Chapter Nineteen

Edward sat across from Olivia as they ate the light lunch he’d prepared, a tuna salad, tomato bisque soup and fresh fruit. He’d been trying to get around to explaining his power to her for the last thirty minutes but hadn’t been able to work up the nerve.

The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was crazy. If she rejected him, he didn’t know what he’d do. And that scared him almost as much as taking the risk to heal her.

He cleared his throat. “Meemaw. I want to talk to you about something important.”

“You can talk to me about anything, child. I hope you know that.” She gave him an encouraging smile.

“This is hard for me. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of a nut.”

“I don’t think I’d ever think that.”

“Just wait until I tell you, then say that.” He chuckled.

She sat back in the kitchen chair. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

He inhaled, held it then let it out. “I have the power to heal, Meemaw.”

She just stared at him as if she were waiting for the weird part.

“Did you hear me? I said I have powers.”

“I heard you.” She nodded. “What about it?”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “What about it? I just told you I can heal people, and that’s all you say? Not ‘you’re crazy.’ Not ‘I don’t believe it.’ Not even ‘prove it to me’?”

“Edward. I’ve been alive for almost eighty years and I’ve seen a hell of a lot of stuff I can’t explain. Lots of people claim they can heal. I’ve even seen it once or twice.” She grinned. “Not saying I believed what I saw, but that don’t mean it didn’t happen.”

“Do you believe me?” He reached out and touched her hand. It was so important to him that she believed. She twined her fingers with his.

“I do. I believe that you believe it. Sometimes, that’s all that’s needed.”

“I want to try to heal you.”

She sat back, her smile slipped, and she stared at him. “Heal me?”

“Yes. Whatever you have, I want to help take it away. I can do it—I’m not just pretending.” More than anything, Edward wanted to do this for her. He wanted to save her, even if it was for selfish reasons.

She smiled at him. Indulgent, as if talking to a child. “That’s sweet of you, but…”

“But nothing. I can do it. Give me your hand again.” He held his out, waiting for her. He looked into his grandmother’s eyes, trying to see a sign of judgment. He’d beg if he had to, anything to make her believe he could do this.

She slipped her hand on top of his, palm to palm, and nodded once.

Edward closed his eyes. He had no idea what he had to do—he only knew he had to do something. Just enough.

And it was strange, but he wasn’t afraid.

Concentrating, he focused on the skin of her hand, soft and warm against his. Beneath it, he could feel the beat of her heart. He opened his mind to the power, his pulse matched hers and he breathed in time with her.

Edward opened the thin door between them and searched for the pain. It was buried deep, nowhere near the surface. Unlike Jack’s, it didn’t come screaming at him. Instead it hid, lurking in her body, as if it knew he searched for it and meant to take it away.

There was something there. Jack’s pain had been red and white and scorching hot, but this was quiet. Dark. Menacing. Waiting for him like a predator lurking in the woods.

More dangerous than anything he’d ever faced before.

If he didn’t do this right, it would kill him. For a second, he wavered, instincts for self-preservation almost overtaking him, but he dug in to his resolve and held it up like a shield.

And slowly pulled at the darkness. Wicking bits of it away. Absorbing strings, strands of the menace, into himself.

They passed through him, each one searching for an anchor in his body, a place to burrow into him.

He let them continue their journey, offering no anchor, no home, only a conduit.

More dark pieces came at him. The slow bleeding, once a trickle, now seeped. The dam that held them back threatened to burst.

It was time. Edward pulled away, separating himself from Olivia, until they were each their own beings.

Olivia shuddered and Edward opened his eyes.

“What did you do?” she whispered. She clutched at her stomach with both hands, her eyes wide with wonder, not fear.

Edward swallowed. “I took some of it away. Are you all right? Are you hurting?”

“I’m…fine. No, not fine.” She blinked and gazed down at herself. “I’m not hurting.” Then she glanced up at him and grinned. “Good Lord, child. You really did it.”

He nodded. “I did.” He’d never felt prouder.

“I never thought you’d do it. That maybe it was some kind of mind trick, like a placebo. But I know the pain I live with each and every moment, and it’s gone. Vanished.” She sat back and put her hand to her mouth. “Edward. Did you cure me?”

Edward bit his lip. He had to be honest. “No. But I took some of it away. Pain mostly.”

“Will it hurt you?” Her eyes reflected worry. “I’d just die if anything happened to you because of me.”

“No, Meemaw. I’m fine. It sort of flows out of you and through me, and then out into…wherever. I’m not sure where it goes, but it’s not in me.” He shrugged. “I really don’t know why or how, I just know it is.”

“How long have you had this power?”

“Maybe all my life, but I’ve only consciously used it…about the time Father died.” He gave her a weak smile.

“Edward. Did you try to heal him?” Olivia whispered as her eyes widened.

The memory of that day flooded Edward. His father lying in the bed, his heart struggling to work. His mother dialing nine-one-one, keeping her panic at bay, but Edward could smell it on her. Just as he could smell death clinging to his father.

He’d reached out to take his father’s trembling hand.

And his father had jerked away, refusing to let Edward touch him. Even as he lay dying, he couldn’t bear Edward’s touch. It had been the final rejection in a long string of rejections.

Edward’s eyes filled. He hadn’t planned on telling her. He’d never told anyone about his attempt to save his father. After all, it was easy to say, ‘I could have saved him, but he refused.’

The hard part was to admit, even to himself, he hadn’t tried hard enough.

“Edward?” She took his hand. He glanced up at her.

“No. It was after that,” he lied.

She sighed and her shoulders relaxed. “I’m sure you wish you’d been able to help him.”

“Yeah.” He gave her a quick smile. “I’m glad I could help you.”

“Me too.”

Edward paused. “If I could cure you, would you want me to?”

Olivia stared at him for a long time.

Just when he thought she wasn’t going to answer the question, she said, “Offering hope to a dying person isn’t the worst thing someone could do. The worst thing would be to do it at the expense of your own life.”

“I’m not sure what that means.”

“It means I wouldn’t save myself and damn you to this hell. I couldn’t live with that on my head.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Playing God is a slippery slope,

child. Easy to slide down and almost impossible to climb up.”

 

* * * *

 

Jack threw himself into his work—he even sat in on the shift change and gave a quick briefing on safety. Then he went back to his paperwork, looking over the warrants for the week. Picking one up, he read it over and grinned.

He picked up the phone and called Brian. “Hey, it’s Jack. I see you applied for a search warrant for Jimmy’s house to look for the baseball bat his wife used to wreck his truck?”

Brian chuckled. “Yeah. I went to see her the other day and she was shaking so bad she practically confessed. I’m sure she’s still got whatever she used hanging around the trailer.”

Jack frowned. “It’s a shame. He deserves worse than just getting his truck beat up.” The man was a low-life. Trailer-park trash of the worst sort, just like his parents.

“I know that, Chief. I could see bruises all over her. I know he beats her, but unless she calls it in there’s nothing I can do. I gave her that card you had made up about the women’s shelter in San Antonio.”

“She take it?” Jack had heard about the shelter from a cop he knew in San Antonio and had the cards made up just in case. She wasn’t the only woman around here getting the crap beat out of her on a regular basis. It was something that shamed him about Spring Lake, though he supposed it happened everywhere. He couldn’t understand hitting someone you were supposed to love, despite the beatings he’d had at the hands of his father, someone who was supposed to love him.

“Yeah. But I don’t think she’ll ever use it.” Jack could hear the resignation in Brian’s voice. “Jimmy’s not much, but at least he’s paying the bills. And she’s got two kids with him.”

“The sad thing is most of these women are too poor and too frightened to get out. Until it’s too late and someone winds up dead.” He’d seen it many times over the years in his job. Too damn often.

“If the judge signs it, I’ll pick it up later this morning and do the search before I go off-duty. You’re still coming out to the ranch tonight, right?”

Jack had forgotten about the poker game. “Yeah. Be there around six?”

“That’s great. Do you remember Mitchell and Sammi, my friends from Houston?”

“Yeah, sure do.” Brian’s best friend Mitchell had helped him move to Spring Lake. Jack had met him once, when Brian and Rush’s relationship was at a rocky point. Mitchell had seemed like a nice guy and a good friend, and Sammi had been with Mitchell. Younger. Sexy. Sammi reminded Jack of Edward. “It’ll be good to see them again.”

“It will. I haven’t seen them in months. Well, I’ll see you later.”

“If I’m not around, just pick up the warrant from Kristen.”

“Will do.” Brian hung up.

Jack sat back, an uncomfortable feeling climbed up his spine. So far, it looked like everyone at the poker game tonight was gay.

How the hell did he figure into this?

His stomach did a flip and he ran his hand through his hair.

Had Brian figured out he was gay? Jack had never given any hint, had never let it even be suspected. He’d been so damn careful.

Oh fuck. Jack’s body started to tremble as panic rose like bile in his throat. He took a deep breath to calm himself. There was no way Brian knew. No fucking way. It was just Jack’s worn-out nerves. He’d been feeling so out of sorts. Lack of sleep, that’s all.

Brian didn’t know shit.

Unless Edward had told him.