Thanksgiving was late that year, at the very end of November. The news reports from Wisconsin showed several inches of snow and temperatures hovering around the freezing mark.
In Florida, the sun was shining, light breezes stirred the palm tree branches, and the grass was green.
We were celebrating the day with the Sawyer family out at the nursery. This was new territory for my family; since my grandmother had passed away when I was ten, our holidays had been quiet affairs involving just the three of us. Occasionally one of my father’s co-workers who was far from home or single would join us, but I had always thought wistfully of the large family gatherings I’d seen on television shows or read about in books.
Michael’s paternal grandparents had driven down from the Panhandle for the holiday, and I had met them the day before. They reminded me of Luke with their easy-going ways and warm embraces. Both insisted that I call them Gram and Poppy, and I loved feeling so much a part of the family.
On Thanksgiving Day, Michael arrived at our front door promptly at noon to collect me. My parents would follow later in the afternoon, and my mother was in the kitchen baking pies for dessert.
I had dressed carefully that morning, trying on and discarding several outfits before settling on a simple brown cotton skirt and a loose weave sweater in a coordinating tan. I blew my hair dry until it was straight and then pulled part of it back with a pretty clip.
My time and attention were rewarded by the light of admiration in Michael’s eyes when I met him at the front door. I grabbed my bag and shouted a good-bye to my parents.
“What’s the rush? Dinner isn’t until four. I was going to wish your parents a happy Thanksgiving,” Michael protested as I pulled him by the hand down the front walk.
“You can do it when they come out to the nursery. I didn’t want to get held up with all the small talk.”
His long-suffering sigh was mostly in jest, and I pointedly ignored the teasing thoughts I could hear coming from him as he helped me into the car.
“I put up the top, since I figured you wouldn’t want to be wind-blown today,” he informed me as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
I glanced up at the roof in regret. “Yes, you’re probably right.” I really loved riding the country roads with the top down and the wind rushing through my hair. I had given up on learning to drive stick shift—and I hoped that Michael had given up on teaching me--but I was always a willing passenger in the Mustang. I brightened. “Maybe we could put the top down on the way home tonight.”
“Count on it.” Michael slid his hand around my neck and pulled me closer to him. My heartbeat accelerated as it always did when he was this near. My eyes slid halfway closed, but I didn’t feel the touch on my lips that I expected. Instead, Michael was looking down at my neck. He moved the hand that wasn’t around me to brush over the scars there. His eyes were troubled.
I laid my fingers against his cheek, turning his face toward mine. “Hey. What is it?” I asked softly.
“Nothing. I just… I don’t think about it all the time. But then I see these…” he traced one scar from below my chin down to my collarbone. “And it all comes back to me. How close I came to losing you.”
I grabbed his hand and held it in my own. “Stop. It’s over, and we’re both here. Nobody lost anyone.” Even as I said it, I felt a twinge of guilty regret, knowing it was untrue. Nell had lost all, again.
We sat there, both deep in thought. Michael pulled his hand from mine and framed my face with his hands.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m being silly. This is a happy day. A day to be thankful, especially knowing all that might have been.” He kissed me then, first a light brush of lips, then deeper, longer and more involved.
He leaned back just when I had forgotten to breathe, and his lips curved into the smile I loved.
“Lots to be thankful for,” he observed before he put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.
It took me several minutes to catch my breath and gather my scattered wits. But once I did, I remembered the primary reason for my nerves today.
“So, is she there yet? Did she get home?”
“Who?” Michael asked in all assumed innocence.
“Don’t play dumb with me. You forget I can get hear you thinking, and consequently I know that Lela did in fact arrive home late last night while you and I were at the movies with Jim and Anne.”
“I don’t know why you even bother to ask me,” he muttered.
“Because you don’t think it if I don’t ask it, and I can’t hear what you’re not thinking.”
“Okay. Well, now you know. Yes, Lela was home when I got there last night.”
I listened for a few more minutes, knowing that he really didn’t object. I was becoming so tuned to Michael’s mind that our conversations were frequently an amusing jumble of shorthand as I answered questions before he asked them.
“And she was waiting for you up in your room? It was pretty late when you dropped me off.”
“Yeah, well, she ambushed me. And then grilled me for over an hour.”
“Really?” I was only slightly apprehensive. “About…?” I heard the answer before he spoke it. “Oh. Me.”
“Yes, you had the starring role. We did touch on a few other topics.”
“And did you handle it the way we discussed?” After a long talk with my parents, Michael, Luke and Marly, we had decided it would be unfair to keep Lela in the dark about my mind-hearing gift. Michael was nominated to explain everything to his sister.
My parents hadn’t changed their minds on being more open about my talent, but they had gotten to know the Sawyers well over the few weeks; consequently, they trusted that neither Luke nor Marly was likely to be indiscreet. That trust extended to their daughter now as well.
“I told her all about you—that you’re beautiful, intelligent, funny and caring. Oh, and the most important thing—that you’re desperately, hopelessly in love with me.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling in spite of myself. He might have been smug, but he was also telling the truth.
“But did you tell her about—all of me?”
“I did, eventually.”
“And what did she—oh. She didn’t believe you.”
“Not at first. And even when she said she did, last night, I don’t think she really bought it. But then this morning, while my grandparents were out for a walk, my mother convinced her that we weren’t just pulling some enormous prank.”
“How did she react after she finally knew you were telling the truth?”
Michael didn’t answer immediately, and I frowned, my heart sinking. “She thinks I’m a freak.”
“No!” Michael was emphatic. “That’s not true.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t hear what she’s thinking. But she said something like it—your mother was angry with her?” I turned questioning eyes to Michael.
“Not angry, exactly. She just corrected some misconceptions my sister might have had. In a very firm way.”
I sighed heavily. I loved the Sawyers. Already they felt very much like my family. The last thing I wanted to do was cause hurt or division.
We were quiet until we turned onto the nursery property. I had been brooding, shutting out Michael’s thoughts, but suddenly I recalled something that had crossed his mind earlier.
“You were thinking that Lela— about her being hurt. And that made me think of something that never occurred to me. You’ve told me all about the men in your family and how once you meet the one woman you’re destined for, it lasts forever. What about the women in your family? You know, the ones related by blood. Does the same go for them?”
Michael smiled wryly. “Not really. Matter of fact, things don’t always go so well for them.”
I knew there had to be a downside to this whole soul-mate deal. “Tell me.”
We had entered the empty nursery parking lot, and after the bustle of the busy autumn season,
it was almost eerie to see it deserted. Michael pulled over in front of the gift shop.
“If I drive back to the cabin, they’ll all descend on us,” he explained. “Here’s the deal with the women in my family. The first answer to your question is yes, they do tend to find the one person who’s meant for them. They fall in love just once. But it doesn’t always last.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, exactly. I guess maybe the men they love aren’t… up to the challenge? Hard to say. But it never ends well.”
“Examples?”
“Oh… well, my great-aunt Lyn. She met her husband right after college graduation. She knew, she said. He was the one. They got married a year later. Had three kids. Then one day he just… left. Disappeared. She was devastated. Eventually she met someone else and got remarried, someone who loved her and the kids. She seemed pretty happy. But when she passed away a few years ago—it was her first husband’s name she spoke as she died. Her daughter told me that she’d never stopped loving him.”
I stared at Michael. “That’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard.”
“We don’t have that many girls on my dad’s side of the family, so it’s hard to say if what happens is the flip side of what the men experience or if it’s just bad luck.”
“And Lela—it’s got to be on her mind, right?”
“Yeah. Here I tell her that I’ve found the one person I’m going to love for the rest of my life, and I know she’s worried about whether she’ll ever feel the same about anyone—and if she does, will he be worthy of that love? Or will he leave her?” Michael reached over to take my hand, linking our fingers tightly. “So that’s part of why she might seem a little distant at first.”
“I understand.” What Lela feared wasn’t that different from how I’d pictured my future before Michael.
He pulled the car into the driveway, and I took a deep breath as we headed toward the house.
The tempting aroma of a cooking turkey greeted us as we opened the door. Luke was sprawled on the sofa, a plate balanced on one leg. His father sat in a chair near him, and they were both absorbed in the football game on television. They barely looked up as we entered, but Luke called a cheery happy Thanksgiving to me.
“Where’s Mom?” Michael asked.
“All the women are in the kitchen, discussing the pros and cons of stuffing versus dressing. It got too intense, so we decided to come out here and enjoy the serenity of football.” Luke spoke without moving his eyes from the screen.
Michael smiled and pulled me toward the kitchen. “Come on, I want you to meet Lela.” I tried to quiet the trepidation that zinged through me at his words.
Over the last few months, I’d had opportunity to spend a great deal of time in the Sawyers’ kitchen. It was usually peaceful and well ordered. Today there were bowls and pans on every surface; steam rose from pots on the stovetop, and there was a steady buzz of conversation, which halted abruptly when Michael and I entered.
“Tasmyn! There you are. Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie!” Marly swooped across the room to embrace me warmly.
“Thanks—same to you.” I returned the hug with equal affection. “Everything smells good in here!” I gazed around the room, taking in the chaos.
Gram sat perched on a stool at the counter, a cutting board and a bowl of green beans in front of her. And standing at the sink peeling potatoes was a beautiful girl who was perhaps an inch or two taller than me. Her hair was much lighter than Michael’s chestnut tones; she was very nearly blonde, with the merest hint of auburn in her curls. As she turned to look at me, I saw that her eyes were the same deep brown as Luke’s, although hers were surrounded with the long eyelashes that I envied in her brother.
Those eyes were cautiously assessing me now, showing no emotion at all. And although I had promised myself that I wouldn’t listen to her mind—certainly not before I’d gotten to know her better—I heard Lela’s first thoughts about me anyway.
So this is her. Michael’s right, she’s pretty. No, wait, he said unbelievably gorgeous. I felt her fleeting amusement here as she recalled her brother’s enthusiastic words. Well, he’s not wrong. You don’t see it right away, but then—oh, crap. Can she hear what I’m thinking? I forgot. Blank mind, blank mind, blank mind…
I kept my face composed as Michael led me across the kitchen. “Lela, this is Tasmyn. Tas, my sister.”
I smiled as genuinely as I could. Shaking hands seemed to be way too formal for this situation, and she wasn’t opening her arms for a hug, so I settled for a small inclination of my head. “Hi, Lela, it’s good to finally meet you. I hear so much about you from your parents and Michael.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond at first. I could feel it. I could also hear her continued efforts to keep her mind blank.
Finally Lela smiled in return. If it was a hesitant, guarded smile, it was at least real. She wasn’t sure about me yet, but she had decided to give me a chance. That was the most I could hope for, under the circumstances.
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you, too. My parents have been raving about you. On the other hand…” She swung her gaze around to Michael and archly raised one eyebrow. “My brother never seems to have time to talk to me anymore.”
Michael was unfazed. “Sorry. Life’s been a little busy.” He winked at me, and I felt my face heat.
“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 afraid.