Since Jake’s head wasn’t up to exercising, he took a quick shower instead and slipped into a pair of jeans. The early morning rays were already heating up the patio. The chaise lounge was cushioned, comfortable. Jake stretched out and smelled the new morning dew.
He thought back to last night. He and Sam had talked for an hour. After Sam had gone to bed, Jake spent some time thumbing through the photo albums in the study. The smiling child with the sun-bleached hair had tugged at his heart. There were pictures of Sam with her adoring father, a handsome man with curly blond hair. The woman in the photo he assumed was Melinda Casey. She was barely five feet tall with milk glass skin and brown hair. Many of the pictures from Europe and Asia were only of Samuel and Melinda Casey.
He guessed Abby to be about nineteen or twenty in most of Sam’s infant pictures. Sam’s olive complexion seemed a sharp contrast to Melinda’s milk glass skin. Sam’s cheekbones were well defined even at such a tender age. There was a secrecy that seemed to pass between Sam and Abby that only the camera caught. If he were a betting man, he’d say that Melinda Casey was NOT Sam’s mother.
What Jake found strange was that there were no pictures of Sam after 1977. That, Jake remembered, was when Samuel and Melinda Casey had died in the car accident.
“I thought I smelled coffee.” Abby poured herself a cup. She checked his bandage. “How is it feeling this morning?”
“Better, much better, thanks.” Just like in the pictures Jake found himself drawn to Abby’s features. She hadn’t changed much from the pictures in the album other than adding a few pounds and smile creases around her eyes. Time had not been unkind to Abby. Jake smiled at her.
“What?” Abby gathered her skirt around her legs before taking a seat.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were Sam’s mother?”
“I guess I assumed Sam had told you.”
Jake shook his head then told her how he looked through some photo albums last night. “But, Melinda was his wife, right?”
“Yes. It really isn’t too complicated. Samuel and Melinda picked me up just outside Chamberlain, South Dakota. I was hitchhiking. Going
… anywhere.” She took a sip of her coffee. “They helped me through some rough times. They brought me back here to live. I insisted on working for my keep. I cooked, did laundry, helped Melinda mail out invitations to a variety of social events.”
The picture Jake was formulating in his mind of Abby and Sam’s father having a torrid love affair just didn’t fit the woman sitting in front of him whose integrity seemed above reproach. Luckily, he didn’t have to ask the question.
“When Melinda discovered she couldn’t have children,” Abby continued, “I agreed to be a surrogate mother. It was the least I could do to thank them.”
“It must have been difficult for you, having Sam call another woman Mommy.”
“There was a bond between Sam and me that no one could come between. When she was old enough to understand, I didn’t have to tell her. She just knew.”
Jake thought back to Hap’s body, how Sam had touched it, touched the pin. How the words lightning strike seemed to have popped into her head. Jake always dealt in logic. And what Sam supposedly did was not logical to him. She seemed to know things that defied logic.
The sprinklers bordering the patio turned on, spraying a fine mist over the geraniums, irises, and lilies. Abby gazed lovingly at nature’s pastel colors, as if seeing them for the first time.
“Tell me something, Abby.” He told her about Hap Wilson and some of the revelations Sam had come up with. “How does she do this little mind-reading act of hers?”
“Sam has a unique gift. Ever since she was small she seemed to be able to sense things about certain people or places. It was confusing for her to interpret at first. We spent several years on the reservation after Mr. and Mrs. Casey passed away. My grandmother was a powerful medicine woman and taught Sam how to interpret these feelings.”
“What kind of feelings?”
“She can sense the aura left in a room or surrounding a body that can tell her things about a killer or the victim.” Abby flashed a smile filled with pride and affection. “My grandmother used to say that the victim either had to be cold to the touch or cold-hearted in order for Sam’s powers to work.”
Jake eyed her strangely. “And you believe this?”
Abby’s dark eyes danced. There was a secret world behind those eyes of hers, a secret world that only Sam and Alex seemed to have a key to.
“There are many unexplained things in life, Jacob. We can’t see electrical currents, but we know they work. We can’t see radio waves or even gravity, but we have no doubt they are there.”
“That’s true,” Jake agreed, “but, unfortunately, our judicial system requires solid evidence and logical conclusions. And these little visions Sam has just don’t fall anywhere in line with those requirements.”
A comfortable silence surrounded them. A large bee droned over to a cluster of day lilies near the patio. A gathering of finches splashed in the birdbath near the Florida room. Jake could feel Abby’s eyes on him, studying him, probing. Probing what?
“One thing you have to understand about Sam, she hasn’t had it easy. I don’t want to make excuses for her.”
Jake shifted his gaze to Abby, her smiling eyes, the genuine love in her voice whenever she mentioned Sam’s name.
“She withdrew after Mr. and Mrs. Casey died. She didn’t talk much and children can be cruel. Then when the visions started, kids thought she was a freak. Adults understood she had a powerful gift. Until…”
Jake arched one eyebrow.
“There was a murder on the reservation,” Abby explained. “A young boy. The authorities thought he had played with matches and accidentally set himself on fire. But Sam walked through the rubble of the boy’s house. She saw what had happened to him, somehow knew who did it.”
“I would think everyone would be thankful that the truth came out.”
“Yes, but tell that to the young men who were afraid to even talk to Sam for fear she could read their every thought. Tell that to the adults who suddenly realized she might be able to discover secrets about them.”
Jake pondered Abby’s comments as he studied the remnants of coffee in the bottom of his cup. His face must have displayed his unswayed skepticism because Abby asked, “You still doubt Sam’s ability?”
“Well, you have to admit,” Jake added, “it isn’t something I run into every day. And I can almost see people taking two steps back whenever she walks into a room.”
“Grandmother told Sam that people are more receptive to healing powers. But other powers should not be advertised. Unfortunately, Sam chose a line of work where she can use her powers. I guess I should be glad she is callused enough to survive the opposition she encounters.” After a few moments she added, “Sam also tends to take lightly the danger she puts herself in. Promise me you’ll keep an eye on her.”
For the first time since he met her, Abby’s eyes showed genuine fear. He touched her hand and said, “Of course.” Jake leaned over to place his cup on the patio table. His shirtless torso was tan and muscular. He felt Abby’s hand on his back, a back he rarely exposed. When he heard her gasp, he stood up, felt his face flush. He thought he saw tears edge their way to the corners of her eyes. He departed abruptly explaining, “I should get dressed.”
Abby watched Jake leave. She leaned back against the table shaking her head in shock. Raised welts, old scars, had criss-crossed Jake’s back starting at the shoulder blades and disappearing below the belt line.
When she placed her hand on one of his scars she saw a vision of a boy, no more than six, shielding a woman, his mother perhaps, who was cowering in a corner. A leather strap cut across the boy’s back, literally ripping his shirt off.
The visions had come quick, split frames like watching a slide projector. The one that came into clear focus was the boy tied to a bed on his stomach, naked, his back and rear cut and bleeding profusely and then the strap slapping across the back once more, sending blood spraying onto the walls and sheet.
She knew more than ever that she made the right decision to use the sweat lodge. Jake had built an emotional wall around himself and now Abby knew that only the spirits would be able to penetrate that wall. Only they would be able to help him open his heart.