seemed nearer and she felt ready to explode for need of breath. Despite her desperation, her limbs slowed.

Then strong hands grasped her wrists and pulled her aboard a life raft. She looked up, grateful to her savior.

Joshua.

He pulled her into his arms. They kissed. The boat rocked in a most provocative way.

The phone rang.

Groaning, she forced herself into wakefulness and picked it up. “Hallo?”

“Hi, Sachiko. Were you studying?”

“Joshua!” Suddenly, she was wide awake, the dream already a half-remembered specter. She glanced at her clock, groaned again. “No. I slept through my alarm.”

“Well, you were up late last night.”

“I could have stayed up later.”

She could just hear a soft chuckle. “Yeah. I’d kind of like to make up for that—”

“Josh, normally, I’d be thrilled, but I have got to study today. I didn’t do any yesterday, and this stuff just isn’t sticking, ya know what I mean?”

“No problem. I could come over this evening, like five, maybe. I’ll bring dinner and help you. I know a lot of memory tricks…”

“This coming from the guy who lost all his scholarships?” she teased. There was silence. “Josh, I’m sorry. That was a catty thing to say.”

“No, no. It’s OK. It’s not that I can’t study; it’s that last year, I didn’t. If anything, all those tricks are probably what kept me from failing altogether.”

“Now I’m curious. What could have kept a workaholic like you from studying? I know you don’t drink.” Again, there was silence, and she got the feeling he was searching for the best way to begin. She settled back against the pillows, ready for a long story.

But one wasn’t forthcoming. “Her name was LaTisha, and I—really—I’m not ready to talk about it. But I can be a great student, and I’m really good at preparing for tests. Trust me?”

She half-sighed, half-chuckled. “All right. You bring the pizza and I’ll give you half an hour to prove you can teach me something I don’t know.”

“Oh, I could teach you a few things,” he said in that same sexy low voice he’d used the night before. Then he laughed, as if embarrassed. “Um, but maybe that ought to wait for later. Much later. Anyway, I’ll be by about five?”

“It’s a date.” She hung up, then nestled back down for a moment. Part of her wanted to go back to sleep, just a few more minutes, maybe find that dream again. With a resolute sigh, she pushed off the sheets and got up.
Study
date or no, she wanted to get as much studying done as she could before the date.

_*

Ydrel lay in bed, the covers pulled tight over his head, trying to block out the brightness of the morning sun. It had to be past 10:00, but he wasn’t ready to face the day, especially not after the night he’d had.

The Master had again caught him in his dreams. This time was another night of talk, and Ydrel had been forced to hold a kneeling position while the Master preached about his people and their Holy Mission. For what seemed like hours, he stayed on his knees, fighting the seductive pull of the Master’s words and the emotions he projected with them. An objective, distanced part of him knew he was being manipulated, but the more immediate, feeling part of him strained to take in each word, longed to believe there were such things as a brotherhood, and Manifest Destiny, and a Glorious Plan that was worth all sacrifice. He leaned toward his Master; a part of him screamed, “NO!”

“Oh, who cares?!” he suddenly burst out. “You may have a family and a noble cause, but I have to fight to prove my sanity by day and fight your demons by night. I have no family, no brotherhood, no great destiny. Why do you bother telling me all this?” And he sank down, sobbing.

In a moment, he felt a strong but oddly soft hand cup his chin. His vision blurred with tears and his thoughts with confusion as he met the Master’s compassionate gaze. “You do not understand, do you? You have been called to further Our Cause. To be part of Us. That is why I train you, and so hard, and only abandoned you when my People needed me more. You will be our greatest asset, if you just work and learn. When you are ready, I will call you away, forever, and
you will join with us.
You understand now, do you not?”

With his words came a feeling of such warmth, and comfort and belonging that Ydrel had to blink back new tears. He didn’t even notice the part of himself screaming as he nodded.

“Good. Then let us begin.”

Suddenly, he was in the arena, weaponless. Five creatures advanced on him. They looked different from any he’d fought before, more human, yet just as lethal. In desperation, Ydrel spun, kicking up fog in hopes of seeing his sword.

The Master’s voice echoed in the gloom. “You don’t need that weapon. Use your mind! Kill with your thoughts!”

And he did. He took several wounds that sent pain lancing through him and tore at his concentration, but he eventually dispatched all five of the demons. He fell to his knees, gasping. Then that warm sense of belonging washed over him again, and he curled up, as if he could somehow wrap himself around it.

Now, in the light of day, he realized how easily he was being manipulated, and what price he was being asked to pay for his belonging.
They don’t want me; they want someone who kills at a distance, like a human SCUD.
Shame and anguish made his stomach hurt. He shut his eyes and curled up tighter, hoping a little more sleep might take away the pain.

When he sensed Roger enter his room, he knew his hopes were in vain.

“Most people knock,” he grumbled irritably. He was speaking more to release some anger than because he thought he’d embarrass the orderly. Roger had a nasty streak. Most patients—those sane enough to care—learned not to cross him. He was very good at inflicting “accidental” hurts and little digs to fragile self-esteems. Most of the nurses disliked him; Sachiko actively hated him. She’d been watching him, taking careful notes of his behavior, until Malachai had her “promoted” to swing shifts where she didn’t have a chance to check up on him.

After all, he couldn’t lose one if his most faithful minions, could he?

Roger laughed as if he found such a courtesy funny. “Get up. Doctor Malachai wants to see you.”

“Then let him come here.” Ydrel pulled the covers tighter over his head.

“Doctor Malachai doesn’t go to crazies’ rooms.”

“No, he just sends you to fetch them. Does it bother you to be treated like a dog?”

“Get up!” Roger growled, which Ydrel found funny, but then Roger grabbed at the covers and Ydrel knew he wouldn’t be put off. Ydrel held fast to the thin blanket. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared much, but he didn’t know what new wounds might be visible past his pajamas.

“All right! Let me get dressed. Alone,” he added irritably when Roger didn’t move.

“What’s the matter?” he sneered. “Shy?”

“No,” Ydrel sneered back. “What the matter with you? Got a thing for watching young men dress?”

His remark must have hit home, because with a snarl to hurry up, the orderly retreated and slammed the door shut.

Ydrel rose slowly and went to examine himself in the bathroom mirror and stared with surprise at his uninjured body. His old wounds had been healed, and he didn’t see any new ones, though he knew the monsters had scored on him more than once last night. Some reward, perhaps? Whatever the reason, he could actually wear a short-sleeved t-shirt for the first time in weeks. He tossed on a light blue button-down and jeans, put on slippers—he was not wearing shoes for Malachai—and followed the orderly to Malachai’s office.

As usual, Malachai was seated behind his vast, orderly desk, like a king granting royal audience. Ydrel ignored him and scanned the room. The door to the cherry wood cabinet was closed, hiding the equipment it contained, but a straight-backed chair stood next to it. Ydrel knew what that meant—tests of some kind. He sauntered in and plopped down sideways on a leather chair, one leg tossed carelessly over the arm. “What’s up, Dolfus? Got an article due?” He bounced one slippered foot in the air.

“In fact,” Dr. Malachai said evenly, “since the arrival of our young intern—”

“He doesn’t belong to any of us. Least of all, you.”

“—our time together has been somewhat curtailed,” the psychiatrist spoke as if he’d not been interrupted. “So I’ve come to spend some of my weekend mornings with you. To work, yes, since the reason you’re here is to learn to control those unusual talents so you can function on the outside, is it not? But also to talk.”

“Talk?”

“We did do such a thing, not so long ago.”

Yeah, before I figured out how you twisted my words and used my talents for your own gain.
But he shrugged and settled down so that his head was pillowed on one overstuffed arm and both feet were up and nestled into the wing of the chair. It seemed to ease the ache in his stomach a bit. Malachai made no comment, but Ydrel knew he would note his behavior in his next report. Let him. “So. How was the party last night?”

“I didn’t realize you were aware of the staff function last night. Joshua mentioned it, I gather?”

You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?
In fact, for a moment, he had a vision—Malachai’s vision—of Joshua, puppydog-like, chattering excitedly about his first adult party. If he hadn’t been so irritated at the idea, Ydrel would have been surprised. Normally, Malachai was a blank wall to him. “No,” he said, glad to burst the older man’s bubble. “Quite a few of the other staff were discussing it, though. I guess it’s been about two years since she’s had a party, they said. They’re all very happy to see Sachiko come out of her shell and entertain again.”

“Indeed.” Malachai’s gaze actually wavered a moment. She had always made it a habit to throw a big dinner party once a month. After the abortion and her interrupted attempt at suicide, she had stopped socializing at work altogether.

“Yes, indeed. In fact, some of them were wondering why she stopped in the first place.”

“Well.” Malachai paused a moment, looking at some papers. He tried to make it seem a deliberate move, but Ydrel could tell he’d knocked the senior psychiatrist off balance. Malachai didn’t know how much he knew, nor how. Ydrel was fine with that—let him think it was his psychic powers. Better yet, let him think some rumors were starting. “Well, shall we begin an exercise?”

“You mean an experiment, and no, we shall not.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’d like that. I said, we shall not do an exercise today. I am tired, and my stomach hurts, and frankly, we’ve been doing your ‘exercises’ for years and they don’t work. If the best you can come up with is hooking me up to that machine”—with one foot, he pointed to the specialized EEG that waited behind the cabinet doors—”then perhaps I need to seek help elsewhere.”

“Such as from your friend, Joshua?” Malachai spoke with a calm controlled voice, and Ydrel knew he’d stepped over the line.

Well, nothing he could do about it now. “Such as with anyone who will treat me like something other than a lab rat.”

Malachai spoke softly. “You are not a lab rat, Ydrel. You are a strong and caring person with a complex and fascinating condition. I can’t help feeling that if we just knew more about what caused it, we could better bring it under control.”

Ydrel might have believed him, had he not had a similar experience with the Master last night. Now, he just snorted and stared at the ceiling.

Malachai spoke again. “In all the years we’ve worked together, I’ve never tired of you. Indeed, you have become a primary focus of my practice. Young Joshua, on the other hand, is here to study psychology; his work with you is a favor for Edith, really, and I’ve seen indications that he’s beginning to resent that.”

Listened to that speech, did you?
Anger burned away any feelings of uncertainty Ydrel may have had about Joshua. Intern Joshua had always been straight with him, even when irritated, while Doctor Malachai, concerned Doctor Malachai, was tapping his room. He stared at the ceiling until he had control of his features, then tilted his head to look laconically at the psychiatrist.

“You really believe an inexperienced teenaged intern is going to teach you to control you abilities enough that you can leave this place?”

Ydrel said nothing. The whole line of questioning was starting to make him sick again. He wanted to go lie down. “May I go now?”

“Very well.” Malachai turned to his computer.

The royal audience was over.

_*

When the doorbell rang promptly at 5 o’clock, it was all Sachiko could do to keep from leaping over the coffee table in her enthusiasm.
You’re acting like a giddy teenager,
she chided herself. Nonetheless, when she peeked through her peephole and saw Joshua standing there, smiling, she felt a thrill of butterflies below her sternum. She hoped it didn’t show when she opened the door.

“Hi.” His smile broadened. “You look beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to.” In fact, she’d changed at least three times that day, trying to find something that was casual but not too grungy, nice without being provocative. She’d finally settled on a pair of soft cotton drawstring pants with a matching t-shirt. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail and purposely refrained from putting on make-up. They were going to study or she was going to toss him out, she’d told herself each time she’d felt the urge to put on just a little blush. Now, she wondered if maybe some make-up wouldn’t have been a good idea, after all, if only to minimize the flush she felt sure was showing on her face. “Come in. What have you got in the bag?”