Healer (The Healer Series) (25 page)

What the hell is going on? Why am I dreaming a conversation between Rhett, Sarah, Hudson, and Whit? Why is Hudson so mad at Thomas?

“I’ll stay as long as it takes,” Rhett says.

“Rhett!
” Sarah gasps with disbelief. “You know you could—”

“I know
, Sarah!” he shouts, interrupting her.

“Then what?” she questions. “What happens if—”

“
It won’t!” he growls.

“Would you guys leave us for a moment?” Sarah asks
, and I hear commotion as Whit and Hudson exit.

“What’s going on
, Rhett?” Sarah whispers. “We said we would try. We both knew we might not be able to.”

“If we leave, he will return. They are all in danger if that happens.”

“If we get stuck, then we’re all sitting ducks.”

“
I can’t leave her, Sarah. I understand if you need to leave. I won’t fault you.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“We can do this, Sarah.”

“
I’m not sure we can.”

“I can do this,” h
e says, ignoring her.

“I hope you’re right.”

“No more shenanigans like the shower bit, okay?” Rhett says firmly.

“I don’t know what you mean,
” Sarah snickers.

My subconscious is obviously overwhelmed and failing me
, because nothing makes any sense.

“Rhett!”
I yell, but they continue talking. I still can’t see anything. I’m in complete darkness. “Rhett!” I yell again.

“Did she—”
I hear Sarah begin.

“S
he said my name,” he interrupts her.

“Ald
o?” Rhett’s voice fades as he calls my name.

Suddenly
, I’m sucked into another scene. I yell Rhett’s name again and again, but I hear nothing. I look around and realize I am in the living room of our apartment in Florida. I walk down the hall to my room, where Beau’s crib sits against the back wall. As I approach it, small little murmurs fill my ears, much like a baby would make. I peek over the rail of the crib, and Beau smiles up at me. I smile back, but don’t touch him. “What is wrong with me?” I whisper to him. He coos to me and kicks his feet down. He’s almost six now, but he was a baby the last time I saw him so this is how my subconscious remembers him.

“
I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” I whisper.

Whit enters
the bedroom and looks at me coldly, passing by me to pick Beau up. I can feel the anger and disappointment rolling off of him. That’s how I left Whit. Angry.

“This isn’t your son,” h
e says agitated.

I stare at him blankly. Where is my subconscious coming from with this?

“Of course he is,” I stammer.

“You’re no mother.”

Tears sting my eyes with his words. He’s right. A real mother wouldn’t abandon their child like I did. I may have given birth to Beau, but I have never been a mother to him.

“I t
hought you would be gone by now,” he says, bouncing tiny Beau in his arms.

“
I’m about to leave.”

“Well, have a good trip.” H
e walks by me and exits the room.

“Whit
,” I call after him, but he doesn’t return
.

.

fourteen

I wake
up in my room at the farmhouse, my face clammy and wet with tears. What could my dream mean? Had I absorbed some kind of information from Rhett, or was I having a random dream?

I walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth and eye the mirror again, still in disbelief the crack from this morning is gone.

I go downstairs and I don’t hear anyone stirring
, so I walk out onto the porch. The afternoon is absolutely beautiful. The air is warm and dry, so I take my time walking to the barn. The sun hangs just above the tree line in the distance, washing the land in an orange haze. My mind stirs, trying to decipher the conversation I had just dreamed about. When I reach the barn, I walk to Bruno’s stall and pet him apprehensively, when he pushes his large head into my hand.

“I wish
I could be a horse Bruno.” I smile at him as if he can understand me. “I’d spend all day in the meadow and run everywhere.”

“It would be fun for a while,”
Rhett says from the barn entrance.

I jump, startled by his interruption. He wears a black t-shirt and jeans with flip-flops, and I hold back a gasp at the sight of him. My eyes run up and down him and the image of his wet naked body flashes through my mind before I give myself a mental slap and snap my eyes away.

“It’s
gotta be better than being human,” I counter, hoping he didn’t catch the eye rape I just gave him.

“
Maybe he wishes he could be human for a day.”  Rhett pets Bruno.

“How old are you?” I ask
, realizing I never found out.

“Twenty-one.” A wolfish grin spreads across his face.

“You know what I mean.”

“You really want to know?”

I nod.

“Technically, I’m forty-seven.”

“That’s it?” I
gawk.

“What?” He laughs.

“I just thought you would be at least a hundred or something.”

“So sorry to disappoint you
, Aldo.” He laughs as he turns and walks to the other end of the barn. He opens a small cabinet attached to the wall and pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Have a drink with me?” H
e shakes the bottle gently.

“I’m not much of a drinker,
” I warn him.

“I’ll take my chances.” H
e exits the barn and walks towards the fence. I follow, curious to see what he’s up to.

He leans against the fence
, sipping from the bottle. When I join him, he holds the bottle out to me.

I take it
and toss it back, immediately coughing from the burn.

“Smooth,
” Rhett smirks and takes the bottle back as I keel over hacking.

“Like water
,” I gasp, when my coughing eases.

“
Wanna walk?” He motions a hand in the direction he intends for us to go.

“Okay.”
We walk along the fence line in silence. I take the bottle from Rhett and take another swig.

“Easy
, Killer,” Rhett laughs, then takes the bottle back.

“What?” I cough again
from the burning the amber fluid leaves in my throat.

“
You trying to get drunk?”

“A
fter today, I think I need to.”

“What’
s been so rough about today?” he asks, his eyes scrunched.

“Well
, I’ve been called an asshole and walked in on you naked,” I remind him.

“
I called you an ass, not an asshole,” he corrects me.

“Is there a difference?
”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”
he asks dryly.

“No.”
I press my lips together trying not to laugh.

He bends down and picks up a stick near the fence and begins tapping it against the posts as we pass them.
“Hmm,” he mumbles. “I can see why you would need a drink after seeing me naked,” he jests. “You’re not embarrassed by that or anything are you?” He takes another swig of bourbon.

“Oh
, you mean standing in front of you, butt-naked? No, not at all.” I shrug nonchalantly.

“Wel
l, I’m not embarrassed and I’ve seen you practically naked at the club.” I had forgotten about the lap dance I gave him at the club. Not to mention the stare down he gave my body the first night he brought me here and made me give him his coat back. Heat flames my face as I remember the look in his eyes, filled with something raw and hungry. It disgusted me the way he looked at me that night. Remembering it now, that look in his eyes makes
me
feel raw and hungry. I see myself in that stare. I shake my head, scolding myself for such thoughts.

“So wha
t made you go into stripping?” A smidge of judgment colors his tone.

“I prefer
to call it mature dancing.”

“
How politically incorrect of me.” He plays along.

I bend over to scratch my ankles where a mosquito bit me already. Rhett halts and waits for me.
“I thought I could find vampires.”

“At a strip club?”

“Well, it’s a long story.” I shrug. The sun has fallen behind the tree line and lightening bugs begin to pepper the air with flicks of light.

“I’m all ears.” He takes another swig and hands me the bottle.
I sip it and hand it back to him. I proceed to tell him my entire life story, which the influence of the alcohol only seems to encourage. It completely destroys my wall of secrecy. It only seems fair to share my story; after all, he shared his.

“Well, I was trying to find the lower element, I guess. You know
. Like bad, creepy, people who go to strip clubs.”

“So
you think stripping is evil?”

“I guess I thought it was at one point, but now I don’t. I met a lot of nice peo
ple and it really showed me things aren’t always what they seem.” I catch a lightening bug in my hands and peak through to watch it inside my grasp before letting it go.

“How so?”

“Well, I made a great friend. She works there because she needs money to pay doctors’ bills for her daughter who is dying. She strips at night and stays home with her child during the day.”

“Why didn’t you heal the girl?”
Rhett stops at the edge of the fence line and leans against the top beam with his forearms, staring out into the field.

I follow suit.
“I met her once. Very sweet girl, but she was one foot in.”

“One foot in?”

“
That’s what Lucy called it.” My heart aches at the thought of her, but I continue. “Someone that’s already gone. They’re only here because their spirit or soul is fueling their existence.”

“Oh.”
He nods as if he understands. “Lucy sounds like she was a wise woman.”

I turn my head away from him.
Lucy was a lot of things apparently. Like a liar.

“The little girl must have been special to you.” He turns his body towards me,
now leaning his shoulder against the fence.

“She was so at peace with dying. She was actually comforting me.” I shake my head, the memory of beautiful Ella weighing on my mind. “I went back to the club the night you took me because I was going to tell her mother I could save her if she was willing to give up her own life.”

Rhett’s brow furrows
. “That’s forbidden,” he scolds.

“Is it really? Why should we n
ot get to save someone that way? If a mother would lay down her own life for her child to live, why should we not help them?”

“
That’s not allowed, and you know it. God has a plan,” he lectures me, his expression angry.

“You believe in God?”

“Of course I do.” His tone defensive. “Why wouldn’t I?”

The words
you’re damned
come to mind, but I can’t say that.

“Oh, I see.” He nods elegantly
in controlled offense. “I’m a soulless creature, and I’m going to hell, right?”

Mental note: 
Add mind reader to his list of gifts
. “I just thought…”

His mouth twists into a half smile, but the smile is weighted with insult and contempt.
“I tell you what. You worry about
your
soul, and I’ll worry about mine, okay?” His brow creases and the muscles in his jaw tighten. Looks like I hit a very sensitive nerve.

He’s pissed at me. Why should I care if he’s mad? It’s not my fault his kind have a bad reputation. I was taught that healers are on one side and
blood healers are on the other—but the line is blurring. Healer and blood healer were black and white to me when I first arrived here. I’m a healer—I’m good. Rhett’s a blood healer—he’s bad. But that logic—if you can call it that—doesn’t quite fit anymore. Knowing him now, everything is gray, and the line isn’t so clear cut. I’ve been trying to jam a square into a circle, determined it will fit, but it won’t. Rhett doesn’t fit into the evil, soulless stereotype of blood healers. Rhett isn’t soulless. “I’m sorry Rhett,” I stutter.

“It’s no matter
, Aldo. To answer your question, yes, I believe in God, and I believe in what we were taught.”

“I don’t know
if I believe any of it anymore,” I sigh.

“Believe what?” h
e asks confused.

“Believe we are God-
sent and do God’s work. We could be aliens for all anyone knows.” I shrug.

“Aldo, come on.
Now you doubt God?”

I think about it a minute before responding.
I can’t say I don’t believe in God, because I do. I just don’t like his decisions sometimes. “It just makes me mad,” I reply.

“Death is normal.
It’s part of the cycle. Death is what makes living so much more beautiful.”

“
Tell that to the person about to die.”

“We can’t save e
veryone,” he reiterates and crosses his arms.

“
I learned that the hard way at fourteen when Lucy took me to a healing and the woman was one foot in. That’s when I realized I could get information from people.” I grab the bottle and take another swig.

“Oh
, yeah?”

After I tell Rhett about Heidi and how I discovered my gift, he smiles softly.

“You can’t blame yourself. You’re a healer, but that comes with limitations. We weren’t created to decide who lives or dies. The little girl Ella couldn’t have been saved, even if her mother gave you her energy.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we’re meant to save life, not take it. It’s not only forbidden because it interferes with death, it’s forbidden because you have to kill someone to do it.”

“What if it
were a bad person’s life I took?”

“
It’s not up to us, Aldo.” His tone is stern.

“I guess I
see it differently.” I shrug.

“Look at me.”

I turn, shocked by his order.

“You coul
d not have saved her. Say it!” He stares down at me

“I could not have saved her,” I repeat, rolling my eyes and turning away from him.

“Damn it
, Aldo! Look me in the eyes and say it like you mean it!” He turns me towards him, sending chills through me as he touches me. I stare into his dark, dreamy eyes.
Dear Lord, his eyes are gorgeous.
My inner self nods in agreement.

“W
hy are you doing this?” I drop my head, avoiding his intense gaze.

“Because you
need to stop blaming yourself; not everything is your fault.” He lifts my chin with his finger. “Now say it and mean it.” He lowers his voice, one hand still holding my shoulder, forbidding me from turning.

“
I could not have saved her,” I mumble, still somewhat defiant, but hoping he’ll accept it.

“Not good enough!
” His grip tightens on my shoulders and his energy pours into me.

“Please stop,
” I beg, not wanting to break down. I try to break free from his grip, but fail.

“Say it!
” he orders through clenched teeth.

I fall to
my knees, and he drops with me. “I could not have saved her,” I manage to get out through my tears. “I couldn’t save her,” I say it again, over and over.

Rhett pulls me close
and wraps me in his embrace. His energy takes on a new feel, not warmth, but a soothing, comforting feel; like somehow his energy is transforming to give me what I need. Not physical healing, but emotional healing. I inhale him. He smells of cologne and soap, delicious and fresh.