“Thanks. I put some effort into it this morning.”
I hope Sara grows out of her tantrums. It’s how her mother started, and I wasn’t strict with her like I should have been. It’s really my fault Karen couldn’t get along in her marriage, and now Sara suffers for it.
I heard this quite clearly and looked up at Mrs. Myrtle questioningly, but it was obvious she hadn’t actually spoken. She was looking down at the uneven concrete driveway, trying to concentrate on maneuvering safely. It left me with a moment to ponder whether or not I was now capable of reading minds. Hearing my own thoughts made me want to laugh.
Read someone’s mind. Yeah, right. This wasn’t some kind of fiction fun house or anything. It was real life. My life. And still, some little part of my brain insisted that I determine if this was actually happening to me. At the club the other night, I’d been overloaded with the number of people surrounding me, their drunken blatherings pouring too much stimulation into me at once, but just one-to-one was a good experiment.
I did a quick mental check. Was my fortified, cemented brick wall still up in my mind? I closed my eyes briefly and saw it. Yep. It was there. And still, I’d maybe been able to hear her thoughts. It wouldn’t hurt to try.
“How’s Sara today?” Sara was her granddaughter.
“She’s finishing up a project this morning. You know how it goes. She had all weekend to finish it, but now it’s the last minute, and she has the house in an uproar. Her mother is not happy with her. It is an end-of-the-year project. Their last day of school before the summer break is on Friday.”
“How is Karen doing with her work? I know you said she was feeling particularly stressed the last few months.”
“Now that tax season is over, she’s able to relax a bit.” Her daughter was a CPA, and a single parent as of a year ago.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” I fell into step beside her and offered her my arm, which she readily took. I kept her balanced as we made our way across the quiet intersection first, and then the busy one, under the pretense of walking to my car. It’s true that the first time I encountered Mrs. Myrtle on the sidewalk, I was walking out to my car after having to park it a few blocks up and across the main street. That was almost six months ago.
After that, I just pretended my car was always out there, so I could know she arrived to the elementary school safe and sound. My car is usually not out across the boulevard, and I’m pretty sure she knows it, but we continue to play our parts.
I have to admit that part of this is entirely selfish. She was just so generous with her attention that I found myself wanting to talk with her about things. Over time, she got me to open up a little about family, work and past dreams of being an artist.
On one occasion, she saw me walking with a cream-colored canvas bag on which, when I’d had free time and the inspiration of a beautiful spring day, I’d drawn a floral pattern and painted it right on the material. She really seemed to love it, so I made her one. She used it pretty regularly, which I have to say made me proud. She was always so encouraging and just...motherly or grandmotherly, the way I always imagined someone in that role was supposed to be.
With concentration, I was able to get some impressions of what she was feeling, rather than actual words being articulated, which explained why I had “felt” Ryder’s grief so clearly the day before. I could feel she was glad to see me and that she had a sense of comfort, affection and familiarity with me. I could feel her disappointment and worry over whatever was happening at home, and I could feel a low level of excitement surrounding the elementary school. We reached the gates of the school, and I stopped walking, ready to part ways. Mrs. Myrtle, however, had something on her mind and turned to me with purpose. She looked me straight in the eyes.
“Taylor, dear, have you given any more thought to that project I talked with you about last week? Remember the art project? I was hoping to have it done as a birthday surprise for Sara.”
I hadn’t thought she was serious about that.
The seed of excitement, watered with droplets of uncertainty, infused my gut. “I’m not a professional, Mrs. Myrtle. You know you could get someone from one of the local colleges to paint a mural on Sara’s wall for a song. I am absolutely inexperienced...I mean...I’ve never done work on such a large scale.”
“There’s a first time for everything, Taylor. You have to start somewhere. And what’s the worst that can happen?”
“I could make a mess of it all.”
“Then you can paint it white and start over.”
“I know, but...”
“Taylor Lane.” Mrs. Myrtle’s tone became just a bit more firm and motherly. “You need to have confidence in yourself. You do some lovely artwork. Now tell me true if you aren’t really interested, and I’ll find someone else, but if you’re really interested, I want you to talk with Sara about what she’d like on her wall and maybe come up with a few sample drawings for her to choose from.”
“Well...I am interested...but—”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll pay for the materials and for your time.” Her tone of voice held firm.
“You don’t have to pay me, Mrs. Myrtle.”
“Nonsense, dear. One of the most important lessons in life is to know your worth, and don’t let anyone talk you out of it. Now, I know you need to get on to work and your car is back down the block, so you better hurry. I don’t want you to be late.” She winked and gave me that warm smile that was so addictive.
Such a lovely girl. I hope she learns to trust in herself. That I heard clearly in my mind, and it made me glow at the same time I got goose bumps. First, I really was hearing her thoughts, and second, if this was the encouragement that most people got to experience growing up, then I had truly missed out.
“Thanks, Mrs. Myrtle. I’ll be glad to do this art project.”
“Excellent. You’re a kind girl, Taylor. Thank you, dear, for walking with me. We’ll talk later.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Though I had plenty to think about that was new and exciting, my thoughts circled back round to Ryder and what had happened to me the last few days. I could picture his brooding green eyes and his sexy lips whose taste I was already craving. Somehow he’d managed to imprint himself on me. Easily, I could bring his masculine image to mind, and it was almost like he was there with me, which was equal parts bitter and sweet.
Sharply, I turned my thoughts to the break-in at my car and the break-in at my apartment, which successfully turned my amorous musings sour, but posed a valid question. Who in the hell was trying to cause me grief? I didn’t have anything valuable. I lived a fairly normal life of work and more work with a little exercise and play in there. I mean, really. What was all this about?
At the same time, I find out that this hot guy has been coming to me in my dreams (still not ready to go there), that Cynthia isn’t all of who she says she is, and I’m also starting to be able to read minds, if that’s the right way to phrase it. The world I grew up in was fading away to be replaced by this bizarre, surreal place where I had no idea what was going to happen next.
I walked into the office at my usual time. Reggie wasn’t there. I suddenly remembered my gaffe with his boyfriend/partner and wondered what torment that was going to bring me. I so needed more pain in my day, right?
When Reggie did arrive some twenty minutes later, dressed in an impressive dark gray pinstripe suit, with his dark goatee looking trimmed and fashionable, I opened my mind, so I could “hear” if there was a problem with Frank. If Frank had been upset with me, maybe I’d get a heads-up on it, which might give me just enough of an advantage that I would be able to keep my job.