Part 24 (1/2)

I didn't want to waste any more time trying to please others. Those months of illness had been a blessing. The moment I'd regained consciousness, Grandma had packed our bags, sold the house in Maine and we'd ended up here. I sure as heck wasn't going to complain.

I paused, listening to the sad cry of a Gull. Still...there were times when I felt like I'd missed something important while unconscious all those weeks. Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled with Grandma's sudden change from dour to hopeful. But there were times when I'd catch her watching me with this odd combination of sadness and worry in her hazel gaze, as if she knew something I didn't.

”Guess I should head home,” Mrs. Miller said in that sugary drawl.

She stood, slapped a huge straw hat on her bleached blonde hair and sauntered toward her small red convertible. She wasn't our typical customer, but she'd stopped by once and liked the place because we seemed to know exactly what she wanted even before she said a word. Yep, to her, we were the perfect little servants.

I gave her a wave as she drove away, then swiped down the small benches and tables that seated our customers. Our restaurant, if you could call it that, boasted three tables and a small bar, all outside seating. Still, it was ours, Grandma and me, and we had plans to expand eventually...when we weren't busy sunbathing, snorkeling and collecting sh.e.l.ls.

”All done?” Grandma asked, strolling out of the small abode where she'd been cooking. She hung her white ap.r.o.n on the hook outside the door. It was hot work, but we could always take a break and dip into the ocean for a quick swim. Really, my job couldn't get any better. I was even second guessing college. Why leave this paradise?

”Yep.” I picked up the few pieces of trash that littered the white sand, stuffing them into the trash bag Grandma had grabbed.

I'd been living with her since I was five and my mind-reading ability had surfaced. Mom pretty much thought I was a freak and shoved me into Grandma's capable arms, the one person who understood. Another freak. Yep, Grandma, too, could read minds which made it hard for me to sneak out after curfew. Even though we had that ability in common, it didn't mean we got along. Until my illness, we'd rarely gotten along.

”I'm heading home now,” she said.

Home was a small, two bedroom cottage across the street that hung heavy with white Jasmine, a fragrant flower I could smell through my bedroom window at night.

”Okay, I'm almost done.”

She paused at the road, her short dark hair wavering on the cool breeze. ”Whose pink moped?”

I shrugged and made my way toward her. It was a cute Vespa, a soft pink in color with a white helmet dangling from the handlebar. I'd been admiring it earlier and even now couldn't resist running my fingers over the white seat.

”Not sure. It's been here awhile though. Was here when I got in this morning.” I frowned, glancing at the beach where palm trees swayed on the breeze. The ocean might look peaceful, but underneath there was a world of danger. ”Should we be concerned?”

It had been known to happen that tourists would go snorkeling and be taken out by the current, never to be seen again.

Grandma grinned, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. She wasn't like most Grandmas and looked younger than she was. We spent many mornings hiking the island, exploring waterfalls and bays. ”Nah. I think I know who the owner is.”

Confused, I watched her warily. I couldn't read her thoughts, I'd never been able to no matter how hard I tried. When thoughts from others flowed freely into the universe, Grandma's remained firmly encased in her brain. Until a few months ago, Grandma had been able to read mine, much to my ever growing annoyance. But since my illness Grandma had taught me things I'd always wanted to know, like how to block my thoughts from being read by others like us. Not that I knew anyone else like us. Still, it was a handy trick to have and made me feel as if I had more freedom.

”Who is the owner?” I asked.

She tossed something toward me. Instinctively I caught the small, s.h.i.+ny object. A key. I glanced up at her, shocked. She couldn't mean...

She grinned. ”Happy birthday. The moped is all yours.”

My mouth dropped open. ”Are you serious? But we can't afford it!”

She waved her hand through the air, dismissing my comment. ”Don't you worry about that.”

I threw my arms around her neck. Before my illness, we'd barely touched. I hugged her often now and much to my delight, she hugged me back.