Chapter 4: A Beautiful Thing

(Note: This chapter is the second half of the previous 1,300 word+ draft of Chapter 3)

Her expression didn't change, but she leaned towards me ever so slightly, and I knew that I'd gotten her attention.

"And that would make us kin. Cousins a few steps removed, maybe, but still common blood."

I paused. "Which means we are, too."

The guarded look on the girl's face eased, and I could feel the tension drop a bit.

"My boy's been worried about you," I said, and her brow crinkled.

"Don't worry," I said. "Bill's good at reading people. He'll never have a grownup mind but he's got a big heart, especially towards relatives, and he can tell that you've just been through a lot … haven't you, Laura?"

Her eyes widened when she heard her own name.

"I know we haven't been properly introduced, darlin', but my Billy is very good at reading people."

I paused again.

"Now maybe it's just an old country doctor's intuition, but something tells me that you haven't always been silent."

She said nothing, but her eyes told me what I needed to know.

"Like you and your daddy I have a gift, though it's not one that tends to make the news. Oddly enough for a simple physician, it's the gift of healing – mental and spiritual, as well as physical."

I grinned. "How about that?"

Ever so briefly, a silent smile flickered across Laura's face.

"I can help you with that, if you like."

Carefully, I placed my hands palm down upon the desk, and then, ever so slowly and carefully, slid them across the wooden desktop towards her. Then I closed my eyes and waited.

For a few awkward moments I thought that she was going to refuse my offer and stay behind her wall, but then I felt first one small cool hand and then the other one place themselves on top of mine.

Cautiously and delicately, I closed the gap between our minds and then opened a hair-thin breach, bracing for what I knew was on the other side. Let me tell you, it's far easier to raise the dead than it is to feel the weight of terrors and hopelessness and guilt that no child should ever have to carry…

Gently, I held back the fury trapped within, knowing that even if there was enough time to absorb it all, there was no way I could do it without burning out or at least crippling myself for a long time. But I could help with the worst of it, and I did – healing and soothing where her mind and psyche needed it the most, placing memory blocks strategically here and there, leaving behind residual feelings of hope and safety, and love.

Then I gently closed the bridge between us, and there was silence in the room for at least a minute.

I opened my eyes to see Laura staring back at me with a mix of surprise and relief on her young face.

"Don't try to talk right away," I said. "You'll know when the time's right."

She smiled – a real smile this time – the first I'd ever seen from her, and it was a beautiful thing.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, the boys returned from breakfast. Billy stopped and looked at her, and then chuckled; Buddy gave her a quick strange look, and then opened the newspaper he'd brought back with him.

And, in less than a minute flat Laura demolished that breakfast they'd brought back.

I wasn't surprised to hear Logan stir maybe an hour later. I'd hoped that he'd stay down for a while longer, but it was better than nothing. Then he left, taking Laura and a part of me with them.

Twenty minutes later, Buddy remembered something.

"What about the truck?" he asked. "They'll need the keys!"

"They're already driving it," I grinned. "That girl's a pretty resourceful little thing."

"What!?" He grabbed for his keys and felt nothing but an empty pocket.

"Don't worry, Buddy," I said. "Let's get you over to my place to pick you up some temporary wheels till we can get their truck fixed and then we can go up and swap it back for yours."

I paused. "Deal?"

Buddy nodded, though I don't think he was too happy…