Beyond Recognition

54

Ben waited across the street from the small purple house with its familiar neon sign, though each passing minute felt more like an hour. Home: There was no other way for him to describe it. There was a Chevrolet truck parked in the driveway, and Ben immediately slipped into his role of detailed scrutiny and analysis, noting the bumper sticker that declared the driver was a proud parent of an honor roll student, the steel toolbox mounted into the bed, probably indicating a construction worker or some other handyman.

Fifteen minutes later the driver of the truck, a lady who looked old enough to have kids, left Emily’s, climbed behind the wheel, and drove the truck away.

Ben started out walking but ended up running across the street, up the short driveway, and to the back door. He beat a three-knock summons onto the chipped paint, and when Emily answered, her face lit up, her arms swung open, and he threw himself into that warmth and love, hoping beyond reason that she might never let go.

A few minutes later she was offering him tea, toasting a slice of sourdough bread, and preparing a string of jams and jellies for him to choose from. Pouring them both a cup of tea, she delivered the toast and sat down across from him. She watched him with tear-pooled eyes as he tore into the toast and slurped down the tea.

“You ran away,” said the psychic.

Ben felt a spike of heat flood his cheeks. He forced a shrug, as if it wasn’t anything to get excited about.

“You ran away from the police,” she completed.

“They were busy,” he said. “Daphne was supposed to meet me.” Emily’s face screwed down a little tighter.

“What?” he finally asked her.

“We had a deal, Ben, you and me.”

“I know, I know, but-”

“Not buts. We had a deal. The police are looking after you. They’re trying to do their job.”

“They threatened you.”

“It’s not that,” she objected. “The police have been on my case for years. Sometimes they love psychics, like when they need them; sometimes they want to run them out of town. Believe me, I’m plenty familiar with the police. I can handle them. It’s you I had the deal with, not them.”

“I know.”

“And you promised me.”

“I missed you,” he said honestly, daring to look up at her, though afraid of her anger with him.

Tears sprang from her eyes. She blinked them away. Black ink ran down her cheeks, carried by the tears. Her lips were wet and puckered, and they quivered as she tried to speak. But then she came out of her chair, and around the table toward him, and took his head between her hands and drew him into her for another of those wonderful hugs.

And Ben knew he wasn’t going anywhere.