Chapter Seven #2
What had happened with Francesca was even more unsettling.
It hadn’t been a vision of his future at all.
Until recently, his dreams had always been from his perspective, through his eyes.
But then with Grace, and now with Francesca, he had experienced their future, through their eyes.
What he had seen with Grace had been disconcerting, but with Francesca… Well, that wasn’t a strong enough word.
He couldn’t risk touching anyone at all now. He looked down at the gloves on his hands. He’d have to get used to these.
He rubbed at his temple. The headaches were getting so much worse. He needed Grace to find out what was going on in his head. But that meant telling her everything, and he had never been comfortable talking about his gift, even to her.
But Diana, and hopefully Francesca, were both alive. No matter how they might feel about him now, no matter that they thought he was a bit crazy, at least they were still alive.
He was pretty sure that given half a chance, Mel, being Mel, might figure out that he really wasn’t crazy.
Hunkered down in her seat in coach, Mel skimmed the news updates on her laptop. Nearly fifty dead in the earthquake, most of them on the train, and hundreds more injured.
If Daniel had seen this in some kind of vision, then it stood to reason it wasn’t the first time.
It would have to have happened often enough for him to know it wasn’t just a dream or hallucination.
No wonder he’d been so desperate. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten enough information, since he’d kept going back to this Francesca for more.
And, obviously, he hadn’t managed to stop the train.
Could he have, even if he’d known which one?
She couldn’t imagine how he could grapple with something like that.
She had done some research on Francesca, wondering if there was some connection between her and Daniel, another reason why he’d singled her out.
She’d tracked down her hometown—Santo Stefano di Magra, south of the quake zone—but that was all.
So she resumed her attempts to find out more about Daniel.
Somewhere out there, Daniel would be surfing for news, worrying about Francesca.
Her middle seat in the middle of the plane was too far away from the windows for her to see anything but tiny slices of sky.
Lousy seats on too many planes, bad food in too many little towns, lumpy beds in too many motels, and always alone.
But this was the life she wanted. Wasn’t it? Making a difference, one word at a time.
It was impossible to focus on her article with the swirl of emotions around her: angry business travelers, frazzled parents, overstimulated teenagers, and hungry babies. She couldn’t affect this many people at once, even on her best day.
The audiences at her father’s magic shows, where she had honed her talent, were ideal because they were of a similar frame of mind.
Those people were ready to have fun, which made it easy to ramp up their excitement.
A planeload of people who didn’t want to be there in the first place, each with their own problems to worry about? Not so much. She hated planes.
All she could do was distract herself, focus on digging out more details about Daniel.
She had checked his social networks, but they were locked down pretty tight, like hers.
His only public musings were about bees and environmental issues—no family photos, not much personal at all.
She had his email address and phone, but they were both for the university.
Why hadn’t she checked his cell phone when he was asleep in her car?
Her journalistic instincts had failed her there, dammit.
But she had learned a few things about his family, especially his father, a controversial figure who seemed to espouse almost everything his son opposed. Hartford Pharmaceuticals had their fingers in some very disgusting pies. She wondered if Daniel knew just how disgusting.
She had checked out his mountain as well.
Woodruff Mountain had some interesting stories floating around the journalistic ether that might be a foundation for a solid article at some point.
There had been a rumor about some kind of super meth being produced up there, but while there had been an arrest and a death, what she had read sounded pretty ordinary.
Just a backyard lab, not tied to the Woodruffs.
Then there was Daniel’s sister, who’d had job offers from several prestigious research institutes, but had chosen to run the family’s small herb business instead.
There were stories about Daniel’s grandfather, too.
Daniel often spoke of him in his lectures, but he had been a beloved local figure long before that.
Even the way that Daniel had talked about the mountain intrigued her. It sounded magical.
Mel sighed, then winced at a sudden blast of frustration from the unhappy toddler behind her. She would love to be on that mountain right now. Maybe she could somehow wrangle herself an invite…
The mountain whispered to itself, muttering in its sleep. It was one of those nights when the air coming through Daniel’s open car window was rich with the smell of loamy woods and the new growth of spring.
But he couldn’t enjoy it. Too many hours on too many planes and far too many cups of coffee had left him edgy and anxious. He restrained his urge to call home again and find out if Nick had learned anything more about Francesca. He’d know soon enough.
At least Daniel knew Mel was safe. He’d assumed as much, but he’d pestered Nick about that as well just to be sure. In a matter of minutes, Nick had been in touch via text:
A Melissa K. Noblett boarded a flight from Milan to Munich this morning and then Munich to New York a bit later. Assume that’s her.
A few minutes later, Grace texted him as well. Short, succinct and bossy as always:
You can’t save everyone and last time I checked, you couldn’t stop earthquakes either.
He had to love his big sister. Of course, it helped that she grappled with an even greater burden than he did. He didn’t know how she stayed sane.
No, he did know. Nick. Grace had Nick. Nick was firmly planted in reality and kept Grace from getting too twisted up in her own head, which seemed to be a Woodruff family trait.
Nick also had an ability, but his was just easier to live with. He had an uncanny intuition for finding connections others couldn’t see, which had served him well in law enforcement. Now he’d parlayed that into the stock market, making solid investments with almost eerie foresight.
Sometimes Daniel wondered about the investment savvy of his great-grandfather, Jeb, and even Pops. The foundation was extremely well-endowed, and their investment choices seemed almost prescient, but Pops had never shown any signs of having a gift.
Daniel sighed. Grace and Nick both had useful gifts, but neither had side effects, like blinding headaches or a sudden predisposition to fall asleep in the presence of a…pixie.
Pixie? Where had that come from? He had seen someone in a fairy-like costume sparkling with sequins and feathery trim, hadn’t he? But that hadn’t been Mel. Then again, there were those gaps in his memories of last night. Damned prosecco.
He reached for his coffee and gulped down the leftover dregs. Great. He was nodding off again. No wonder, given that he’d survived four airports, three planes, and who knew how many security checks.
He drove up to the lighted keypad built into the stone post next to the Woodruff Herb Farm & Cabins sign and punched in the code to open the gate.
He was only awake now because he had slept so well last night. Like a rock, really. After he and Mel had… After Mel had…
This is my Reverse Sleeping Beauty.
He shook his head again. Damn. His memories were playing tricks on him. He swore he would never drink prosecco again.
Driving across the meadow, he breathed in the night air and slowed down to enjoy the view.
The moon was not quite full, and the sight of the ridges wreathed in silvery fog was, as always, breathtaking.
He passed the wooden signs that directed people to the herb farm and down to the apiary and wondered how the girls were doing.
It would be a relief to go down and work with them tomorrow.
That would blow the cobwebs out of his head, like Mel and her convertible.
He pulled into the drive in front of the house. The parking lot for the cabins was packed. Even without Pops’ famous plant walks and herb talks, the rental business was still booming. Still, they needed to start up the educational offerings again. Pops would have wanted that.
What had Mel said? You’re a natural storyteller and born to teach.
It was one thing to lecture an auditorium full of students, another to interact with a handful. Besides, there was always a chance of someone touching you, especially the kids.
He took the steps to the porch two at a time and strode inside. Nick was in the kitchen, talking on the phone. He saw Daniel and gave him a thumbs-up.
“Yeah. Good to know. It was a weird coincidence,” Nick said.
Daniel dumped his bags and coat on a chair while Nick listened to the reply.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I wish it had been different. Thanks for letting me know about her family,” Nick said.
“I appreciate the extra effort. I know you guys are busy over there.” He nodded and smiled.
“Okay. Fine. We’re even, for the moment, but still if you need anything at all. Thanks again.”
Nick thumbed off the phone and shook his head. “Before you ask, Francesca’s fine. Missed being on that train just the way you hoped she would.” He stopped and looked Daniel up and down. “You look like crap.”