True Colors Part 5

"Reads your mind."

"Can she? For real?"

"I don't know."

"If that woman is psychic, I'll eat my camera," Alex whispered as she followed Charlie and AnnaCoreen around the side of the ugly shack.

"Probably be more pleasant for you in the long run if you said you'd eat a box of doughnuts," Charlie whispered back. "Krispy Kremes."

Alex didn't respond, too taken aback as they followed a brick path through an explosion of flowers in vibrant oranges and pinks and reds to the back door of a small bright yellow house trimmed in white. She could hear the gentle roll and retreat of the Gulf waves on the other side of the house, scent the salt and flowers in the air. Under her shoes, the grit of sand rasped. So very normal on such an abnormal day.

"Relax," Charlie said softly. "If you're not convinced in ten minutes, we'll leave."

Alex shot her a rueful glance. "You think it'll take only ten minutes?"

"I'm sure of it."

Alex forced her shoulders back and tried to roll the tension out of her neck. "Okay. Ten minutes. And I'm not drinking anything in that ten minutes. She probably doses you with some kind of potion. Or, wait, I bet she hypnotizes you."

"You'd buy hypnotism over empathy," Charlie said in a dry tone.

Alex shook her head. Charlie wasn't the only one who'd lost her grip. "You know what I mean."

AnnaCoreen opened the back door to the house and gestured them inside. "Have a seat in the front room while I make some tea."

Alex bit back the urge to grumble "I hate tea" under her breath. And, honestly, she couldn't bring herself to be such a grump in a kitchen so open and bright. Everything was white and accented by bright reds, blues and yellows. It smelled like lemon, like Nana's kitchen always had, and Alex felt a tug at her heart.

Charlie led Alex into a sunroom surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows. French doors opened onto a wrap-around porch, beyond which stretched a white-sand beach that ended where waves glittering in the sun began. Three white rocking chairs sat in a row, wooden seats covered with yellow-and-white-striped cushions.

Charlie plopped into one, settled back and started to rock. For a moment, Alex saw her as she'd been twenty years ago. Big sister showing her the wonders of Nana's overgrown backyard. "These orange ones are Nana's favorite flowers." "Don't touch that. It's got p.r.i.c.kles." "Nana says a hedgehog lives under the porch. I've never seen him. She calls him Brutus and feeds him Vienna sausages. Gross."

Alex checked her wrists. Still bruised and red, but maybe less so.

"Sit," Charlie softly ordered.

Alex did as she was told. "You are the one who told me the Tooth Fairy was Dad, right? And Santa doesn't exist."

"I was a b.i.t.c.hy little kid. I never should have done that."

"That's not the point."

"We're going to figure it all out, Alex. Trust me."

Alex took a breath and decided she could spare ten minutes if it made her sister happy.

When AnnaCoreen returned, Charlie rose to her feet to accept the tray of lemonade, gla.s.ses and what looked like homemade lemon bars. "Changed your mind on the tea?" Charlie asked, sounding faintly disappointed.

AnnaCoreen waved a dismissive hand. "I thought we'd try something different since we have a new guest."

Alex did her best to smile politely, even as she eyed the pitcher of ice-laden lemonade with a thirst she hadn't acknowledged before. Lemonade was way better than tea. And as she accepted the first chilled gla.s.s from AnnaCoreen, she told herself she hadn't really meant it when she told Charlie she wouldn't drink anything. The first sip carried a tart zing of flavor across her tongue so strong her ears tingled.

Charlie mm'd in delight as she sank her teeth into a lemon bar. "These are fantastic."

The older woman settled onto the remaining rocking chair, to the right of Alex, and sipped lemonade. "A friend made them."

"Your friend's a G.o.ddess," Charlie said around a powdered-sugared mouthful.

"A G.o.d, actually," AnnaCoreen replied, a smile curving her lips.

Charlie arched one brow, apparently thinking the same thing Alex was: That smile looked a little naughty.

"So, a good friend then," Charlie prodded.

Alex had to admire her sister's curiosity. A reporter to the bone.

"Oh, yes. A good friend." AnnaCoreen sipped more lemonade. Her bright blue eyes twinkled.

Alex couldn't help checking her watch. Had it been ten minutes yet?

"Let's talk about what brings us together today," AnnaCoreen said.

Charlie shifted from inquisitive to purposeful in a heartbeat. "Alex is empathic, too."

Way to ease into it, Alex thought as she buried her nose in her gla.s.s for a long drink. When her hand started to shake, she lowered the gla.s.s and cupped it in both hands in her lap.

"But it's different for her," Charlie continued. "She has-"

"Bruises." AnnaCoreen's gaze flicked down to Alex's wrists.

The trembling in Alex's hands intensified. She really didn't want to do this.

"They look better now than they did before," Charlie said. "Like they're fading. Are they fading, Alex?"

Alex felt AnnaCoreen's steady gaze on her, as though she could check Alex's blood pressure by sight-one-twenty over freaked the h.e.l.l out.

Unnerved as much by the scrutiny as the question, Alex prodded her wrist with one finger while ice chattered in her lemonade gla.s.s. She couldn't stop shaking. Couldn't stop wishing she were anywhere but here. Anything but empathic. She still didn't know what that really meant. Except stark, raving terror when she touched her sister.

The memory of Charlie's fear in that boiler room twisted her stomach, and she swallowed the bile at the back of her throat. Don't think about that, she told herself. That didn't even happen to you.

But it felt like it did. G.o.d, it felt like it did, and she didn't know how she would ever live with her sister's memories. Was that what she faced now? A lifetime of coping with other people's pain and terror?

"Oh, dear." AnnaCoreen rolled from the chair to her feet in one smooth motion an instant before Alex's gla.s.s exploded in her hand.

"c.r.a.p!" Charlie jumped up.

Alex sat there, stunned as pink-tinged lemonade dripped onto the wooden floor of the porch. Luckily, she'd no longer been holding the gla.s.s over her lap or she'd be drenched.

"It's okay, dear," AnnaCoreen said to Alex. "I'll get some towels."

As she disappeared into the house, Charlie knelt beside Alex's chair. "Are you okay?"

Alex flinched back before Charlie could put a hand on her knee, the jerky movement tilting the chair back on its rockers. "Don't."

Charlie drew back, and the surprised color in her cheeks faded. "G.o.d, Alex, I'm sorry. I know this is a lot to take in. I didn't realize you were so . . ."

As her sister trailed off, Alex tried to crack a smile. "Strong?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, her lips tight. She began gathering the bigger chunks of gla.s.s and stacking them gingerly in one hand, careful to avoid contact with Alex in any way.

Alex glanced down at the palm of her hand, where blood welled from a cut that she didn't yet feel, despite the lemonade that should sting. "She knew that was going to happen," she said, her voice dull to her own ears. "AnnaCoreen. She was already on her feet."

"She's kind of spooky that way."

"Is she really psychic?"

Charlie shrugged. "She may just be an ace at reading people. She probably saw your hand tighten on the gla.s.s."

"She's helped you a lot?"

Charlie raised her head and met Alex's eyes, a conviction there that made Alex shiver. "I don't know if I could have handled any of it without her."

"How does it work? Why us?"

"AnnaCoreen can explain. It helps when you know the . . . I don't know what you'd call them . . . the logistics, I guess."

"There are logistics?"

Charlie smiled. "In the sense that there's logic? No."

AnnaCoreen returned with a roll of paper towels and a bright yellow hand towel. "This is for your hand," she said, holding out the towel. "I'll get some antiseptic and bandages in a moment."

Alex hesitated to use the towel. It was thick and luxurious, like new. The blood pooling in her hand would surely ruin it.

"Don't worry, dear. I have others just like it." AnnaCoreen knelt to sop up lemonade. "Luckily, the cut's not that deep."

Alex pressed the clean, obviously expensive cotton to her palm and winced at the answering twinge. "How do you know it's not that deep?"

"If it were, you'd be dripping blood all over my porch," AnnaCoreen said simply, then rose to her feet, a wad of used paper towels clutched in one hand. "That's the worst of it. I'll ask Richie to hose off the porch later. Otherwise, the ants will throw a party."

Charlie perked up. "Richie?"

AnnaCoreen either didn't hear or chose not to answer, because she strode back into the house without a word.

Charlie grinned at Alex. "I think she has a boyfriend."

Alex had to laugh at Charlie's enthusiasm. She obviously cared deeply for the older woman.

AnnaCoreen returned with a first aid kit and a fresh gla.s.s, which she handed to Charlie. "Get your mind out of the gutter and pour your sister a refill."

"You still trust her with a gla.s.s?" Charlie asked as she dutifully poured lemonade.

AnnaCoreen, kneeling at Alex's feet, set the first aid kit on Alex's knee and held out a small, fine-boned hand. "Let me see."

Alex didn't move, her gaze riveted on AnnaCoreen's waiting hand. What if . . .

"It's okay, dear," AnnaCoreen soothed. "Let me help you."

Tension coiled in Alex's belly, muscles tensed so hard they began to ache. She couldn't do it. Couldn't just reach out and- AnnaCoreen took the choice away from her and clasped Alex's injured hand with cool fingers. And the world tilted . . .

I'm falling, uncontrolled and wild, grabbing for the railing, trying to stop my tumble, to slow it. Every stair step slams into my ribs, shoulders, head, knees. I hit bottom, and stars explode in my eyes, darkness encroaching at the edges and threatening to blot out the light.

It's dark, the concrete cold and damp. Everything hurts. Oh, Lord, everything hurts so much. My head, my back.

He's thumping around upstairs, stomping from one room to the next, dresser drawers thudding as he yanks them clear out of the furniture. He's looking for evidence, but there's nothing to find, nothing to prove his fears.

Except Richard is coming. Richard will be here any minute, coming to help me pack, and that's all the evidence he'll need. He'll kill us both for what he thinks we've done.

I need to move, to get up. I need to find something to defend myself.

He'll come down here and make me pay, make me hurt for doing nothing more than trying to find a way out.

The door at the top of the stairs jerks open, and the sudden piercing light hurts my eyes. Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no.

He thunders down the stairs. He's so angry and, oh, Lord, he's unbuckling his belt. When he looms over me, terror pins me to the cold concrete floor. If I could move, I'd try to scoot away.

"Don't do this. Please don't do this."

He snarls and falls on me. He rips my blouse open, and a moan of despair escapes my throat. I know not to fight back, but it's hard not to.

"Please, Frank, I won't leave you. I made a mistake. I won't go, I promise."

He's not listening. He's breathing hard, his face red with fury. "You're mine," he grunts. "You'll always be mine."

He goes to work on his fly and zipper with one hand, the other holding me to the floor. My hands claw at his arm as he shreds my pantyhose and shoves my skirt up around my hips.

I can't help it. I start screaming, a strangled, pathetic sound that carries no volume because his fingers are tightening on my windpipe- Little.

Black.

Stars.

"Alex!"

Her head felt weightless and weird. Empty. n.o.body home.

"Answer me! Alex!" Charlie sounded frantic.

"Calm down, child, she's okay now." Another voice, this one soothing and calm. "Look, she's focusing."