Page 25 of Freak
Chapter Eight
While Abigail pouredthem both coffee, Mel pulled the spare tall chair up to the kitchen island and sat. She set the mugs down and quickly plated a few chai cookies to set between them.
“Ah, yeah,” Mel enthused, grabbing a cookie before she could even take her hand away from the plate. He took a bite, and his eyes rolled up. “Damn, woman. I don’t think there’s one thing you cook or bake I wouldn’t happily eat every day of my life.”
The exaggeration made her chuckle. “You’re silly.”
“Maybe so. But I’m happy.”
His simple exclamation was a key opening a door into the thing they really needed to discuss.
Though her heart pounded an unfamiliar beat, fast and fluttering, Abigail said, “You’ve said often that you’re happy in your life. Just as it is.”
He stopped mid-chew and gave her a sharp look. “I am.”
What a frightening topic to confront—and exhilarating, too. For most of her life, she’d been content being on her own. Sure, she’d been lonely at first, but it hadn’t lasted long. Her dating life had been more stressful than pleasant, and she’d soon enough discovered that, contrary to what all the movies and magazines insisted, contrary to what she’d believed as a girl, a romantic partner was not necessary to a good life. She, too, was happy in her life, just as it was.
Yet here sat Mel, so strong and good and handsome, with his sparkling dark eyes and kind, bright smile, who’d kissed her because he wanted to. Yes, she was happy as she was, but that didn’t mean her bucket of happiness was full to the brim. It didn’t mean there wasn’t more to be had.
Letting her eyes release their focus, she studied Mel’s aura—still blue, but with shimmers of green and red along the edges. His energy was elevated, as was his interest, but he was, as always, the same good, good man.
“Just as it is,” she said again.
Brushing cookie crumbs from his hands as he finished chewing, he cocked his head at her. “You got a look just now that you get sometimes. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like you’re not looking at me even when your eyes are pointed right at me. Makes me feel like I’m missing something I shouldn’t.”
He’d noticed her studying his aura. Mel didn’t believe in most of the things that shaped her life; that was worth considering, if they were going to be together romantically. Abigail had no expectation or requirement that people she cared for agreed with her way of seeing and being, but sometimes Mel was a bit dismissive, and that might grow into a problem. Agreement wasn’t always a requirement for intimacy, but respect was.
He'd explained that he didn’t believe or disbelieve in much; he was a true agnostic, not claiming to know the truth, or even particularly bothered by the uncertainty. He figured ‘magic’ was just as likely, or unlikely, as religion, and that religions seemed mostly magical thinking anyway.
If she told him she’d been studying his aura, seeing where he was in this potentially vulnerable moment, he might smirk or chuckle. He wouldn’t mean to show disrespect, but it would be dismissive even so, and this was too naked a moment for Abigail to absorb that easily.
The conversation had to proceed with no bad feelings between them. So instead of ignoring his observation or simply telling him what she was doing, she found a different approach.
“Do you remember those ‘Magic Eye’ pictures, from back when we were kids? They were all the rage when I was in grade school.”
His smile was one of warm nostalgia. “It was middle school for me, but yeah. I loved ‘em. I was real good at ‘em, too. Used to drive my sister crazy. I don’t think she ever saw one without help first, but I never came across one I couldn’t see right off.”
Oh! That was interesting information. “Do you remember what you had to do to see the hidden picture? The way you had to look without looking?” He nodded, still grinning with his childhood memories. “That’s what I do when I study someone’s aura, hon. I look for what’s always there, but invisible in the normal ways of seeing.”
His grin faltered, slowly deflating as his eyes widened. “Huh. If I did the Magic-Eye thing, would I see it?”
“Maybe. You’d have to know what to look for, and it’s usually not real obvious. But the first step is being able to see clearly without using your eyes the way we’re told to use them.”
“What do I do? What am I looking for?”
Turning to the window behind her, Abigail considered the light. Though the day had been overcast and there had been a spate of thunder and hard showers just past lunch, now the light was clear and gold, with that extra bit of sparkle that came after rain. Good backlight—bright but not brilliant—could be a help to a novice, the way holding a paper up to light showed a watermark.
She turned back to Mel. “I want to see what you see without my coaching first. With your eyes on me, do the Magic-Eye thing, and hold there until my outline is clearer than anything else.”
He did; she saw his eyes unfocus, so he seemed to be looking at her without seeing her. She held still for a few beats; then, when she sensed he was about to give up, she swiveled her head a bit to the left, and lifted one shoulder gently—just enough movement to make her aura react subtly.
Mel’s sharp but quiet intake of breath told her he’d seen something.
Abigail had never seen her own aura (mirrors weren’t good reflectors for such things, and a mirror image wasn’t an accurate representation of reality anyway) but Granny Kate had described her dominant aura as a verdant green, with frequent threads of indigo. Auras could change, however; depending on one’s life experiences, an aura could change dramatically, and Granny Kate had been gone a long time. She couldn’t say what hers might be now.
