Insight (2 page)

I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes, holding his image in my mind, hoping this time that I’d find him instead of the unexpected horror that I’d already faced that night.

I slowly opened my eyes to a bright sunlit field. Relief swept through me as I started to search for the one who gave me peace—my blue-eyed boy.

It felt like I belonged there, like it belonged to me. There was only one flaw—utter silence. I had never heard the voice of the one I love. Everything looked so pure, innocent. The grass, trees, and flowers smelled so sweet. The birds and butterflies drifted silently through the air. A small creek led into a larger waterway that fell into a beautiful, gentle waterfall. Here, I was sure that I would find him. I wished every second of every day for this dream to come to life.

He was there, watching the water, waiting patiently for me to arrive, as he knew I always would. Feeling me approach, he turned and grinned at me as he brushed his dark, wavy hair out of his eyes. A smile lit my face. I felt the air leave my lungs as I took him in, a life force. It didn’t matter how many times I’d seen him butterflies still filled my stomach. My heart still beat a little bit faster, my soul hummed at the sight of him.

Each time my nightmare would come before our meeting, he could see it in my face and his unease and anger for whoever had hurt me was clear. Stepping closer to me, he read my eyes again. Instantly the smile in his eyes faded. I looked down, almost ashamed that I was so weak. He held out his arms and I fell into his embrace. Those strong hands eased down my back as he pressed us together and swayed us ever so slightly. I felt his lips on the crest of my brow; the sensation sent a quake through my entire body. I craved this boy. I
needed
him to be real.

I know it’s nuts, but I loved him so much that it hurt. His absence from my waking life was agony.

I wanted to stay here, to hear him. All the insane things that happened to me would be worth it if only he were real.

The sound of lawnmowers woke me before I had a chance to say goodbye to my blue-eyed boy. I looked down to see the star still resting inside my Ankh and shook my head in disbelief.

Knowing that I couldn’t lie still for another moment, I pulled myself up. On my bedside table, there was a note from my mother.
Libby is playing with Abby today. Abby’s grandmother is taking them to a movie this afternoon. Can you meet them at the theater at four? Meet me at the gallery, we’ll get dinner.

Love Mom

My mother, Grace, owns an art gallery at the corner of Main Street. She has a big showing this week. Most of the paintings are mine. She assumes that if I see the reaction of the public I will be inspired to paint again.

Now that the nightmares had returned, I was almost sure that I’d see an image today. It would feel good to paint again. Even though it was my crutch, it was also my release.

I had just finished getting dressed and was wondering what I was going to do with myself when I heard a knock on the front door. From the top of the stairs, I could see my friend, Dane, through the glass window that surrounded the door.

I have known Dane my entire life. I will never see him as anything more than a friend. He’s a little older than me, tall, with an athletic build. His eyes have always held seriousness beyond his years. In truth, we both felt out of place in this modest life in which we were raised.

Walking down the steps, I took in his calm demeanor which felt refreshing after last night. I opened the door and met him with a wry grin, but his smile faded when he saw me.

“Rough night?” he asked, as that all too serious stare rained down on me.

I rolled my eyes and waved him in. He followed me to the patio that lined the back of the house. I sat down on the swing that faced the yard. Dane sat down beside me and stretched his long arm out behind me.

“You okay, Willow?” he asked, looking down at me knowing the answer was no.

I nodded, staring into the distance.

“Did the nightmares come back?” he pushed.

I glanced up at him, not shocked that he had guessed so quickly. It was no secret among any of my friends that I was a violent sleeper.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dane asked, dropping his arm from the back of the swing to around my shoulders.

I didn’t mind it. Dane wasn’t like the other guys in town. I never once felt uncomfortable because of his emotions. He was like a big brother that knew how to make you feel safe.

“No, I’d rather just forget,” I murmured.

I could sense his frustration as he tried to think of a way to help me. “Was it a new moon last night?” Dane asked. He moved his fingers together as if he were counting the days that had gone by.

I shook my head no.

He was confused. Even he knew that it was odd for me to have a nightmare on any night other than the new moon. My friends would always stay at my house during those times, as if they could protect me from the bad dreams. Dane had told me to just stay awake. I considered the thought, but when I realized that meant I wouldn’t see my blue-eyed boy I chose sleep.

“I wonder why this one was different,” he said faintly.

I shrugged my shoulders. I felt as though I’d let my family and friends down. They’d been more relieved than I was when I had gone so long without a nightmare.

I stood slowly, hearing Dane sigh before he stood to follow me wherever I chose to go. A gust of summer air rustled through the trees, causing one of the branches to scrape against the roof of the patio. I grinned, feeling a sudden quick fear shoot through Dane before he had a chance to process what the noise was.

“Maybe you just have nightmares because of this house,” Dane said, blushing a little.

My house is over a hundred years old and has always been in my family. It is the most historic and admired home in the town of Franklin, but for some strange reason, Dane has never been completely comfortable here.

All at once I felt a gentle pull on me, the way I always did when an image would emerge, looking for my help.

In the center of my yard a young woman appeared. A sinking feeling quickly absorbed me. I blinked to make sure I was not imagining anything. She was on her knees, wearing a long black coat, holding a letter in her hands. She was crying breathlessly.

I stepped off the patio and walked slowly in her direction with Dane following right behind me. It would not be the first time he had watched me help an image. In fact, I was sure I had lost count of how many times he had actually come. He never asked any questions or even spoke about it. Each time, he would just act as if nothing had happened.

My eyes searched over the woman, trying to understand if the sorrow I felt coming from her was grief or loneliness. After a moment, I knelt in front of her, reached out with my hands and touched her shoulder.

With my touch, the gentle pull grew into a force that moved me forward. A tingling sensation absorbed me. The air around me shifted to freezing. It was dark. Snow fell softly through the air. The woman never raised her eyes to meet mine—the images never do. I tried to remember an emotion of absolute bliss, the way I always felt in my good dreams. I could feel her emotion shifting to the same pleasure. Her tears began to dry. A small smile came to the corners of her lips. I let go, slowly taking in her details, knowing that she would be my next sketch.

The same force that pulled me in pushed me away. I took in the tingle as it passed again. It didn’t matter how many times I went through something like that, it always left me enchanted with this seemingly mystical power that was calling my name.

I was back in my yard in the small town of Franklin on a warm summer day. I felt Dane standing behind me, his emotions calm. When we were kids, I could sense how terrifying this was to him. His emotion was powerful enough to make me question why I had no fear of this dance with the unknown.

Now, it’s as common to him as a simple conversation.

I took a deep breath before I turned and walked back to the patio. Dane followed me. As I sat back down in the swing, he passed me and went into the house. I stared blankly at the door, trying to figure out what he was doing. He returned abruptly with a sketchbook and stick of charcoal, then walked over and handed them to me before taking a seat.

I leaned back in the swing, pulling my legs to me to balance the pad. My hand then flew across the page as I outlined the woman. As she came to life on the pad, I realized how observant Dane really is. He understood the significance of my art. Why I sketched. That it had nothing to do with a raw unclaimed talent, but that it was my grip on sanity.

When it was done, he smiled and shook his head. “Well, the rebellion thing didn’t work. Maybe we should play up the nightmares,” he said in a teasing manner that held a volume of truth.

He and my closest friend, Olivia, tried to help me come up with excuses for not going away to school. The school was my mother’s dream, not mine, and in truth, if it were up to me, I would never leave Franklin. I knew everyone here. Their emotions were familiar and I knew how to block them if need be. The thought of being in a huge city filled with millions of emotions was exhausting. I seriously contemplated Dane’s words before we both broke into laughter.

“What time is it?” I asked.

He looked at his watch. “Three thirty,” he answered, a little shocked by how quickly time had passed.

“I have to walk down and get Libby for Mom,” I said, standing and folding the sketchpad closed.

“I’ll walk with you. I have to work tonight,” Dane said, stretching before he stood. His mother, Gina, owned a small diner in town named, appropriately enough, Gina’s. Dane seemed slated to run it one day, but that was a fate he would never choose for himself.

My house sat just one block from Main Street, the heart of town. I slipped on my sandals and walked side by side with Dane down the sidewalk. Almost everyone we passed waved, followed by a
Tell your dad I said hello
.

Dane just shook his head. “Your dad should, like, run for president. He would so win,” he said, nodding as someone else said
Say hello to your dad
to me again.

“You’re probably right,” I muttered, suddenly remembering him leaving last night and the way my mother was acting. I was still eager to find out what had gotten into them.

My friend, Olivia, is working at the theater for the summer. Her passions are movies and books, so it’s a fitting job for her. Olivia is one of those people that I enjoy being around because words are not always needed. We are the two girls who sit on the sidelines, watching others in our class. Because Olivia is small and has the same olive skin and long dark hair as I do, teachers often mistake one of us for the other. Our eyes are similar, too, but I’ve always thought that mine were stranger than hers. When she saw Dane and me coming, a smile absorbed her bored face.

“What have you guys been up to today?” Olivia asked.

“Sketching,” Dane answered, all too cynically.

Olivia’s smile fell. “Man, I really thought that one would have worked.” She was sincerely trying to help me stay here. I had to love her for that.

“Wait,” Dane said, raising his hands to make his words have more of an effect. “I have good news—the nightmares are back.”

I elbowed him to tell him to chill on the negative energy he was spouting off. I was fine. I was making it from one minute to the next just like I always had.

“Really?” Olivia gasped. “Do you guys have any good news for me?” she asked as her concerned gaze melted over me.

“Afraid not,” Dane said quickly. “Hey, I gotta go. If your lights are on when I get done tonight, I’ll stop by,” he said to me.

I nodded and watched him go.

“I don’t think I will ever figure the two of you out,” Olivia said under her breath.

I tossed a dirty glance in her direction. I was always teased about not dating Dane, or anyone, for that matter.

“Just kidding,” Olivia said, smiling and raising her hands defensively.

The doors to the theater opened. I could see Libby coming up the aisle with her friend and her grandmother.

“Hey, let’s do something tomorrow,” Olivia said, knowing that I’d soon turn my attention to Libby. I nodded and walked to meet Libby. When she saw me, she ran in my direction, her emotion drenched in excitement.

“Oh, that was the best movie ever! The princess had green eyes like you!”

“Are you sure? I thought only witches had green eyes?” I teased.

Not finding it very amusing, her wide smile lessened. I waved goodbye to Olivia, and Libby told her friend goodbye. She must have known I was supposed to take her to Mom’s gallery because she turned in that direction as we left the theater and all but pulled me down the sidewalk.

“Willow, why are you walking so slow? I want to see Mom. Which pieces of yours are in the show?”

Libby never had just one question.

“It’s just nice out. I want to enjoy it.”

“What pictures of yours are in the show?” she asked again.

She knew I was avoiding the answer.

“I don’t know. Mom didn’t ask me.”

Libby started going on about which ones were her favorite. I listened half-heartedly as I scanned the crowd, looking for another image. The woman wearing a black coat had left me with a craving to help someone else.