Kathleen Creighton - Danger Signals

"You have a brother?" she asked, looking at him with new interest. As a child she'd yearned for brothers and sisters. "How lucky you are."

"Yeah." But his voice held a soft irony, and she felt wisps of emotion leaking through his barriers. An aura of sadness.

She wouldn't normally have pressed, but for some reason she couldn't bear to leave him with the melancholy she'd unwittingly stirred in him. "You seem sad," she said gently. "Were the two of you…not close?"

"Oh, we're close," he said dryly. "At least we were growing up. Stayed that way until pretty recently, too, even though as adults we both went in different directions. We're completely different, when you get right down to it. Guess it's a miracle we got along as well as we did."

"He was younger than you."

He nodded, seemingly not surprised she hadn't made it a question. "Matt always was kind of a free spirit. I guess you could say-not one for the discipline of a nine-to-five job, anyway. He barely made it through college, and afterward went off to California to explore the great outdoors. Wound up staying there. He was doing okay, working as a wilderness guide-rock climbing, white-water river rafting, that sort of thing."

"What happened?"

He let out a breath and she winced involuntarily as the sadness became sharp, almost too painful to bear. He looked at her and muttered. "Oh-sorry," and instantly she felt the pain being dampened down, covered with wrappings, brought once again under control.

"He had an accident," he said in his flat, policeman's voice. "Rock climbing. Broke his back. He's paralyzed from the waist down."

"Oh, how awful," Tierney murmured, knowing how inadequate it was, pressing her fingers against the spot at the base of her throat that ached with the pressure of his sadness.

"Yeah." After a long pause he went on. "So anyway, he kind of…dropped out. Last I heard he was down in L.A.- works at a sports center, something like that. He does wheelchair sports, I know that, but he doesn't keep in very close touch nowadays."

"What about your parents? Do you keep in touch with them? Does he?"

"About Matt, I couldn't tell you. I try to keep in touch. We talk on the phone every couple of weeks. They live in Florida. My mom says she'd rather have hurricanes than earthquakes and volcanoes-says at least with hurricanes you get some warning." He made an exasperated sound, but one with affection in it.

Silence fell. They were coming into Tierney's neighborhood. In a few more minutes she'd be home. Home alone with only her painting and the sad remnants of Jeannette. the only family she had left, to keep the terrible emotion-memories at bay. Frustration and anger swept over her- her own emotions for a change. Memories of the peace she'd known when Wade had held her only made her anguish worse.

Why can't I have that always? Someone of my own, someone for me, someone to care for me and nurture me and protect me from the bad stuff?

They stopped at a traffic light. She looked at Wade's stalwart profile, resenting him a little bit then, for being stalwart, yes, but also for being oblivious to her emotions. Knowing she was being unfair. Irrational. But still…

"Wade," she said, "do you think about them-your birth parents? Do you remember them at all?"

He looked over at her, then back up at the light. Seconds passed, and she thought he wouldn't answer her. And then he did-with a lie.

"Nope. Not a thing."

But they tumbled into her mind like broken toys from an overstuffed closet, bits and pieces of emotions and memories, impressions that could only have come from the man sitting placidly beside her, waiting for the light to change. Shards of violence, strangling cobwebs of terror.

He hadn't blocked them. Were they too powerful to contain, or had he simply forgotten? Did that mean he was beginning, even unconsciously, to trust her a little? For a few moments the pleasure that thought stirred in her eclipsed the fact that he'd lied.

The light changed and the car moved forward. Tierney let that sweet, soft breeze of unexpected happiness warm her until the next signal stopped them once more. Then she said, without looking at him. "Don't you think that's odd?"

Wade glanced at her. "What, you mean that I don't remember my birth parents?"

"You said you were six or seven when you lost them. Most people have memories, bits and pieces, at least, from much earlier than that."

He hitched one shoulder. "Well, I don't. If that's odd, I guess I am."

But again the shrapnel of violence and fear screamed into her head, making her wince in spite of her effort not to.

He threw her another look, this one sharp and accompanied by a snort and a sardonic little smile. "I'm guessing you're picking up something. So? Come on, give. I can't wait to hear this."

She shook her head, looked up at the light and said flatly. "It's green."

A polite beep from someone's horn seconded the reminder, and the car jerked forward. They drove for two blocks in total silence before Tierney spoke again, in the same toneless voice. "You missed it."

"What?"

"That was my place back there. Where I live. You missed it."

Swearing, Wade flipped on the blinker and made a screeching right at the next corner. Once again silence reigned inside the car while he maneuvered around the block and into a parking space two doors from Jeannette's Gallery. He turned off the motor but continued to sit facing front, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. Tierney made no move to get out of the car. and neither did he.

Then he thought. What the hell am I doing?

Acting like a damn jerk, was what he was doing. And it wasn't him, the sarcasm, the mockery. He didn't like the idea of someone reading him-who would? But it wasn't as if she did it on purpose. And if she had picked up something from his thoughts-emotions, or whatever-so what? Far as he knew, he hadn't been thinking or feeling anything out of line. What was he afraid of?

He let out a breath, a wordless surrender. "Look, that was uncalled for. I'm sorry."

"I know."

He threw her a look in time to catch the remains of a smile, then gave a snort of laughter and ran a hand over his hair. "This is going to take some getting used to. And what happened to my being able to block you?"

She looked back at him with somber eyes. "I don't know. Maybe you let your guard down. Or maybe-"

"What?" he prompted when her gaze slipped away. He caught her arm and she brought her eyes reluctantly back to his. "Come on, what the hell did you see?"

"Feel"

"Whatever."

"It was bits and pieces-like a jigsaw puzzle all mixed up, so a lot of it didn't make sense. But I felt fear. A small child's fear- terror, actually. It was powerful."

She paused, and he gave her a shake. Not even aware that he did. "Go on."

"I felt…violence. Trauma. Really awful…" Her voice broke and her eyes darkened, as if the violence she spoke of was reflected in them. Relentless, he was about to prompt her again when she caught a breath and went on. "But there's something else, too. Something else I- you - felt. Or remembered. Something changed. You felt comforted. The fear was still there, but it was less now, because someone, or something, came between you and the violence. You felt…sheltered. Protected." She gazed at him, now with uncertainty in her eyes. "Maybe…could that have been your parents? Does this mean anything to you?"

He shook his head. Became aware of the way he was gripping her arm and released her. Faced front again and groped blindly for the ignition key. He was all but vibrating with the strain of keeping himself and his thoughts and feelings blocked.

"Not a thing," he said as the engine roared to life.