Joy had made the best of it and took up cheerleading.
Alison had known her height for what it was, one more thing that set her apart from everyone else.
Her gaze skated over the empty wall unit opposite as well as the pictureless walls. She had sold the furniture a week ago to the therapist taking over most of her practice. Other than the foot-high unity statue sitting in the center of the coffee table, her office was a desert, as dry as the air outside, as lifeless.
Her gaze shifted to the alabaster carving, and a silent curse worked her tongue. The last remnant of her eight-year stint in private practice was that aggravating statue. She smoothed back hair already pulled into a tight twist. If only her sister hadn’t called to discuss her love life, maybe she wouldn’t feel quite so ready to scream.
“Please, Lissy,” Joy said in a voice that sent a warning chill straight down her spine. “I really, really think you should try again.”
All the breath left Alison’s body as she stared at the alabaster family. She thought of her nephew whom she loved more than she had ever thought possible, one of her links to normalcy as Aunt Lissy.
Her heart fractured then broke into a million pieces.
This couldn’t be happening, this truth, which Joy’s desperate tone had finally unveiled, the reason for her phone call.
Oh. No.
At last she drew breath. She took several. “Joy,” she whispered. Her heart thumped through a couple of questionable beats.
“Yes?” Nothing more than a squeak this time.
Dear sister. Dear normal sister. “How far along are you? Six weeks? Eight?”
“Did you just read my mind? You’re not supposed to, remember? You just broke Mom’s rule.”
“I didn’t read your mind. I wouldn’t, not without your permission.” Another breath, another effort to calm her unsteady heart. She needed the truth, but she didn’t want to hear it. “It’s just that you haven’t brought up my love life in, oh, let’s see, three years. Really. So how far along are you?” She didn’t want to know. Joy, please don’t say it.
A heavy sigh followed. “Two months, one week. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
Alison used her free hand to white-knuckle the armrest of the chair. “And you thought I’d be upset?” Dammit, her eyes burned like she’d just rubbed them with chili peppers. Upset didn’t begin to describe what she felt. Upset would have been a lazy walk on the beach.
She squeezed her eyes shut and bent over, folding up like a taco to keep everything inside from spilling out. She had only one wish: that the world would end right now.
A second child. A husband, a home, little T. J., and now another baby on the way.
“Of course you’ll be upset,” Joy said. Her cadence had slowed down. “You think I haven’t noticed how anytime we’re together you pick T. J. up and don’t give him back until we’ve loaded the car? Even then I have to pry him out of your arms.”
“Saw that, did you?”
“Oh, Lissy, I know how you look at Ryan and me. Do you suppose for even one second I don’t get how much your heart’s broken? What kind of sister do you think I am?”
Alison could have sworn she’d been more careful, more circumspect, but maybe that was like a ripe tomato trying not to be red. She should have known her sister would see through her. “I’ll be all right.” She swiped at damp cheeks.
“Like hell. I’m so sorry, Lissy.” A soft sigh, then, “Maybe you could—”
“Please don’t,” she cried. “Not another word. Please.” She squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled herself together. “I have an idea. Why don’t we just forget about me for a moment.” She arched up from her hinged position and forced herself to be a good sister. “I want to hear every single detail about this new life, so tell me everything. When did you find out?” More tears tracked her cheeks.
The tenor of her sister’s voice returned to the usual soft wind-chime treble as she rattled off all her symptoms, travails, and excitement. She had to pee too much already, her hemorrhoids were a bitch—and she wasn’t even three months along, thank you very much—and she had the worst time just staying awake. But oh, God, she could hardly wait until she felt the first movement of life, the fluttering deep inside, the certainty a new baby was on the way.
Alison listened and made every appropriate ooh and aah even though she pressed a hand to her chest the whole time. Her gaze became fixed to the heavy-as-hell alabaster statue, sculpted to show the images of father, mother, and child, a symbol of internal unity, the exact representation of the goal of therapy. She had thought herself so clever at the time buying it.
“I have to wear maternity pants already…,” Joy rattled on, a car on a salt flat gaining speed.
Alison stood up and rounded the coffee table. She positioned herself opposite the window then looked down to stare at the alabaster figures once more. She had loved everything about the sculpture until her sister’s first child had come into the world. Then the meaning had changed, shifted, taken on razor-sharp edges, which kept slicing Alison up.
“We’ve already been talking about names. Ryan really wants a girl…”
Alison’s mind drifted over her own peculiar struggles. She had been born with a bizarre assortment of weird abilities that made it impossible to get close to a man; strange extrasensory “gifts” that didn’t always have a controlled end, especially if she was caught up in a moment of, well, increasing passion.
A vow of celibacy had followed the trip to the emergency room, an absolute requirement given her oh-so-special abilities.
But this, Joy getting to live out her life in the usual manner, had set coals to the bottom of Alison’s feet.
“We’re looking at cribs tomorrow and Ryan wants to get one of those double strollers…”
She leaned over the table and assessed the exact point of balance required to palm the heavy statue in one hand. She’d be able to now since she’d been working out hard for the past six months, running, weight lifting, stair-stepping, Spinning.
How nice in this moment to be so strong.
She wrapped one hand around the statue then lifted. She hefted the family to shoulder height then arched her wrist slowly to support the statue in her hand. She pressed it a couple of times. Up, down. Up, down.
“You’re still coming to Mom and Dad’s, right?” Joy asked.
“Absolutely,” she said, forcing the enthusiasm, but it was like pushing raw potatoes through a sieve. “Mom would kill me if I didn’t show.”
Three days from now. She would need every second between to gain perspective, to remind herself of all the good things of her life, to be able to be around her sister and not be overcome by either jealousy or despair.
Goddammit.
“So, Mom said you already have an idea for your dissertation. You must be thrilled about starting school again. You’ve always wanted to go back.”
Alison couldn’t listen anymore, couldn’t respond in a happy voice one more time. Yes, she was going back to school, and yes, part of her was excited, but Joy had the life Alison wanted, the normal life with love, a good man, babies. No, she couldn’t utter one more positive word.
She decided to lie and spoke in a hushed voice. “Listen, Joy, my last client just arrived so I’d better go.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. See you at Mom and Dad’s.”
“You bet.”
“Love you.”
“Love you more.”
Alison pressed the little red button then tossed her cell sideways onto the cushion of the wing chair. She kept her gaze fixed on the four-by-eight window. Her eyes burned all over again and her throat constricted.
Her last client wouldn’t arrive for a little while yet.
She had time … to get her head straight.
She flexed her powerful right arm. Oh, but she shouldn’t do this. She really shouldn’t. She had been a responsible tenant in the medical building for the past eight years. This could be classified as insane.
Despite her calm reasoning, she pivoted to stand with her left shoulder facing the window. She drew her right arm back. She even lifted her left knee for more stability and strength, like a Diamondback pitcher. Then, without allowing her thoughts to muddle the moment, she aimed the statue at the long plate-glass window above the green chenille sofa and threw with all her might.
The shattering glass sounded like heaven and for a split second, she could actually smile. The moment dragged out in slow motion until reality struck and she realized exactly what she had done. Without thinking, she reached out and snatched a pocket of time, slowing the forward movement of the shattered window until time stopped.
What?
What?
All the glass froze in place. Even the unity statue floated three feet beyond the sill.
She looked down at her hand, palm up, fingers curled in. She felt the pull on her entire arm as though a large rubber band had stretched out and grabbed hold of some distant invisible object then held tight.
She shook her head, astonished.
Alison Wells … human … held time in her hand.
How was this possible?
How were any of her special abilities possible? From the time she was a little girl, she could perform amazing preternatural feats, but to what purpose? Her powers simply made no sense in her world. She had no use for them, no way to exhibit them without being shipped to Area 51 and studied as a science project.
Beyond that, what was the point, ever, of being able to seize a little pocket of time and hold it in your hand?
Once Kerrick prepared for battle, he called Central and got a fold, a quick dematerialization, to the downtown Phoenix alley. The journey between lasted a rough second, maybe two, a dark ride through nether-space, a blanking-out then sudden hard awareness, a blinding rush of adrenaline followed by a blast of endorphins. To arrive was to be prepared … for anything.
Kerrick was one of the most powerful warriors on Second Earth. However, he had a flaw, which still chapped his hide. He couldn’t fold himself to another location. He had to get an assist every time from either Central or one of his warrior brothers, even Endelle on occasion.
