The Rainbow Maker's Tale (21 page)

Gently brushing a hand across
the badly bandaged cuts on Cassie’s arm, I shuddered at how awful
they looked. The lump on her head was still visible from where I
sat half-behind her, and I thought about her blacking out. I would
have to disturb her soon, just to be sure there was no danger from
a concussion.

My mind moved on. Cassie had
been out of it for how long…? I still couldn’t properly calculate
the time that had passed when she was unconscious. I replayed the
moments inside my head, trying to work out how long it had been: my
words and her whispered answers echoed over one another. That was
when it hit me: I saw exactly what had been wrong with Cassie’s
answers.

Leaning into Cassie’s neck, I
whispered close to her ear. “Are you awake?”

“Mmmm,” Cassie sighed in
response.

The noise made my stomach twist
in a funny way, she sounded so content. “How do you feel?”

“Better, but not great,” she
replied, her voice still subdued.

I laughed uncomfortably.
Better, but not great
, I could appreciate that sentiment. “I
think I’m in shock. I can’t believe what happened…”

“You mean you don’t drop people
off cliffs and perform Field Medicine on a daily basis?”

I ignored the light teasing in
her question. “No. Today has been a first for me in several
areas.”

She might have said “Oh?” but I
didn’t really hear properly and anyway, I needed to talk to her
about what had happened – or what I
thought
had happened.
“When you were unconscious earlier, do you remember anything?”

“Before you realigned my
shoulder?”

I nodded.

“I remember everything,” Cassie
confirmed.

At least she didn’t think her
memory was impaired, that was a good thing. But I needed more.
“What
exactly
do you remember?”

For several seconds Cassie was
silent and I wondered whether she was going to answer me. Perhaps I
hadn’t been clear in my question. Then she spoke.

“I was standing on the ledge
and you were behind me about to say something…Then the edge of the
rock broke away and I fell; you caught me and dragged me back over,
yanking my arm out of the socket in the process.”

Well, Cassie’s recollection of
that part – at least – was clear. I cringed as the last few words
made my eyes close and my own memories bubble to the surface: I saw
the fear in her face, her broken body and blood on my hands... My
arms stiffened around Cassie’s shoulders before I could force the
images away and make myself relax. Obviously, she blamed me for
what had happened, and why shouldn’t she? I’d nearly gotten Cassie
killed, by bringing her to this isolated place just so that I could
quiz her and find out if I could trust her with
my
secrets.
I was such an idiot. A selfish idiot, I corrected.

“I think that’s when I blacked
out.”

Cassie spoke so quietly that I
almost missed her words, too preoccupied with berating myself.
Forcing my attention back to the conversation, I pressed on with my
questioning. Aside from my selfish stupidity – which was a given –
there was another issue to be answered. “When you were unconscious,
do you remember anything before you came round?”

“You were talking to me.”

Cassie adjusted herself, as
though she was trying to turn around and face me. When she winced
in pain I stopped her movements, gently pulling her back towards my
chest. She shouldn’t be moving yet – for medical reasons, obviously
– and I allowed myself a small smile as I resettled my arms around
her chest.

Our positions had shifted
slightly from a moment before and Cassie’s head leaned back easily
on the front of my shoulder now. I turned that way, able to see her
face better, instead of just the top of her head.

“What was I saying?” I asked,
once Cassie appeared comfortable.

She closed her eyes in
concentration, her mouth scrunching up thoughtfully before she
spoke. Then the words came out slowly, stopping and starting, with
lots of pauses. “You were apologising…you were saying it was your
fault…that you shouldn’t have brought me here…” Her voice changed,
abruptly insistent. “It wasn’t your fault. It was just an accident
– you don’t have to be sorry.”

It was nice of Cassie to try
and make me feel better, even though it did nothing to ease my
guilt. Her eyes fixed on mine, trying to convey the truth of her
words, when she insisted, “I’m fine” again.

“You said that, before, when
you were unconscious.”

“And I
meant
it!” Her
lips pressed into a line, emphasising her words.

“You sounded like you did,” I
agreed. “The problem is I didn’t
say
I was sorry, or that it
was my fault. I only
said
your name.”

“I don’t understand what you
mean.” Cassie’s eyes shifted left, staring past me before her face
turned that way a moment later. When her head shook slightly I knew
she was dismissing whatever thoughts had been there a second ago.
“You said my name,” she insisted. “
And
that you were sorry.
I heard you say it – clearly in my head – I
heard
you…”

Cassie sounded so convinced, so
sure of her memories – could it be mine that were flawed? Had
adrenaline helped me in one way, but clouded my brain in another…?
I needed to see Cassie’s face to be sure of what she was saying:
she always hid so much behind her words.

My right arm was still
supporting Cassie’s injured shoulder like a sling. Leaning lightly
into her back, I tipped her body forward and tilted her face
towards me with my free hand. At the movement she opened her eyes,
but she didn’t resist me.

Once we were facing each other,
I let my eyes wander across her features – ignoring the scratches
and dirt – her gaze rose to meet mine. “That’s what I mean,” I
looked deep into her eyes. “I know what you heard…you were
answering me…but I didn’t
say
those things; I
thought
them.”

I waited…first her face
registered surprise and then confusion. Cassie’s lips trembled as
though she was going to speak, but no words came out. I thought for
a moment she might be about to cry. When no tears fell, I wasn’t
sure what to do and so I just nodded at her, reaffirming my
words.

The stillness between us became
uncomfortable. Our faces and bodies were so close together, and yet
that was the furthest thing from my mind. I wanted to know what she
was thinking, but could read nothing in her expression. Would she
believe that something so impossible could have happened? I wasn’t
even sure that I believed it myself.

“I don’t know what you’re
saying.” Cassie finally choked out in a whisper. Her eyes hadn’t
left my mine, but no matter how hard I looked I couldn’t tell what
was behind her words. It sounded like fear. Had my question scared
her?

Trying to reassure Cassie that
I wasn’t crazy – and hadn’t meant to scare her – I took her face in
the palm of my hand. The warmth from her skin felt so pleasant
against my own, I could almost forget the question that had been
irritating me earlier. Almost. I just couldn’t shake the feeling
that something had happened when Cassie was unconscious. Some loose
strands of hair stuck against her cheek and I brushed them aside,
securing them behind her ear.

“I’m saying that when you spoke
to me before, you answered what I was thinking and not what I was
saying – you answered as though you could hear
exactly
what
was inside my head.” Even as I tried to make my words sound
plausible, I knew what I was suggesting sounded ridiculous…but at
the same time, the more I thought about it, the more I became
convinced of what had happened. “My next question would be: how is
that possible?”
There it was – I’d said it – now to see what
Cassie would say
.

I leaned back, folding my arms
to let her know I would wait for an answer. Finally, Cassie
replied.

“It’s not possible…it must have
been a coincidence…” She sounded uncertain, scrabbling for words.
“Subconsciously I must have heard you calling me and I put some
kind of meaning to your words and answered that instead.”

Cassie didn’t call me crazy.
She didn’t look at me as though I had lost my mind. She was
immediately logical, answering me as though this was part of a
sensible discussion at The Clinic. Nothing in her words rang true.
There was no outright dismissal or rebuttal of my idea…if anything
Cassie sounded guilty, as if I had stumbled across something she
already knew.

Was that possible?

I shook my head. “You were
talking to me,” I repeated. “I don’t know how – I’ll freely admit
that – but you
were
answering me as though I had spoken the
thoughts aloud.”

“How can you be sure you didn’t
say it? You said before you were in shock...” Cassie directed the
question back at me. She sounded…defensive.

I pondered this. To be
answering words someone thought rather than said was an odd thing
to happen, admittedly – but why would Cassie be
so
adamant
nothing had happened? It could have been a freak occurrence,
connected to adrenaline surges in the heat of the moment…or a
connection between two people, like the odd de ja vu feelings I
sometimes got.

When I looked across at Cassie,
I saw that she was resolutely avoiding my eyes. From everything I
had learned about her in the time we’d spent together, her reaction
to this was just so
different
. She was behaving in the same
way I would if I got caught doing something I shouldn’t be. She was
lying.

I shook my head once again. “I
know
what I said and what I thought – and until I asked you
now, you were sure I’d been speaking to you – you didn’t seem to
hear what I’d actually said, just what I thought. You didn’t even
hear me saying your name over and over again, did you?”

“So what are you saying? You
think I’m crazy?” The tension in Cassie’s voice ratcheted with each
word, and the resentment that burned on her cheeks only emphasised
her objections.

“No! I don’t think that at
all!” I wasn’t accusing
her
of being crazy. But something
crazy had happened in the minutes after she fell. I just wanted to
know what.

“What do you think then?”
Cassie demanded, her voice losing some of the harshness as she
looked back at me for the first time.

Why wasn’t she intrigued by
this strange occurrence like I was? Cassie was normally curious,
even though I knew she often hid that side of her personality from
her school friends, but she was dismissing this out of
hand…becoming angry when very little had been said.
If it was
such a silly notion, then why was she focusing this back onto
herself, instead of accusing me?

The only answer I could imagine
was that she knew something about what had happened earlier. And if
she did, I had to know what that was…perhaps it was the reason
Scarlett had insisted Cassie would be able to help me.

“I think – and I don’t know how
it’s possible – but I think that you
did
hear what I thought
and you answered me.”

“
You
sound crazy,” she
muttered, her words not carrying enough force to make it sound like
she actually believed the accusation.

I waited, but Cassie offered
nothing further. We sat staring at each other for an indeterminate
length of time, no words passing between us. I could tell she was
thinking hard, she probably didn’t realise, but she was nibbling
the corner of her bottom lip – a complete giveaway. I decided she
needed a prompt. “Have you ever noticed anything like that
before?”

A pause, then “No.” Cassie
shook her head at the same time as looking away from me.

“You’re lying to me,” I said.
And you’re really bad at it.

Incapable of looking at her, I
focused on the ground beside me, suddenly fascinated by a rough
cluster of grass. It was surprisingly painful to acknowledge that
Cassie didn’t want me to know something about her – didn’t trust me
– when I found myself revealing so much to her.

Again there was a long silence.
When Cassie finally spoke there was no denial of my accusation, she
just said, “I need to get home.” The conversation was over, whether
I wanted it to be or not.

Resisting the urge to punch my
fist into the ground, I buried my frustration. Perhaps this wasn’t
the right time to get her to talk…she nearly died less than an hour
ago. That incident might be affecting Cassie more than whether she
trusted me or not, and it was an explanation I really liked the
sound of. I would let it go…for now.

“So…are you going to be OK?” I
leaned around Cassie to peer into her apartment. The open-plan
living space was empty and everything was quiet, so I assumed her
parents weren’t home yet, even though we’d dawdled on our way back
from the park and detoured via a café for dinner.

Cassie looked pale – well,
paler than usual, at least. I guessed she was tired after
everything that had happened: a near-death experience, an almost
declaration of love and a scientific mystery were a lot to handle
in one afternoon.

“I’ll be fine.” Cassie
said.

Her voice stirred me from my
thoughts and I realised she was answering my question. I found I
was disappointed not be staying with her longer. Even more so when
she added: “I’m just going to grab a shower and get an early
night.”

I cleared my throat. “Do you
have anything here for pain relief?” The enquiry was a lame attempt
at distracting myself from the hormone-driven images that had
overloaded my brain at the mere mention of
Cassie
and
shower
in the same sentence.
Maybe there was some sense
in reducing testosterone levels, after all. It seemed to make me
stupid.