Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

“Enjoy!” he sent with a wink at Jemma and then a smirk at Don, who rolled his eyes at his son.

Jemma looked down at the plate in front of her, which held chicken breast, brown rice, and broccoli.

“It smells delicious,” she sent, looking around her plate. “If you could point me in the direction of a fork, I’d be happy to confirm it tastes as good.”

Jack looked down at the table and then seemed to almost deflate. His father, meanwhile, resumed his silent laughter. When Jack looked up again, meeting Jemma’s gaze, he wore a pout that didn’t quite match the amusement that showed around his eyes.

“You mean it doesn’t look like finger food? Shucks,” he sent, standing as his father laughed harder, wiggling his fingers toward Jack. “I’ll be right back with utensils,” he sent, pout finally making way for a smile. “Maybe even a napkin or two.”

Don waggled his eyebrows at Jemma, who smiled at him. He pointed in the direction of the kitchen and then back at Jemma, then carefully shifted his fingers until he was giving her a thumbs up.

She reached for the whiteboard and scribbled,
You know we’re just friends, right?

Don stuck out his bottom lip contemplatively before he nodded and gave another thumbs up. Jack came back with the rest of their place settings and looked between the two of them.

“Dad says to tell you it’s a good match either way, but he won’t tell me what that’s in response to,” sent Jack.

Don’s pleased expression told Jemma that Jack had let his father hear both message and complaint. Don winked at Jemma, then reached for a fork and dug into his food. Jack handed Jemma her utensils and a napkin and then sat back down, watching Jemma expectantly. After an encouraging, silent rumble from her stomach, Jemma started eating her dinner, sending approval to Jack through their connection. After grinning at her, he joined them, dinner passing in comfortable silence.

***

Don’s energy level had dropped noticeably by the end of the meal, and Jack helped him to bed after they finished eating. Jemma carried the dirty dishes to the kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher, closing it as Jack returned.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he sent along with a wave of gratitude.

“It wasn’t a problem. I’m used to doing it at my parents’ house, anyway,” she sent back. She started to walk back out of the kitchen, then stopped. “Oh! Your dad didn’t get any dessert.”

“He’s already asleep,” said Jack, “but if it’s something that’ll keep as long as it stays in the fridge, he’ll enjoy it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” sent Jemma. “Yeah, it’ll keep.” She rubbed her neck, remembering how tired Don had looked. It was no wonder Jack worried about him, especially if this was a good day for the man.

“That’s good.” Jack looked at the refrigerator, then back at Jemma. “Am
I
allowed to have some tonight?”

“Of course!” said Jemma, her startled look dissolving into a smile. “But only if I can have some, too.”

“I suppose,” he sent with a sigh, and Jemma laughed.

“You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“True, but hey,” he sent, “if it’s dessert, I’m a fan.”

He pulled it out of the refrigerator, setting it on the counter and looking at Jemma for permission before opening the Tupperware. She nodded and watched, still smiling, as he opened the container, puzzled at the smaller container inside it. He opened the inner container and saw the pie, and his face lit up.

“Mississippi Mud Pie?”

Jemma nodded. “It’s a really easy version of it, but it tastes pretty good.”

“If it tastes even half as good as it looks,” he sent, “I’m gonna need you to get me the recipe.”

“We’ll see,” sent Jemma, teasing him as he grabbed plates and served the slices without ceremony.

“Come on,” he sent, closing his eyes and licking the fork he’d used to serve his piece. “Let’s go sit and relax.”

She followed him past the dining room and into the living room, where he sat on the sofa, the only piece of furniture in the room. She sat next to him and ate her pie, savoring each bite. Jack, who had finished his slice before hers was halfway gone, grabbed the remote.

“Mind if I turn on the news?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“That’s fine,” she sent.

The station he settled on seemed very close to “normal” according to standards set before The Event. The anchors appeared to speak audibly, but there was still a stilted quality to the words, something not quite right about how they synced up with the anchors’ mouths, that told Jemma the anchors were making use of voice apps, probably reading from teleprompters that displayed what the voice was about to say.

Both anchors were female, and the display briefly labeled them as Sarah and Courtney.

“The money was returned to the bank,” Courtney was saying, “and police are unsure as to how, exactly, it got there.”

The video cut to a recording of a person inside the bank, words captioned as the person used sign language to explain that the money seemed to have just reappeared.

Jemma finished her dessert and set the plate down next to her, sinking back against the couch cushions and closing her eyes. It was strange to Jemma how comfortable she was with Jack, how easy it was for her to let her barriers down. It was nice having a friend.

Jemma opened her eyes, startled out of her thoughts by the next news segment.

“Seen here is Taylor Brown, who claimed to be able to speak to specific people from anywhere in the country,” said Sarah.

The photo looked like a screenshot from YouTube. It showed a man with dark skin, his eyes shining like her sister’s did when she was sharing something that excited her.

“The video has since been removed, so we’re unable to play it for you, but in the video, Taylor Brown was able to offer clear evidence of this telepathy,” said Courtney.

“Because of the video’s removal, verifying the authenticity has become nearly impossible. Some users say the method of filming showed a live webcam feed of Brown’s back along with the unidentified woman who was Talking to him, with a clock in each frame, giving as close to incontrovertible proof as possible in this digital age. Others say there were obvious inconsistencies between the two feeds, that the video was a hoax.” Sarah looked at Courtney.

“What is clear, however, is that Taylor Brown is now missing. His family has been unable to locate him and is offering a small reward if you are able to help.”

The station went to commercial, and Jemma looked at Jack.

“This feels real,” she sent. He was still for a minute before looking back at her and nodding.

“It does.” He fell quiet.

Jemma slowed her breathing, which was a little faster than normal, and then sent another message to Jack.

“Okay. So, what are we gonna do?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN:

Next

“I don’t know,” sent Jack, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, we suspected this already, and it still isn’t definite.”

Jemma nodded. “We should probably be a little more careful. Maybe not Talk in public."

Jack sent hesitation. "I know we could avoid Talking, but I think it's gotten to be a bit of a habit to Talk during the day, for both of us."

Jemma nodded, trying to remember the last time they'd completely closed their connection. Had it only been a few days?. He was right that they could do it, but it would be difficult.

"We could pretend we're dating," she sent. "Then there's reason for us to be able to Talk when we've only recently been seen together other than brief library exchanges." She fiddled with the seam at her knee.

Jack watched her. "It wouldn't be just casual dating; you were right when you said it hasn’t been long. Kids, even teenagers can connect more quickly, but for adults to starting Talking in the time we have? People will assume we're intimate, in every sense of the word."

"What does that... I mean..." Jemma exhaled through her nose and stopped to collect her thoughts. "I've never been in that sort of relationship. What would we do differently in public? I don't care whether people assume more than is going on, especially if we've done something to lead them to that conclusion, but I’m not sure how to act."

"I don't know that much has to be different," he sent. "I tend to get fairly tactile, but people only see us physically together when you're at work, so it would make sense for me to hold back. The balcony is within normal Talking range of the circulation desk, at least if I sit at one of the closer tables. We wouldn't have to advertise anything, though it would make sense for at least Cecily to know."

Jemma was quiet again. "We have to act as if the sounds we've been hearing, the doors opening, the person in the parking lot, they all mean someone is watching us. It could be that all of these things are coincidence, but in case they’re not, we need to make sure we really look like we’re that close. We need to avoid giving anyone reason to think we’re anything out of the ordinary, that our Talking is anything special. I just hope we haven’t already tipped someone off by not pretending earlier."

Jack nodded. "I'd prefer to stick with the idea of this just being theoretical, preventative,” he sent, “but you're right. There have been enough signs telling us that it wouldn't hurt to be extra cautious."

She ran a hand through her hair. "I don't think I'd be very affectionate in public, regardless of the type of relationship. And if anyone's watching us in private, at home, I haven’t seen any signs of it, have you?"

He shook his head. "I haven't noticed anything strange at home."

"So then," she sent, "we'd have to pretend if it came up at the library, if another patron noticed us Talking. It'd also be good to tell Cecily, since I would be upfront about that, dating someone I met as a library patron."

"Fair enough. Dad already knows we're Talking, so we don't really need to tell him anything. He wouldn't talk to anyone about us and I don't think he'd react if someone told him we were together." He paused. "I know you're not comfortable being dishonest. Will you be okay with this? I'd have suggested it earlier or gone along when you brought it up before, but since we didn't have as much reason..."

She took another deep breath, releasing it slowly. "I think with the patrons, I won't have any problem. I can be vague enough to avoid an outright lie, at least. Cecily is pretty old fashioned, so even if I said you and I had spent an evening on the couch together, she would assume we were dating." She rested her head back against the cushions. "My parents, though. I’ll need to tell them, and they're not just going to accept it. They'll have questions and need to meet you, and I don't want this ending up like one of those silly romantic comedies with the lead characters pretending to date."

"Those movies do tend to get a bit ridiculous," he sent. Jemma looked over at Jack, who was still watching her, a lopsided grin on his face. "But based on what you've said, you probably wouldn't put off telling your parents you were dating once you knew it was serious."

"I'll figure out something. It won't be the first time I've refused to keep talking about a relationship," she sent. "And it isn't like they'll think I'm making up a boyfriend. I'd rather lie to them, if I have to, about something that won't hurt anyone, than go missing, or whatever exactly is going on with the others."

"If you're sure?" he sent with a wave of something that felt vaguely like curiosity. She nodded. "I guess we're doing this, then."

"It does sound like the best option," Jemma agreed. She looked down at her lap, trying to figure out what she might be able to tell her parents to keep them from making a big deal out of their relationship, but she failed to find immediate answers.

"Can I ask a personal question?" Jack broke into her thoughts.

She nodded. "You can always ask. I can't promise I'll always answer."

He smirked, but then he took on a more serious look and seemed to be searching for words. "You said you hadn't been in an intimate relationship. It isn't really necessarily relevant, but does that mean you've never..."

It was Jemma's turn to smirk. "Surely you can at least say the word. I'm sure
you
have."

His cheeks were red, and he rubbed his neck again. "I have, but when I don't know whether... I mean..."

Jemma sent a wave of understanding and mild apology. "I have, but not as part of a real relationship. Infrequently, but I have. One of my weaknesses, and also one of my strengths, is that if I don't know something and have a way of finding out, I usually have to try."

He smiled. "Research."

"Exactly," she sent, returning his grin. "Speaking of, I thought we could see whether we have anything in common other than the library."

"Okay," he sent. "Why's that?"

"Well, the noises started around the time we started Talking, before we were Talking during the day, and we've established that we don't feel we're being watched at home."

"Okay. I'm following," he sent.

"So, if we assume we're being watched because of the possibility that we might have advanced telepathy," she sent, "then that means whomever is watching knew that it was a possibility before we did."