FEARLESS: The King Series, Book One (31 page)

“I’ll try to make sure he does better on that,” I promised Lela. “He’s lucky to have a sister, and he needs to treat her right.” I shot him a reproving glare.

He surrendered, throwing his hands in the air. “Okay, if you’re both going to gang up on me, I’ll just give up now. One decent phone call a week, I promise.”

Lela’s laughter was genuine, and the wariness she’d been feeling earlier was melting slowly.

She actually seems nice. And normal. My brother can’t take his eyes off her, that’s for sure. And he’s different, too. Is this what love looks like? Will I ever know?

My face must have reflected what I was hearing, for Lela frowned at me and her mind slammed shut. I looked away, hiding sympathy I was sure she didn’t want.

Ever observant, Michael rescued me. “Mom, do you need to put Tas and me to work? What can we do?”

“Not a thing right now. Turkey’s in the oven, potatoes are boiling away… everything else is ready and waiting. In a little while you can send Tasmyn in to help us finish up.” Marly sank into a kitchen chair and waved a hand at us. “Gram and I are going to sit down and have a rest here for a bit. Why don’t you three go for a walk or something? Give Tas and Lela a chance to get acquainted.”

I knew we all saw through Marly’s shrewd manipulation, but despite that, we filed obediently out of the kitchen and onto the deck. Once there, Lela turned to Michael.

“I can stay here. I don’t need to tag along with you. It’s okay.”

Michael opened his mouth to protest, but I spoke first. “Lela, I would really like the chance to talk to you, to know you. I know this whole situation is new, but it would be wonderful if we could be friends.” I knew I was blushing again; stepping out of my comfort zone to make a speech like that was still difficult for me.

Lela’s face was inscrutable, and I carefully blocked her thoughts, purposefully concentrating on Michael’s mind to avoid hearing Lela.

Finally she nodded. “Okay. Let’s sit out here. It’s warm enough today in the sun.”

Michael pulled me into the double glider with him, and Lela curled into a nearby chair. We were all quiet, and over the thought buzz coming from inside the house, I could hear birds calling to one another. Michael used the hand he held to tug me closer so that our bodies were fused at one side. He swung one arm around me, and I nestled my head into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

I knew he was making a statement here, presenting his sister with a unified front. It was a “love me, love Tasmyn” gesture, which I appreciated in one sense; but in another, the last thing I wanted to do was purposely provoke Lela.

She was gazing at me steadily, without either antagonism or warmth. I was working hard to keep up my mental wall, since I knew that at least part of Lela’s uncertainty arose from her distrust of my abilities.

“Do you hear… everything?”

Her question was so soft that I might have missed it. I smiled to assure her that I didn’t mind answering.

“If I opened myself up, relaxed, yes, I’d be able to hear just about everything. I might not understand it all because it would be like hearing everyone in a crowd talking at once.”

“What do you mean, if you opened yourself up?”

I shifted slightly in the swing, so that my back lay against Michael. He slid his arm down and linked his two hands around my waist. That core part of me that still wondered at the miracle of Michael and his love for me sighed in contentment. I tried to bring my focus back to Lela’s question.

“I have the capacity to block most of it. At least, I used to be able to do it. It’s not easy. It would be like you trying not to hear anything that I’m saying right now. You could do it; you could focus really hard on not listening to me, and you probably would miss most of what I say. But it takes lots of practice and concentration to block thoughts on a regular basis.

“I could do it more easily, before I met Michael. But it’s much harder now.”

“How come? I mean, I know my brother complicates things—”  she saucily stuck out her tongue at Michael, “—but why particularly with this?”

I was relieved to see that Lela seemed to be coming to terms with me and with my abilities. Michael was unruffled. He tightened his grip around me, and I felt his lips brush my hair.
My sister’s such a brat,
I heard him think affectionately.
But she’s coming around.

“I don’t know that it’s all Michael’s doing. The main difference is that I never had friends, never had anyone other than my parents close to me. Now that I do have these relationships… well, it’s the most wonderful thing in the world, but it does mean I can’t focus all the time.”

It was Lela’s turn to look at me with sympathy. “Why didn’t you have friends?”

“For the very reasons I just explained. I had to focus on not hearing thoughts, which made me seem like a pretty anti-social person.”

Lela rested her head against her hand, in a gesture very reminiscent of her mother.

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” she said slowly. “I know I must seem like a real pain. I was a little anxious coming home anyway, because of the way Michael and my parents have been talking about you. I’m used to being the only girl around here. But I was prepared to get to know you, even to like you. Then when Michael told me last night… or maybe more when my mom convinced me this morning that he was telling me the truth… it really threw me. The idea that you can hear what I’m thinking—” She flushed and looked down, twisting her fingers in the weave of her sweater. “Sometimes I don’t always think the nicest things.”

“Lela, please, don’t. I really don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me. I can avoid hearing you under normal circumstances. And I promise, I don’t judge people based on anything I might accidentally hear.” The memory of Nell flickered through my mind, and guiltily I pushed her aside. Michael stroked my arm comfortingly, and I wondered if he suspected what I was thinking.

“I won’t say that it doesn’t bother me anymore. It’s something I’m going to have digest for a while. But I do want to get to know you. If my family’s history accounts for much, it’s a fairly good bet you’re going to be around for a while.” Her smile was warm and genuine, even if a hint of wistfulness remained.

Michael spoke for the first time since we’d come outside. “I’m glad you feel that way, Lela. Because you’re right, Tasmyn isn’t going anywhere. She’s with me—for always.”

Dinner was over, and Michael and I helped with the table clearing and dish washing. My father settled down in the living room with Luke and Poppy, and my mother was relaxing over a cup of tea with Marly, Gram and Lela.

When I would have joined them, Michael took me firmly by the hand. “Mom, if you’re sure we can’t help anymore, Tasmyn and I are going for a walk,” he announced. “We need to work off some of that excellent food.”

Marly laughed. “Good idea. We should probably all join you.” At the look on her son’s face, she laughed again and flapped her hand at us. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ruin your time alone. I don’t think I could move from this chair anyway.”

Without discussing our destination, we walked to our favorite spot in the trees, in the small, protected border between the citrus trees and the evergreens. It was a treat to have it to ourselves today; in the past weeks, this section had been crowded daily as families stopped in to tag their trees for Christmas. Michael assured me with a roll of his eyes that it wouldn’t change any time soon, since those same people would be coming back to cut their trees or to buy the imported pre-cut trees. I had already committed my out-of-school hours to working at the nursery beginning the day after Thanksgiving. It was a dream job for me: I would be earning a little money for Christmas shopping, I would be able to see Michael, even if I couldn’t be with him the whole time, and I had the best bosses in the world.

But for today, our little section of this world was paradise. The sun was still shining warm, even as a light and chilly breeze fluttered the leaves around us. I hugged my sweater around me while Michael spread a blanket on the ground.

“And,” he said with a flourish, “I even scored us some dessert.” From the inside of his jacket he pulled a small plastic container with two slices of pie.

I groaned. “You cannot possibly be hungry, or think that I might be, after the meal we just ate. I can’t imagine eating for the next week.”

He looked offended. “I’m not saying we need to eat it now, I’m just saying we have it in case we need sustenance before we walk back.” He dropped to the ground and sprawled on the blanket. With his eyes still on me, he gestured to the empty spot next to him.

“Oh, am I invited to sit on the blanket, too?” I teased as I dropped down beside him.

Michael pulled my hand across his chest, so that I had no choice but to fall onto him, with my face inches from his.

“Of course you’re invited,” he murmured. “Who else would I want here?”

The wind drifted over us, and a faint scent of oranges filled the air. I lay my head down on Michael, my ear against his heart. I didn’t have to reach to know what he was feeling; it was the same thing that I felt. Utter contentment.

His hand brushed my spine lazily. “Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?”

I shifted so that my lips were just under his chin and moved them against his jaw. I could smell his unique scent, warm and inviting.

“What do you think? It was only the very best Thanksgiving—the very best holiday, bar none, that I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Was it the food or the company?” His hand had moved up to toy with my hair.

“Hmm… let me think. Well, the mashed potatoes were delicious… ow!” I protested as he gave my hair a playful tug. “Okay. So it was the company. It was your grandparents, specifically—”

Suddenly I was on my back, flipped over with a smooth move that left my head spinning. And Michael’s eyes were directly above mine, his hands on either side of my head. He was attempting a threatening expression, but his eyes were smiling.

“My grandparents? They’re what made this the best Thanksgiving of your life?”

I pretended to consider. “Okay, okay. It wasn’t the potatoes or Gram and Poppy, though I do love them.” I framed his face with my hands. “It was you. But you knew that already.”

He nuzzled my neck and moved his lips along my throat. “No, I’m not the one with the mind-hearing ability. So I like to hear it every now and then—that you still—” His eyes smoldered. “That I’m still the one. The one you want to be with.”

“The one I love.” I pulled his lips to mine, and the kiss left us both short of breath. “You’re what I’m thankful for today.”

His fingers traced my scars, as they had earlier. “I was thinking of that at dinner—how differently things might have ended. I was—am—so grateful that I found you… and that I didn’t lose you… and that I still have you.” He punctuated each pronouncement with a quick kiss on my eyes and nose, and then rolled to lie on his side next to me, one arm still across my ribs.

I heard a calling bird in the distance and closed my eyes against the dappled sunlight. It was perfect… but a part of me was anxiously asking how long it could last.

“You’re frowning.” With the tip of his finger, Michael smoothed my forehead.

“I was thinking. About the future. About next year.” My chest tightened and my eyes were damp.

“There’s nothing to worry about. I promise you.”

“But you don’t know. What if you go away to school, and you realize how much better you could do… if you meet someone else, and you find out that I’m really not the one? Or worse, if you didn’t go and then you resented it forever?”

“Hey.” Michael’s fingers were firm beneath my chin. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” I blinked, hoping the tears would disappear even as they rolled down the side of my face. He gently wiped them away.

“You know that none of that is going to happen. I love you, and even if I have to be away from you for a little while, that’s not going to change. Of all people, you should know that—you can see into my head.”

“But I can’t see into the future,” I whispered. “And what’s in your head could change then.”

I expected him to protest, to offer me more assurances. Instead, he leaned into my ear and murmured, “Listen…” then covered my lips with his own.

Tasmyn, you are mine and I am yours. For yesterday, for today and for tomorrow. For as long as time goes on, and longer still. I might not know the future, but I do know this—you were made for me, and I was created for you. Trust me. Trust this. Don’t be afraid.

And lying there, in that time and in that space, with him so near I could feel his every breath, I wasn’t afrai
d
.

Tawdra Thompson Kandle lives in central Florida with her husband, children, cats and dog. She loves homeschooling, cooking, traveling and reading, not necessarily in that order. And yes, she has purple hair.

Photo by Marilyn Bellinger