Chapter 12

Half an hour later, John knocked on her door. She did not respond to his knock. She was still disturbed by Ryder’s apparent ridicule of someone that could sense someone coming through the mist. She didn't feel like listening to John’s rationalizations on the issue. Ryder had strong feelings about a lot of things but this was not something she had ever discussed with him. It never occurred to her that Ryder would react in such a way and it bothered her far more than she was willing to admit.

Even though she had grown up with the ability to see when someone came through the mist, she was taught never discuss it with anyone outside her family. No reason was ever given as to why it was a secret but her own discomfort with her ability also kept her from talking about it. As she got older, she realized that during the times when she knew someone was coming they had always kept her away from outside contact until the attention to the new arrivals waned.

After Ryder’s reaction tonight she had a better understanding of why her parents had kept it such a close secret. She had never experienced anyone making fun of her or reacting with horror. She wasn’t fond of this ability but it was a part of her and she had found no way to rid herself of it. Instead, she had been forced to learn to live with it. After her parents died it had been even more difficult because there was no one with whom to discuss what she experienced, no one to comfort her and make her feel that she was not some freak.


She listened as the storm moved off to the north, leaving behind a steady, gently falling rain that sang to her spirit. She had cracked a window because the house had become warm. A cool breeze stirred the curtains at the window and drifted across the bed, cooling the sheets. She moved her legs, shifting to a more comfortable position and the tense muscles in her back and shoulders began to relax. Tomorrow she would talk to John. There were things she needed to know, things that had been kept from her. The very first thing would be the name of this woman with whom she shared a gift. . . or a curse. Samantha rolled to her side and faced the open window. A star winked at her and she smiled as her eyes closed in sleep. Her last coherent thought was that John was going to be beside himself.

Sunlight and Lily on her knees, bouncing up and down on the bed roused Samantha from a dream that faded before she could recall it. She squinted at the bundle of energy whose blond curls fought with the sunlight over who would blind her first. To Samantha’s mind, Lily won when her tiny face broke into a smile. “Aunt Sam! Aunt Sam! Get up! I want to play. Mama said breakfast will be ready in five minutes.” She tugged at the sheet covering Samantha. “I want to go and visit the kennel. My pup misses me.”

“What pup?” Samantha fought for control of the sheet. “Give me time to get dressed, will you, Lily.”

“The sun has been awake for thirty minutes, Aunt Sam.” She hopped off the bed and darted over to the dresser where she promptly began picking up Samantha’s hair brush, comb and other items. “My daddy said you were always a sleepy-head and ill-tempered in the mornings.”

Samantha grabbed the brush and started on her own long blond tresses, filing away another thing to address to John. Lily began to sing and dance around the room, running tiny hands over everything she passed. Finally, Sam turned and pointed at her but before she could say a word, Lily darted out the door giggling, the sound of her heels tapping down the stairs. Sam could only smile and shake her head. Life in John’s house was always an adventure.

Breakfast steamed on the table as she entered the kitchen. The morning sun seemed to pour into the windows, giving the room a warm glow as it went bouncing around to every shiny surface. All the children were seated and quietly talking. Lillian insisted on order at table and if there was an uncalled for disruption, the penalty was dismissal until after everyone had finished. They never withheld food but it could be delayed by unruly behavior.

John came through the back door, washed his hands and sat down. Everyone joined hands and bowed their head and he said the morning blessing. Colin had his head up first and was digging into his pancakes before anyone had their fork.

“I have to run into town today,” John said, glancing at Lil’. “I need to see if I can find out what is going on. These robberies have me worried.”

Lil’ held the coffee pot suspended to pour him a cup of coffee. “You don’t think we’re in danger, do you?”

He frowned and shook his head. “No, not at all. Too many dogs on the place for a stranger to come messing around here. No, I think we’re fine but it doesn’t mean I don’t worry about my neighbors. Poor Mrs. Parker wouldn’t have hurt a fly and would gladly have given anyone anything they needed. This was a senseless killing.”

Samantha looked up from cutting her sausage. “Is any killing sensible?” She didn’t wait for an answer, simply popped a piece of the sausage in her mouth.

No one said anything for several minutes. The sounds of glasses, cups, plates and utensils sparkled around the table and Samantha briefly felt as if she were cast back in time. The sensation left her feeling bereft.

“John, before you leave I would like to speak to you,” she said.

He glance up from his plate as he popped scrambled eggs into his mouth. He chewed and asked, “About what? I really need to leave as soon as possible.”

She tried to decide how to respond and make herself clear without revealing anything to the children. “The day Lily broke her arm, you were going to give me the name of a woman you knew who could do something I can do.”

John’s fork slipped from his fingers and clattered onto his plate and he stared at her. Lily giggled but the older children must have sensed the tension in the room because they fell silent and stopped eating. “Why do you want that now?”

“Because I want to talk to her.”

He laid his arms on the table on either side of his plate and leaned forward. “Why would you want to do that now?”

Lillian got up and started gathering empty dishes. “I think you two should talk in the study. I have to get the children ready for school.”

A collective groan went around the table but they all wiped their mouths, got up, pushed their chairs under the table and left the room. Just like a small army, Samantha thought with a smile.

John nodded and left the room.

“I’ll help with the dishes, Lil’.”

“No, you talk with your brother. They should have told you years ago.”

She left the dishes to Lil’ and headed for the study, where John stood holding the door for her.

They sat in the chairs they had sat in the morning of Lily’s accident. As before, Lil’ suddenly breezed in with coffee and mugs and then left with a flutter of her fingertips. Just before she shut the door behind her she said lightly, “I better not have to come back in here.” Her tinkling laughter echo along the hallway.

Across the room, the tick-tock of a mantel clock became louder and louder and somewhere nearby, probably the open window, she could hear bees buzzing. John remained silent. It would seem, she thought, he was not so willing to tell her anything today.

“You said there was a woman with the same ability that I have. You were going to tell me her name the day Lily was hurt but we both got distracted.”

“I don’t remember,” he said.

This time she remained silent.

“Look,” he said, “it might not be the best time to do this. There are too many things happening that are more than strange. Robberies, murder, you seeing things. I just think you should stay in the background with this at the moment. Let’s try and determine what is going on before you run out and confess to the world that you’re a seer.”

The word shocked her. No one had ever applied that term to her. Her father had initially called her feysic but even that stopped when he realized what she was capable of. For her, she just saw things. She felt things. She dreamt things. She had a special ability but it didn’t make her special or favored. She was Samantha Channing. Seers were fortune tellers, psychics, priest in pagan cultures, not eight year old girls predicting ships in the mist.

John’s statement was a revelation of sorts. With it, she became someone else, someone she didn’t know. A seer.

“No,” she replied. “What is her name and how can I find her?”

He studied her face for a full minute. Then, he told her.