night.” And he hadn’t wanted to spend any
time with Mickey’s weirdo scam artist neighbor. “Are you originally from
Maine?”
“No.”
And…? Jake waited. Silence filled
the car.
“I grew up in North Carolina
mostly,” she finally added. “Spent a few years in Maryland.”
“Is your family still in North
Carolina?”
“No; in New Jersey. We moved there
when I was in high school.” A shadow flickered through her eyes. “They still
live there.”
Good. This was practically a real
conversation. “How did you decide to come to Maine? We’re notoriously
traditional here. I believe some even call us narrow-minded. I’d think it’d be
a tough location for a pet psychic.”
“Please don’t call me that. I’m not
psychic.”
He took a quick glance at her. Her
mouth was tight, her shoulders slightly hunched. “Everyone calls you that,” he
objected.
“They’re wrong.”
“Then how do you advertise
yourself?”
“I don’t advertise.”
Jesus. Jake rolled his eyes. “When
you speak to people about your gift ,
what do you say?”
“I tell them I’m more attuned to
animals than most. It sounds less…scary.” She suddenly twisted in her seat to
face him. “Look, being sensitive to animals’ thoughts isn’t a gift. People
think you’re a little weird. Not to be respected; weird.” She silently
challenged him to deny it, but he couldn’t. Didn’t even want to. That’s exactly
what he thought. “And if you’re a psychic, you’re a straight-out freak.”
“Oh, come on. There are plenty of
people who claim to be psychic—”
“Claim to be, but who aren’t, so
very few people are bothered by them. But true mind-reading would really
disturb people. It would scare them.” She fixed her serious eyes on him. “How
would you feel if I could read your mind?”
A chill settled at the base of his
neck, and he gave his shoulders a twitch. Reactionary, petty, and even
downright mean thoughts skittered through his brain daily. No one else needed
to know that he could be so small-minded. Still: “Today, I’d be delighted.”
“Because of your memory problem.
But what about after you find your memories again?” Her voice dropped into a
smoky, hypnotic tone. “Would you want someone looking inside you? Someone who
could tell what you were thinking…just by touching you?” And she reached out
toward him.
He flinched—he couldn’t help it.
The car veered over the double yellow line before he snapped it back into its
lane. Good thing she hadn’t pulled that trick when a car had been approaching.
She folded her arms across her
chest. “I rest my case.” But she didn’t sound victorious.
“All right—a point to you. But what
does it matter? You don’t claim to be psychic with people.”
She shrugged. “Solidarity among
sisters in weirdness, I guess. Just…well, just don’t call me psychic, okay?
Even with animals.”
“Deal.” An easy concession to make,
since he’d never thought she was one anyway.
“What about you?” she asked, neatly
deflecting the conversation from herself. “How long has your family been here?”
“My dad and Mickey grew up here. My
mom’s from Boston. I have a few generations of Mainers in my background.”
Something loosened inside him, and he found himself saying, “When I was growing
up, I always wanted to leave Maine, and after college I did for a while. But
the family business pulled me back. For years I resented it, but now I don’t
want to leave. This is my home.”
He sounded like a Hallmark card. A
corny one. “And you?” he asked quickly. “Where do you consider home?”
She cocked her head, as if thinking
about it for the first time. “I like it here,” she finally answered. “I’m not
sure it’s home yet, but it’s the closest I’ve come so far. I’d like to stick
around awhile, see if it works out.”
“I hope it does.”
She smiled. “Me too.”
He cleared his throat. “Yesterday,
when you asked if I was on
time with Mickey’s weirdo scam artist neighbor. “Are you originally from
Maine?”
“No.”
And…? Jake waited. Silence filled
the car.
“I grew up in North Carolina
mostly,” she finally added. “Spent a few years in Maryland.”
“Is your family still in North
Carolina?”
“No; in New Jersey. We moved there
when I was in high school.” A shadow flickered through her eyes. “They still
live there.”
Good. This was practically a real
conversation. “How did you decide to come to Maine? We’re notoriously
traditional here. I believe some even call us narrow-minded. I’d think it’d be
a tough location for a pet psychic.”
“Please don’t call me that. I’m not
psychic.”
He took a quick glance at her. Her
mouth was tight, her shoulders slightly hunched. “Everyone calls you that,” he
objected.
“They’re wrong.”
“Then how do you advertise
yourself?”
“I don’t advertise.”
Jesus. Jake rolled his eyes. “When
you speak to people about your gift ,
what do you say?”
“I tell them I’m more attuned to
animals than most. It sounds less…scary.” She suddenly twisted in her seat to
face him. “Look, being sensitive to animals’ thoughts isn’t a gift. People
think you’re a little weird. Not to be respected; weird.” She silently
challenged him to deny it, but he couldn’t. Didn’t even want to. That’s exactly
what he thought. “And if you’re a psychic, you’re a straight-out freak.”
“Oh, come on. There are plenty of
people who claim to be psychic—”
“Claim to be, but who aren’t, so
very few people are bothered by them. But true mind-reading would really
disturb people. It would scare them.” She fixed her serious eyes on him. “How
would you feel if I could read your mind?”
A chill settled at the base of his
neck, and he gave his shoulders a twitch. Reactionary, petty, and even
downright mean thoughts skittered through his brain daily. No one else needed
to know that he could be so small-minded. Still: “Today, I’d be delighted.”
“Because of your memory problem.
But what about after you find your memories again?” Her voice dropped into a
smoky, hypnotic tone. “Would you want someone looking inside you? Someone who
could tell what you were thinking…just by touching you?” And she reached out
toward him.
He flinched—he couldn’t help it.
The car veered over the double yellow line before he snapped it back into its
lane. Good thing she hadn’t pulled that trick when a car had been approaching.
She folded her arms across her
chest. “I rest my case.” But she didn’t sound victorious.
“All right—a point to you. But what
does it matter? You don’t claim to be psychic with people.”
She shrugged. “Solidarity among
sisters in weirdness, I guess. Just…well, just don’t call me psychic, okay?
Even with animals.”
“Deal.” An easy concession to make,
since he’d never thought she was one anyway.
“What about you?” she asked, neatly
deflecting the conversation from herself. “How long has your family been here?”
“My dad and Mickey grew up here. My
mom’s from Boston. I have a few generations of Mainers in my background.”
Something loosened inside him, and he found himself saying, “When I was growing
up, I always wanted to leave Maine, and after college I did for a while. But
the family business pulled me back. For years I resented it, but now I don’t
want to leave. This is my home.”
He sounded like a Hallmark card. A
corny one. “And you?” he asked quickly. “Where do you consider home?”
She cocked her head, as if thinking
about it for the first time. “I like it here,” she finally answered. “I’m not
sure it’s home yet, but it’s the closest I’ve come so far. I’d like to stick
around awhile, see if it works out.”
“I hope it does.”
She smiled. “Me too.”
He cleared his throat. “Yesterday,
when you asked if I was on
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