C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN
H
e picked me up early the next morning and drove straight to the harbor. We quizzed each other on everything from my plans for college to my favorite songs. He didn’t tease me when I admitted I had a perfect GPA and had applied to a few pre-med programs. I wanted to be a doctor—my abilities made it a natural career choice. In turn, I asked him why he and Lottie attended high school, while Gabe acted as guardian.
“It helps us to fit in better. Gabe refuses to go to high school again. He says four times was enough. Acting as our guardian stops people from questioning us about our parents.”
“How did Blackwell Falls end up being named after you?”
“After the war, none of us wanted to go back to England. We came here instead, looking for a new beginning. When we arrived, there was nothing but trees and beaches for miles. We loved how peaceful and secluded it was. Then, Gabe opened a mill to keep busy, and people came from all over to work for us. Before we knew it, we were a town, and Gabe was mayor. You should see his portrait in town hall.”
“You make it sound easy.”
He smiled. “No. But money moves mountains, and we have it to burn.”
My own smile was wry. I’d guessed as much. “Didn’t people notice when you didn’t age?”
Asher sighed. “We leave before that becomes a problem.”
Lucy had said that this group of Blackwells was the latest heirs. “How many times have you returned here?”
“A few. We have to wait a couple of decades between visits. That way, we can return as the long-lost cousins, brothers, sons, etc. of the last Blackwells. We will the house to ourselves each time we leave.”
I struggled to understand the reality the Blackwells lived with. “Why return here? What’s so special about this place?”
“At first, it was a place to escape to. To forget the past and deal with who we’d become. Then, it became home. One of them, anyway.” He shot me a sweet smile. “And now, there’s you.”
Before I could respond, he pulled the Audi into a line of cars waiting to drive onto the Cooper Island ferry. I didn’t know a lot about the island, except that it had salt marshes and another of Maine’s famous lighthouses. As we waited, he switched the discussion back to me and asked about my favorite books.
“That easy.
Gray’s Anatomy.
” I laughed at the doubt in his expression. I couldn’t blame him considering how dry the book was. “No, really. I have to picture people’s injuries to heal them. I would’ve been lost without it.”
Fascinated, Asher turned in his seat to face me. “You have to picture injuries to heal them?”
“Yes. How do the other Healers do it?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. I was never curious enough to ask before you.” His answer made me squirm a little in my seat. It warmed me to know he felt as curious about me as I did about him.
“Is something wrong with your dad?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Last night, I thought I sensed you healing him.”
That’s why he’d shot Ben that odd look. I nodded. “He has some kind of heart condition. It doesn’t seem to give him any problems, but it keeps coming back. It kind of bothers me, actually. That’s never happened before.”
Asher’s thoughtful silence ended when we were at last given the go-ahead to drive onto the ferry. As soon as we parked, we climbed out of the car and headed up to the passenger deck. The engines rumbled and the ferry motored along, leaving the Falls behind. I followed Asher to the front of the boat and onto a deserted U-shaped deck with green hand rails that resembled a forked tongue. A freezing wind nearly knocked me over as Asher informed me that the deck was fondly referred to as a “pickle fork” and not a “forked tongue.”
He grinned, mischievously, when I glanced up. “You know, Asher, you seem to be in my head a lot these days.”
His laugh sounded freer than usual. “That sounds like the beginning of a really bad pickup line. Are you going to tell me that I must be tired because I’ve been running in your dreams all night?”
He leaned against the railing with casual grace, while the wind tossed his long hair into a gorgeous tangle of chocolate waves. It wasn’t fair that he could look so delicious standing in the elements, while I bore a strong likeness to a Q-tip—tall and skinny with a mass of curls frizzing out in the wind.
Asher reached into his coat pocket, whipped out a baseball cap, and waved it at me. With a smirk, he held it out. I elbowed him in the ribs when I took it from him and pulled it on, twisting my hair up under it. “Keep it up, buddy. I’m going to start thinking about how I’d like to throw you over the side.”
With a tug on the bill of the cap, he merely laughed. “I can’t help it, beautiful. You don’t seem to be offering up any roadblocks today.”
He was right, I realized, with surprise. My walls had been down all morning.
He grimaced. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re going to block me out now, aren’t you?”
I considered him for a long time before shaking my head. It was time to take a chance, and if the shy, pleased light in his eyes brought on the butterflies, I could deal. Besides, his ability to read my mind could be a defense against danger.
“Will you be okay?” I asked. “It doesn’t seem to bother you as much when we touch.”
He looked surprised, as if he’d realized his own walls were down. “You know, you’re right. I haven’t been in pain at all this morning. Maybe I’m getting used to you.”
I could only hope that was true. I wanted him to feel more than pain when we touched.
A half hour later, the ferry docked at the small harbor on Cooper Island. Few people lived on the three-mile-wide landmass, but some summer homes clung to the rocky cliffs. Asher drove off the boat and within minutes we’d parked in front of a tiny café, the lone business in sight. He swung my hand between us, his touch a test—one that obviously didn’t pain him. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye with barely suppressed excitement and nodded to the café.
“This is my surprise?” The dilapidated diner had seen better days. The faded white building needed a serious paint job. Better yet, someone needed to demolish it. It leaned to one side as if a storm had depleted its ability to stand upright.
Asher grinned at my obvious disbelief and shook his head. “I know it doesn’t look like much. Your first surprise is waiting inside.”
“First surprise? There’s more than one?” Surprises had been few and far between in my life, and most of those had been bad. “You do realize it’s not my birthday?”
“Something tells me you’ve missed out on a lot of presents. I hope you’re hungry. Come on.” An aging man stood behind the counter when we entered the café, and I was surprised to find the four tables in the space-challenged room all occupied. An incredible aroma of spices and . . . cheese? . . . filled the air. Asher waited for me to grasp what the surprise was, but I was at a loss until I spotted a sign above the counter on which the chef boasted they had the
WORLD’S BEST MAC AND CHEESE.
Asher’s face blossomed into a pleased grin at my laugh.
“Seriously? World’s best?” My teasing tone had a hint of skepticism.
“We won’t know until you try it.” Asher paid for a large to-go carton of the infamous pasta, and we headed back to the car. When I made a swipe for it, he proceeded to hold the carton out of reach. “Patience, woman! There’s another surprise to be had.”
He drove away from the harbor to the opposite side of the island that faced the open ocean. We arrived at a small cottage—a real one this time, unlike Ben’s—and Asher shut off the engine. Reaching behind my seat, he retrieved a closed box.
“What’s this?”
“Your second surprise. No peeking.”
I trailed after him into the cottage. It was maybe four hundred square feet. The kitchen and living area were one room. I could see a bathroom and a bedroom to one side. Cramped and tiny, the space had room for a few pieces of furniture and little else. “What is this place, Asher?”
“My home,” he answered, with simple satisfaction.
“This is yours?”
“I built it a long time ago, so I’d have a place to go to be alone.”
He didn’t say it, but I knew I was the first person he’d brought here. He set the box on the counter and built a fire in an old-fashioned wood-burning stove. I felt him studying me as I wandered around the room. Asher didn’t have a TV, but shelves of books lined one wall. I trailed a hand along the back of the overstuffed couch, until I came to the end table with its black-and-white photo of Lottie wearing her usual bobbed hair, red lipstick, and a flapper dress. Another reality to face. The Blackwells had lived during the Roarin’ Twenties.
I looked up at Asher. “I love it.”
Something in him relaxed, and he smiled. “I’m glad.”
He began unpacking the box: an espresso machine, milk, cocoa, and a packet of coffee beans.
“You’re making me a café mocha?” I asked, stunned.
He mock-scowled at me and crossed his arms. “Not just any café mocha. I’ll have you know I flew this particular blend in from Italy. This is going to be
the
café mocha of your life.”
I giggled at the idea of him working the espresso machine in an apron like my neighborhood barista.
One eyebrow rose at me as if in disappointment. “Your mockery wounds me. I have half a mind to deny you your second surprise.”
When I stepped up to him, his eyes lit with amusement. The look faded when I gave in to the impulse I’d had since the first day we’d met and ran my fingers along the scar that slashed through one of his brows. Smooth skin warmed me where we touched, and the butterflies I’d feared began to flit about my insides. Intent eyes watched me, hardly breathing, or even blinking when I stood on my tiptoes to kiss the scar. Strong arms wound around my waist holding me off balance, poised on my toes, when I would have pulled away. His eyes flashed with lightning, like the green sparks that lit between us, as his face lowered to mine, his breath touching my lips.
The fire popped behind him, and it felt like coming out of a powerful healing. Asher released me with a shaken look. Steady on my feet now, I felt more off balance than ever.
Asher loved pasta. Apparently, he’d thought me crazy to hold mac and cheese among my favorite foods, but he ate his words when I took my first bite and tapped his hand. I couldn’t tell which of us enjoyed it more, but we both agreed the café had earned their “World’s Best” title. The café mocha was lost on him, though, and I scoffed at him, “Tea lover.”
After the impromptu living room picnic, I helped him wash the dishes at the sink, our hips bumping as he washed and I dried.
He tweaked my nose with soapy fingers. “Caffeine addict.”
My lips twitched as I ducked away. “You know, you may have ruined me for all future surprises. I don’t think anyone will ever be able to top today. The ‘World’s Best’ mac and cheese and a homemade café mocha. Impressive, Blackwell.”
“The day’s not over, O’Malley. I have one more surprise.”
My last surprise turned out to be a walk to the top of the island’s lighthouse. A thrill sped down my spine when I stepped outside onto the deck and looked down to the ocean crashing against the rocks below. “Asher, you’ve got to see this!” I breathed.
He didn’t join me, and I turned in surprise to find him several feet behind me away from the rail that enclosed the deck. “Asher?”
A wry smile lifted one side of his full lips. “Did I happen to mention I hate heights?” He gestured to the scar above his eyebrow and tucked both hands in his coat pockets. I rested against the rail facing him, and he grimaced. “Do you have to do that?”
“It’s completely safe. There’s no way I could go over the side.” I turned and leaned forward to take in the view. Two large hands suddenly grasped my hips, and I was lifted off my feet and yanked back several feet from the edge into Asher’s chest. Both of his arms wrapped around my waist to keep me still, creating a warm, comfortable embrace I didn’t want to escape from. His chin rested on the top of my head. A cold breeze buffeted us, but his body sheltered me.
“You’re right. The view is better from back here.”
I’d given him his cap back and felt his smile in my loose hair. “Sorry. My heart nearly stopped when you leaned over the edge.”
“Did you fall before? Is that how you got the scar?”
“Hmm . . . Right after the War.”
He sounded hesitant, and I wondered how he’d been hurt. “I thought the Protectors were invincible, outside our unusual circumstances.”
“No. Not invincible. We can get hurt and even die, but it takes a lot of effort.”
His tone sounded thoughtful, and I frowned. “That makes it sound like you’ve tried.”
I twisted in his embrace when he remained silent. His expression was carefully blank. “Asher, what happened?”
He tucked a wayward piece of hair behind my ear. “It was a long time ago, Remy.”