A Fair Distance: Comes a Time. Chapter Sixteen (part one)
Title: A Fair Distance: Comes a Time. Chapter Sixteen (part one. part two follows).
Fandom The Sentinel
Author: Laurie
Type: Slash
Rating: PG-17 (for the series)
Word count: 12393 words
Warnings: Link to warnings for the entire series
Written for Sentinel Thursday Challenge 157: Contact
Beta’ed by t_verano. We're coming to the end of this story and you've been such a huge part of it. Thank you.
Summary for A Fair Distance: A year after Blair left Jim, and Cascade, they meet again in a small Tennessee town. Blair's been arrested and is being held for questioning at the request of the Cascade PD.
This is the third and final arc to the story, and the two earlier arcs, A Fair Distance:Running on Empty and A Fair Distance: Ball and Chain, as well as several time stamps, can be located at my LJ here or at Artifact Storage Room 3 here or at AO3 here. I believe that AO3 has a nifty feature that allows you to download onto E-readers.
The weekend after William manifested to Jim was the first time I heard the crying.
I'd gone to sleep early on Sunday night because of my crack-of-dawn roll-out time Monday morning from the loading dock on Wharf St. I'd curled up next to Jim, who'd gone to bed with me but who was reading a book in our darkened bedroom instead of sleeping. Sometime between sleep cycles, though, I wandered back into Jim's blue-tinted dreamscape, the jungle he'd constructed that resembled the rainforests of Peru.
These days Blue Jungle Land was sunny and welcoming. I had no desire to hide or run as I'd once had when I'd been drawn into this spirit plane against my will. When the spirit plane had let me return to the mundane, material plane of existence, I hadn't even remembered my frantic scrambling through the tangled bush or feeling so lost and desolate from the destruction of my pitiful hiding places. Not until I'd return again and remember how terrified I was of the jaguar who kept seeking me out.
Things were so different now and I was calm and observant as I wandered down paths through the brush or up hills.
I was myself, not immersed with my spirit guide, either in human or wolf form. I was sitting by the little pool I'd grown so fond of, my bare legs dangling in the cool water, when I first heard heartbroken sobbing. It sounded far away and it disturbed me.
I was sure it was a child crying, and I went to find that unhappy soul, hoping I could offer some comfort.
After walking for a time, I came close enough to those pitiful sounds to glimpse a small, fair-haired boy, all curled in on himself as he lay there on the ground, sobbing his little heart out. He sat up suddenly, teary-eyed, and when he saw me he looked scared and in a flash changed into a weasel and scampered away.
I knew even before I saw the form of the spirit guide that it was William who was crying.
He'd chosen to retreat to a child's form, and from the way he was sobbing, I expected whatever he was upset about was the origin for his aversion to Jim having a relationship with another man. After all, this was the spirit plane and everything had meaning here. I pondered what to do to build trust with him, so that he would talk to me.
I glanced down at myself and wondered if me being naked might have spooked him. This was Jim's dreamscape and Jim had always pictured me sans clothing, so that's how I appeared. But William had looked to be a boy of about nine or ten, and it might be easier on him if I was dressed. He was wearing clothes, after all, a short-sleeved shirt, maybe linen, and shorts with a belt of the same material. He reminded me of boys in pictures from the forties.
I could wear clothes in Blue Jungle Land if I wanted. Jim didn't get to make all the decisions about what went on in here. We were partners now and were sharing this version of the spirit plane; I wasn't a hijacked visitor anymore.
I imagined myself dressed in a loud pair of Bermuda shorts, ones that would have left Jim wincing, and felt the fabric form against my body. I'd dreamed up bright purple ones splashed with light green palm trees and yellow pineapples, and they came down almost to my knees. It should work.
William had appeared as a kid. Maybe leaving him a gift that a little boy would like might be the next step towards having a dialogue with him.
Eying the jungle vegetation, I found something I could work with so I hiked over to an area overrun with bamboo. Some of the tall spikes were as thick as my wrist, but I needed something more the size of my finger. I took my knife out of my pocket and opened it. William might be close enough to hear me, so I decided to explain what I was doing. Scaring him further by bringing out a weapon was the last thing I wanted to accomplish.
“Hey, William. This is my pocket knife that I'm using. It's a real Swiss Army knife, and I was given it for my Bar-Mitzvah when I was thirteen. I'm using it as a tool and not a weapon. Watch what I can make with it.”
Hacking loose a length of bamboo, I set about making my gift. It didn't take too long to assemble the cut pieces together. I used the knife to scrape some resin from a nearby gumbo-limbo tree, the distinctive red bark making it easy to locate. The resin glued together my little present, and then I made a second one for my own use.
I didn't see the weasel, but I felt sure William's spirit guide was watching as I sat quietly on the ground, cross-legged and patient, using the time while my small offering dried to meditate.
I dropped into delta waves and allowed myself to focus on William and his spirit guide. Weasel medicine. Those in tune with the weasel did not do things halfheartedly. William had built an impressive business, one that had brought him a lot of wealth. Weasels tended to take more than they needed to, in terms of food, and stockpiled it. Jim and Steven were still astounded at William's bequests to them and Sally. Weasels also were cunning and stealthy. Well, I hadn't sensed that William was my enemy, nor had Jim. William had managed to disrupt my life so much. Until he had almost succeeded in killing me, I hadn't had a clue that he considered me such a problem.
Fierceness was another attribute of weasel medicine. And William had been fierce in wanting to protect Jim, although he was seriously misguided. On a hopeful note, if I could get to the bottom of what had happened when he was a little guy and help him process it, instead of just over-reacting to it, maybe he'd gain the insight he needed to be able to let go and pass into the light. Weasel medicine exhibited the ability to access deep internal intuition, it was said.
It was part of my wolf spiritual nature to want to protect my family, my community. To teach, to help others understand their spiritual sides. And to go with my gut, my instincts. Lord knows, I'd been doing that with Jim from day one.
I ended my meditation and did some Yoga stretches to warm my muscles until I was ready to try communicating with William. Picking up the small bamboo slide whistle I'd made for him, I lifted it to my lips, gently blowing into the mouthpiece and manipulating the slider to make the tone change pitch from low to high and back down again.
It was kind of addicting to play with it. I stopped, though, because I sensed I needed to get back to my body soon. Lifting up my own whistle, I blew in it to make sure it was working. I put it into my pocket, where it jostled against my pocket knife as I walked to a fallen log and laid down William's present.
Then I strolled back to the little pool; once there I removed my shorts and threw them over a tree branch before sliding into the cool water. I floated and closed my eyes, and felt the changes that told me I was returning to my physical self.
I opened my eyes and saw Jim looking at me, raised up on one elbow, the covers thrown off of us.
It was pre-dawn, judging by the dim light filtering through the skylight. I'd have to leave very soon, and I glanced at the alarm clock to confirm the time.
“Hey, Jim, it's too early for you to be up. Go back to sleep.”
He let his fingers tweak my nipples and then trail down my belly, before brushing purposefully at my dick.
“Much as I'd love to just lie back and let those magic fingers of yours do their thing, I don't have time.”
Pouting was an interesting look on Jim.
I smiled ruefully at him and climbed over his body, missing him already. “I'll cash in my rain check when I get back on Wednesday, okay?”
“Deal,” Jim said.
Jim got up, too, and swatted me on the ass as I stretched. It caught me a little by surprise, and I turned around.
“Um, just checking, Jim. Was that swat intended to send a message?”
Jim looked a little confused. “A message? No, well, just that you've got a cute butt, Chief, and I'm going to miss it, er, you. Why'd you say that?”
Jim didn't look conflicted or possessive. Not like he had when he used to give me a farewell tap on my ass before I'd leave to go work at The Meeting Place.
“Okay, I can see it isn't anything, but I just wondered for a moment, you know?”
Jim rubbed his temples with both hands. “I'm going to need coffee before deciphering what's going on in your head.”
“Hey. My head isn't that much of a mystery.”
Jim snorted. “It's cute that you think that. Hit the shower and I'll be in the kitchen and we'll talk then, okay?
“Okay.”
“I'll make you some coffee to take with you, too, for the road.”
“Sweet. Make it strong, I'm going to need it.”
xxx
I dressed quickly, still drying my hair as I walked into the kitchen. I'd been thinking while I was in the shower about how to explain myself to Jim without pissing him off. I almost wished I'd just kept my mouth shut, but that was how we got into trouble before and what allowed us to build on assumptions until our relationship crumbled under the weight of them.
Jim was in his bathrobe, his hair endearingly messy, and as I slid into my seat he poured me a large mug of java and set it down on the table. I was going to just pitch my towel towards the bathroom and pick it up later, but he caught my arm before I could let fly.
“Ohhhh, no you don't. Give it here.”
I surrendered the wet towel and Jim placed it on the counter and sat down opposite me with his own large mug of coffee.
Jim said, “Okay, talk. No, I'll go first. I was just screwing around when I gave you that love-tap on your butt. Why did you get that look on your face and say what you did?”
I fortified myself with a long swallow of excellent coffee. Trust a sentinel to make it just right. What a barista Jim would have made. Jim gave me a look when I didn't answer him.
“Chief, I didn't even swat you hard enough to make it sting. Did I make you feel like a little kid or something? I told you back in that cabin, when we had the rocking chair thing going on, that I don't see you as childish.”
Jim looked pointedly at the kitchen clock and I stopped stalling.
“No, It didn't make me feel like a kid. I probably was feeling a little oversensitive when I told you that, on our epic trip back to Cascade.”
Jim shrugged. “You were sick as a dog, Chief. And I had just rocked you in my lap.”
“You comforted me, and I needed that. But what I kind of flashed back to was all those times when I left to go work at The Meeting Place, and you would swat me before I walked out the door. Those did sting. A lot. You weren't screwing around back then; you were telling me nonverbally that you had a claim on me and not to forget it when I was flirting with a customer.”
“I was a jerk.”
“You were angry and afraid we were going to fall apart,” I said gently.
“Yeah.”
“So, just for a moment, when you swatted me, I thought maybe you were saying that again. But after I said it, I knew this time it was different. I know you were just playing with me. And you know, maybe for my upcoming birthday I'll let you spank me before we have sex. Could be a lot of fun, really sensitize my ass first so when you touch me I'll be extra tingly.”
Jim frowned. “Entertaining as the thought of you over my lap getting spanked is, I don't want this conversation to be derailed. For the record, I'm okay with you leaving today and going to work. I'm not sending any secret messages by way of your butt.”
I grinned at him and drank more coffee.
Jim pointed a finger at me. “You did nail my motivations about smacking you on the ass when you would leave for that dive, I'll give you that, but I'm not going to start up again. I have a problem, or if you have a problem, we hash it out. Them's the rules, Baby Driver.”
I laughed outright, and Jim grinned back. He said, “You've got time for breakfast, if we hurry. You cook, and I'll find our old thermos.”
He dug out our stakeout thermos from the cupboard and filled it up with coffee while I scrambled some eggs and threw a couple of bagels in the toaster.
In between bites of my breakfast, I filled Jim in on my encounter with William in Blue Jungle Land.
He was quiet, thoughtful, until after I'd explained how I'd left William-the-child a toy as a gesture of good will.
“You're good with kids, so maybe you can get him to open up. Blair, do you think he was sexually abused as a kid?”
“I don't know if he was hurt that way or not, but somebody really did a number on him.”
“Could that be why he became so adamantly against same-sex relationships? Well, I'm guessing he felt the same way about two women loving each other as he did two men. I don't really know for sure, though.”
I rose from the table and gave Jim's shoulder a squeeze. “Why don't you try traveling to the spirit plane, see if you can get anywhere with him.”
“He might just run away again. And to be honest, I'm still pretty angry about what he did to you and I don't think my jaguar roaring at him is going to help with the whole building up trust thing you've started.”
“Well then, you've just set yourself a goal, haven't you?”
He tilted his head, questioning me.
“Jim, you're going to have to work through those feelings of anger. William needs our forgiveness, I think. And you're also still angry at him for killing himself. He chose to leave you and I know that hit you way below the belt.”
Jim sighed.
I moved closer and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “You know, my counselor has been helpful, maybe you should think about seeing someone.”
Making a face, he said, “I really don't want to go and spill my guts to a stranger.”
I nodded. Professional counseling didn't click with everybody. “Okay, what do you think would help you deal?”
“Maybe talk to Simon. He's always been a good sounding board for me.”
“He won't let you get away with any crap, you know, if you ask him for his opinions.”
“I know. Probably what I need. And you, Chief. You help me more than anything. Some of this is just going to take time, I think. We can keep Dad's house off the market for a while longer. And I'll try to get over being so pissed at the man. If I knew more about his reasons for going after you, maybe it would make a difference.”
“We can talk tonight on my downtime. And I've got to slide on out of here.” I scooted over to the coat rack and put on my jacket, grabbed my car keys, and picked up my already packed backpack. Jim grabbed the thermos and kissed me at the door before giving it to me.
“Drive safely, Chief.”
“Ditto.”
And I hauled ass out the door.
Xxx
The incessant ringing of my cell phone finally roused me from the deep sleep I'd been in, and I rolled off the bunk at the back of the truck cab and staggered back into my seat. I fumbled around till I finally found my blasted phone and yawned as I answered it with a sleepy hello. It was dark out, so I'd been asleep for quite a while.
“Blair?”
I was startled when I heard Dave's voice. I hadn't talked to him since the week after William died and Dave had called to give his condolences.
Glancing at the dashboard clock, I saw that it was almost ten o'clock, and that my downtime would be over in about forty-five minutes. Just enough time for me to grab a shower and some food from the Pilot truck stop I'd parked at to get some sleep. My next stop was Phoenix and then I was heading back to Cascade.
“Dave, man, what's up? You working the night shift again?”
“I am this week. I called the house first and Jim said that you'd gone back to drivin' for awhile. How's that workin' out?”
Driving is one of my fall-back skills, one that's served me well in the past, and even was useful in one of Jim's former cases. There are things I don't like about it, of course. There's pressure to make good time, and it can be dangerous. People can be idiots when they get behind the wheel of a vehicle. Of course, riding shotgun with Jim has had its moments, too.
I'd made money for the last three months since Henri's great-uncle had hired me. I'd funneled a lot of it into paying off my loans and helped pay my share of the household bills. Jim was okay while I was gone, no zones, but he'd had to turn his senses down to almost a mundane level. It was what he'd done before when I had left him. Still, it wasn't a good solution for long. It was like tying his hands behind his back and blindfolding him, then telling him to do his job.
I stretched and answered Dave. “Driving's working out okay. It pays the bills, and I see some pretty scenery at times.”
“Where are you?”
“I'm south of San Diego right now and saw some fantastic views of the ocean from Interstate 5 earlier today.”
“You gonna keep on drivin', then?”
“Oh, no. I'm not going to drive forever. I've been doing some job hunting the last couple of months. A good offer will turn up eventually, although I admit I'm getting kind of antsy about when I'll find something in my field.” I turned the phone away from my mouth so Dave wouldn't hear me yawning again.
I did feel like I was back in limbo. Since I'd been driving again, I hadn't had an offer for a professional job in my field, although I'd had a handful of interviews. Some of my interviewers told me in so many words that I was overqualified. I got the impression that they didn't think I'd stick around very long if I was hired, and they didn't want to invest their time in training me only to see me hand in my resignation when something “more suitable” came along. I was pretty sure that all the publicity from the diss, William's suicide, and the fascination the local press had developed for Jim's and my relationship had tanked a few others. There was something in people's voices that told me I was a hot potato to them, and they were concerned about guilt by association. It went without saying that any academic job hunting was doomed; I didn't even try. I could probably get a job as a substitute teacher, maybe even supplement it with school bus driving, but the pay was lousy. Maybe when I was caught up with my loans, I'd check into it. I'd enjoy teaching again. But while the qualifications for being a sub weren't too stringent, I doubted I could get a waiver to teach my own classes.
So until I could find a better job, I'd keep to the highways.
A semi rumbled slowly past me, and I spoke louder. “So, Dave, is this an official call? Is it about those two jackasses who you caught trying to take a hit out on me? Or something else?”
“I wanted to talk to you about somethin', but first, those two are still in prison for their parole violations and not likely to get out this time. They never did come up with anything else about the man who hired them. What about the case on y'all's end? Did you find out who Jim's dad had contacted to kill you?”
“Nope. William didn't leave anything on his computer or in his records that points a finger at anybody, so no leads there. He had contracted with a few private investigators to do surveillance on me, electronic and in person. Jim and I figure that was how William had known how to get in touch with some of my employers. You remember? William sent them letters saying I was under investigation for fraud.”
“I remember he accused you of bein' a sex offender, too,” Dave said.
“Yeah. I was more upset about that, I think, then about the fraud stuff.”
I picked up my coffee cup, smelled the last two inches in it and made a face. Ugh. Time for some fresh java.
“What did the cops find out about the private eyes?”
“They're satisfied that they weren't involved in anything more than keeping an eye on me for William.”
“So another dead-end?”
“Yeah. Also, one of the goons who came to William's house to drag my supposedly dead carcass away and survived getting shot was questioned pretty thoroughly.”
“He cooperate?”
“Nope. The DA offered him a deal if he'd rat out his boss, but he kept his mouth shut. He was sentenced to fifteen years in prison for shooting at police officers. Jim checked into his associates, but apparently he free-lanced as muscle for a lot of people, so the trail's pretty muddy. The other guy died, if you remember, and nothing much came from checking out his background.”
“So not much progress.”
“Not really. Jim's pissed about it. He's not the lead detective, but he checks things out just the same.”
“Well, I'm sorry to hear that things have been stalled. And you? You're back to feelin' pretty good, I reckon, or you wouldn't be drivin', right?”
I laughed. “Hey, I'm great, although it took me a while to really get over the mono and, uh, well, you know, being poisoned and shot. My leg's all right, though. I even put back on a few pounds; all muscle, I'll have you know. Anyway, enough about me and Jim. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Well, I sure hope so. Seems that I might have met a kid that's like Jim.”
I made interested noises, and he went on.
“This twelve-year-old kid called the police one night, said she'd heard an old man wandering around in the woods and thought he needed help. Her mama was at work at the truck stop on I-40, and the girl was under strict orders to not leave the house. Besides, she's not foolish enough to start wandering through the woods by herself at night.”
“Sounds like she's got a lot of common sense.”
“She does. Well, me and Harlan responded to the call. We drove close to where she said he was in the woods. We listened and didn't hear anything except the usual woods noises, coyotes and owls and such-like - but she was insistent and repeated to us what she said the old man was a-sayin'. He was callin' out for someone named Flora. Harlan thought she was makin' it all up, but I remembered how Jim was able to hear talk when by all rights he shouldn't have, and I called Maddie. You remember her?”
I stretched again, thinking back. “Um, at the hospital?”
“She was the nurse who treated you at the ER when you was sick. I asked if she knew anybody name of Flora who might be caretakin' an old man.”
“Sure, I remember her. Say hi to her from me, okay?”
“I'll pass that along. Well, Maddie knows everythin' that goes on in Sweetwater and out in the county, too. She come up with the name Flora Anderson. Her husband's grandpa from Nashville had moved in with them and was in the first stages of Alzheimer’s. So I called Miss Flora and she went and looked and turned out Grandpa Ezra was missin'. We got together a search party and I called Kathleen's mama and she gave permission for the girl to help us look for the old gentleman.”
“She found him, didn't she? How far away was he?”
“A mile and a half, and she led me and Harlan right to him. He'd wandered a good four miles away from his house. I asked her if she'd always had such good hearin', but she said no. It'd started up about a month earlier.”
“When I was searching for a sentinel to study, I tested hundreds of people with one or two enhanced senses. Kathleen might fall into that population.”
“She's got sharp eyes, too, I've noticed. I haven't said much to her, except to thank her for her help and ask if she was having any trouble with her senses. She told me sometimes things sound so loud to her that it makes her ears hurt and things taste funny. She also gets rashes a lot, but she's been tested for allergies and she's not allergic to anything. I told her and her mama I might be able to get somebody who knows about these things to talk to her, let her know if there was anything that might help her.”
“Sure. I can send you some material for her mother to look over. I don't have as much data on women sentinels but I've got a hunch that maybe her sentinel senses were latent and became activated when she started puberty. She has started it, hasn't she?”
“Looks to me that she has. Do you ever drive out this way, Blair?”
“Not yet, but my boss said he'll need me to do some cross-country runs soon since one of the other drivers is going to be out for a while.”
“I-40's not that far away from Sweetwater. We could meet you at a truck stop, if you're driving that way.”
“I wonder if she's met a guide. A sentinel and guide relationship doesn't have to be like mine and Jim's. Jim probably had a couple of guides before me. Possibly a football coach who gave him a lot of support, and then I wonder if anybody from his Ranger unit might have been one. A shaman helped guide him when he was in Peru.”
“Reckon you're his last guide, though.”
“Man, you reckon right. Hey, I'll call you if it turns out I'm routed east on I-40. If Kathleen's mother agrees, I'd be happy to meet the two of them, maybe do a few simple tests.”
“I appreciate it, Blair. You take care now.”
I said goodbye and called Jim before he went to bed. We talked about Dave's information - Jim had told him to talk to me about the sentinel stuff, since I was the expert - then I regretfully ended the call by telling him I loved him and to sleep well. Jim had admitted he'd used a bag with my lightly worn clothes in it to breathe in some of my scent this afternoon at a crime scene. He kept a bag in the truck and one at the loft, in case he needed to reground himself. I wished I was home and could wrap my arms around him, pull him down to scent my neck. Ah, well. Wishes, horses, beggars.
I went inside the truck stop to get my shower and a large cup of coffee before I headed for Phoenix.
Xxx
I flicked my lights to let the pickup in front of me know I was going to pass him. I'd driven for almost three hours since leaving the truck stop and the lights of Yuma were before me.
When I'm driving on a night like this, on the interstate or a two-lane blacktop, I'm always fascinated by the shining trails of brilliant headlights and the dimmer gleam of red taillights. I love how cities and towns are illuminated into a kind of magical space by webs of lights as you see them from a distance. They cast a surreal spell over me as I roll down the highway, and I'll spend hours just thinking about what's important to me.
Sometimes I think my life is surreal. I'm a guide to a sentinel. That never stops being amazing, that I found Jim, and the years when I was his work-partner had been so fulfilling to me. Realistically, I couldn't have kept on being his ride-along observer. Somebody further up than Simon would have eventually ended it. As for being a regular cop, I'd have stuck it out, so that I could make detective and really be partnered with Jim. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of that happening in Cascade, not now. I didn't think it was much of a viable plan in any other city - just too many obstacles without the help of someone like Simon greasing the wheels.
Jim could go into private security or become a P.I. We could present ourselves as a team. I've got skills that would fit that kind of work. Except... Jim really did believe in the “Protect and Serve” motto, and the kind of work security entailed wouldn't be the same. He'd be a hell of a bodyguard, but if he didn't respect his employer, or they didn't respect him, he wouldn't like it. Jim and ass-kissing (except for mine) have never been very compatible. And a lot of private detective work is getting nosy about distasteful stuff, like catching a wife or husband cheating on their spouse. Jim wouldn't care for that, and I expected that aspect was bread and butter for a P.I.
Jim could just chuck it and live on what William left him, if he was frugal, but I didn't see him being happy without a purpose for his life. He liked being a cop. He felt satisfied solving crimes and taking criminals off the streets. He might feel compassion for them - Nathan Bergman came to mind - but he stood for the victims.
I finished passing the old truck, an ancient Ford, and felt nostalgic for a moment for Sweetheart. We'd had such adventures in the old girl.
Jim kept assuring me that he hadn't regretted trading her in for the truck we'd driven from Tennessee to Cascade. He hadn't kept that one, though. He'd traded it for another Ford, a blue and brown F series 82 Super-cab with four-wheel drive and a bench seat in the extended cab. I figured I'd be back there if Simon, Jim, and I went fishing again. No way would Simon fit and Jim would be uncomfortable, too. Really, that back seat was meant more for kids or dogs. I didn't really understand why Jim had gone for it, but then we'd made a truce regarding our vehicles. I didn't diss his truck, and he didn't shake his head too much about my fixer-upper AMC Marlin.
I usually thought a lot about Jim and me as I drove to San Francisco or San Diego or Billings or the other cities I delivered to, reflecting on the mistakes we'd made and how good it was between us now. Friends and lovers, and our auras reflected the happiness we had with each other.
Jim and I were fine, but Jim was still angry with his father. He felt that his father had betrayed him. He was trying to come to peace with himself about it through a combination of running things by Simon, talking to me at home or when I was on my downtime, and putting a lot of effort into hitting the bag at the gym.
Jim and Steven were spending more time together, and in their case their father's death had drawn them closer. That was something to be thankful for, because we'd all seen the opposite happen when a death shattered a family so badly that there was no coming back to healthy relationships between the survivors.
We'd all agreed to put a hold on trying to make William's ghost appear at his house, at least while I felt I was making some progress with gaining William's trust in the spirit plane.
That whole aspect was something that felt both surreal and perfectly natural to me, that I was doing the work of a shaman and accessing the spirit plane. I was awed that I'd had the experiences I had with seeing my own spirit guide and Jim's. I accepted that I had a calling to be shaman, and as a shaman, even a mostly untrained one, I felt a responsibility to help William's spirit gain peace and pass onwards.
William slowly had begun to relate to me, on my trips back to the spirit plane. I would travel to Blue Jungle Land from my dreams, or when I had the time to meditate, I would send myself there. Each time I would hear him crying, and I would go to the pool and dress in my Bermuda shorts and set out to find him. I would stop when I felt I was fairly close by, and blow on my whistle, making goofy sounds.
At first he would keep crying and as I walked up to him he would change again into the weasel and run off.
After a time, though, he altered his MO. He'd shift into his spirit guide and scamper a little ways away, just out of sight. I could tell when he would change back to human form. I'd play my whistle; he'd offer a counter melody from his whistle, although neither one of us were going to win any music awards. Jim would have plugged up his ears if he'd been there, but Jim was blocking himself from traveling to the spirit plane to make peace with his father.
I'd make it home by Friday and once there, I resolved to have a serious talk with Jim about William. I kept feeling that if William didn't go into the light soon, he might be trapped on this plane forever.
xxx
I shut off the car engine and just slid down a little in the seat. Marlins at least were made for comfort, and I was so tired.+ I could just shut my eyes and nod off. I wouldn't, though. Jim was waiting for me, and when I'd last talked to him, he'd said he'd feed me when I showed up. That sounded great. I wasn't sure what I'd go for first - shower, food, and sex or... food, shower, and sex. The sex would have to be on the low energy side; maybe I'd give Jim a nice blow job.
I'd gotten a parking spot fairly close to the loft. A few minutes of walking and then I'd be home. Once I actually left the car, that is. I would just close my eyes for a few seconds - have the shortest power nap in history.
I was startled awake by the door opening and then Jim was leaning over me, undoing my seat belt.
“C'mon, Blair. There's a bed waiting for you and I made a pot of beef soup. And buddy, you need to get those brakes replaced. I could hear them squealing all down Prospect.”
“Jim... sorry... Jus' closed my eyes for a moment.” I turned in my seat and grabbed my backpack from the back seat. “Brakes... yeah. I know. I can afford it after my next paycheck. Got to take care of my baby, after all.”
Jim snorted and held out his hand. I took it and levered myself out of the car and into his arms for a welcome home hug.
He kissed me, practically lifting me up against him, and suddenly I rearranged my to-do list. Sex, then food, then shower. I had a plan.
With reluctance, we pushed away from each other, and I smiled at him ruefully. “How long have I been out here?”
“Not long. I was listening and when I heard you snoring I figured I'd better come and get you.”
“You're making that up. I don't snore.”
“Keep telling yourself that, babe. Denial is a good look on you.”
I swatted Jim with my backpack and he laughed all the way down the street.
Xxx
I explained about my plan after dropping my backpack on the couch, but Jim squashed it. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and smiled knowlingly at me.
“Chief, you'll nod off after I make you come. You're practically asleep on your feet as it is. Go take a shower, and wake up a little, then eat.”
I mock-scowled at him while I took the hair tie out of my hair and ran my hands through it. Ulterior motives, man. I knew Jim liked my hair loose. “For delaying my gratification I should get twice the reward.”
Jim pretended to ponder that, but one side of his mouth kept wanting to turn up, giving his amusement away.
“I see your point. So here's what's going to happen. You get good and clean - inside and out - we'll eat, and then I'm taking you to bed and giving you a blow job.”
“Sweet.”
“And when you're lying there, all sleepy and comfortable, I'm going to roll you over, tuck a pillow under your hips and fuck you till you come again. You get two gold stars, okay?”
For an answer I walked over to him, and slid my arms around his waist. I'd missed touching him, and I wanted an appetizer before I did as he asked and went to take a shower.
Jim's smug smile returned. Well, maybe it had something to do with how I'd moved my hands till they were cupping his ass.
“I'm just gonna lie there and take it, is that right?”
“That's the plan.”
“Let you shatter me to pieces, make me see stars? I'm down with that. For later. Right now, though, I feel like being greedy. I've been thinking about this for days while driving down Interstate 5, picturing this moment.”
“Chief?”
I unbuttoned his jeans, slid down his zipper. “Did you jerk off while I was gone, Jim? I didn't. I saved it up for you. And now... Man, my skin feels too tight, know what I mean? Got that feeling in my gut, that heavy, delicious feeling, and my hands, man, they want to roam free. Touch you wherever I want, watch your skin flush, breathe on your dick, feel your hands in my hair...”
I'd gone to my knees, and freed his dick. I stopped talking to lick a wet stripe from near his balls to the head. Jim was breathing heavily, and he gripped my hair with one hand and with the other he guided his dick to my lips, touching them, and he rocked his hips forward.
I yanked his jeans down lower. I wanted more room to play, and I stroked his upper thighs, let my fingers dance over his skin, as Jim let out a frustrated sound and tightened his hold on my hair.
His dick was hard and darkening, and I looked up into his eyes and felt powerful, even though I was the one on my knees. I could make Jim Ellison feel like a god.
“Dial it up,” I whispered, and opened my mouth, welcoming him in and myself home.
xxx
Blair was a sensual little fuck. Pushy, too. But since he'd sidetracked me into enjoying one mind-blowing orgasm, I would let it go.
I told him that, after I could talk again. Still on his knees, he glanced up at me, smug. Blair was cute with his hair all tousled from my hands and his lips reddened from sucking on my dick. Still, it was time to get him back on the program.
“Shower, Chief. And don't play around in there. I liked what you said about how your motor's all revved up, and I want to be one to gun the engine.” I pulled him to his feet and he staggered a little.
He did look tired, and I wanted him to be comfortable when I took him up to our bed. I didn't want him to wake up hours later feeling grungy and hungry.
He disappeared into the bathroom, and I reheated the soup. Anymore, my life always felt like I'd put it on pause while Blair was away. When he returned, my senses would feel sharper, brighter. I'd relax in his presence, not realizing how tense I'd become while he was gone for days at a time.
It was frightening in a way, being so entwined with my lover like this. Our connection ran so deep, so strong, that if I lost him it would absolutely break me. I'd never felt such fear as I had during those times when he'd come close to dying. Lash, being poisoned by Golden, the fountain. Seeing his astral body floating over his unresponsive body.
One of Blair's sayings came to mind: Take the bitter with the sweet. I'd opened myself to Blair. If I'd kept myself guarded, like I had when I was married to Carolyn, then I wouldn't feel this absolute rightness at being with him. I'd been miserable the year he was gone, a surly bastard who was bleeding out and didn't even realize he was dying. I was so thankful that we'd worked things out between us. When I was with him now, I felt happy.
I wanted Blair to have everything he desired in life. Me, of course. That one we could cross off the wish list. But he also deserved to have a fulfilling career. Good friends. Colleagues that respected him for his intelligence and his ethics. And there was one more element I thought we should consider.
It would have to be something we both wanted. I'd been thinking about it for the last few months. I still had some doubts, but I'd talked to Simon and he thought I could do it. That meant a lot to me. And if Blair said yes, he would be wonderful at it. But he had enough on his plate right now with my father and finding a job in his field.
It could wait.
xxx
I handed Blair his mail at breakfast the next morning. He'd slept a good eleven hours, and he looked much more rested. I was feeling fine, and my senses were practically humming. Burying myself in Blair's ass usually did have that effect.
Blair finished his last bite of pancake and shoved his plate to the side. He started sorting his mail, muttering, “Junk, junk, bill, bill, bill,” as he placed each letter in the appropriate pile on the table. I grabbed our plates to take to the sink and Blair handed me the junk mail as well.
“Would you dump this stuff into file thirteen? Thanks. Oh, hey.” He held up a pale green envelope and I recognized Naomi's graceful handwriting. “Letter from Mom.”
He opened it and read it quickly, smiling at times. Then he handed it to me to read for myself.
Naomi was well. She wrote that she and Thomas were now in Scotland, and were staying at a bread and breakfast in Mull. They had taken a tour to the Isle of Staffa and seen Fingal's Cave, and in a few days they planned to visit Shien fairy hill. According to Naomi it was a “mystical place of power,” and she planned to meditate there. She and Thomas would be back in the States by the Fourth of July, about seven weeks from now, and she thought she'd come by to see us.
I laid Naomi's letter on the table. “Hey, Chief. Think she'll bring Thomas with her in July? It sounds like they've had a great time traveling together.”
Blair hadn't opened the letter he held in his hand. He shrugged. “Probably not. For Thomas, the time they've spent together has been a vacation. And when a vacation is over, Naomi gets to feeling hemmed in. The world is so big and interesting and there are always new places to travel to and to learn about.”
“Think she'll ever settle down?”
He stared towards the living room windows, but I doubted he was seeing Cascade. He said, “No. And why should she? It's not her thing.”
He looked back at me. “If Thomas wants to keep up with her, she'll stay with him.” He shrugged, a little smile beginning to turn up his lips. “If he decides to remain at home, she'll probably do the detaching with love bit.”
He started turning the letter in his hand over and over. “I'm not like her. I love traveling and seeing new places, too. It's so mondo cool to learn about different peoples' histories and cultures. But I need a home to come back to afterwards. Naomi's like a leaf in the wind. I need roots, man.”
“You know, I promised you a while ago that we'd take a vacation, somewhere with a warm beach. I could take time off; you could ask not to be scheduled for driving for a couple of weeks.”
Blair smiled at me. “Yeah, I remember that promise. It sounds just as good now as it did then. But I think it'll have to wait for a while longer.”
“Why?”
“William needs our help first. I think he's close to trusting me. And Jim, I have this feeling that his time is running out for catching the soul train out of here. Do you think you're ready to face him? He's got unfinished business to take care of before he'll let himself move on.”
Well, that was a good question. I'd been thinking about Dad a lot, but I didn't know if I could tell him I forgave him. Maybe if I knew why he'd hurt Blair, I'd get closure and could tell him that he was forgiven. Maybe.
“I don't know, Chief. If Dad will spill his guts, then maybe I can let the things he did go.”
All this time, Blair had kept playing with the letter in his hand. I pointed at it. “Aren't you going to open that one, or is it more junk mail?”
Blair made a face. “It's from a company that gave me an interview. I know it's going to be another rejection letter, so I was putting off reading it. I should do the rip off the band-aid fast routine and just get it over with.”
I refilled my coffee cup, giving him a moment of privacy to read the bad news.
“Huh. They want me to call and set up a second interview.”
“Which company is this?”
“Dawson Advertising Agency. They're looking for ethnographers to document how a targeted group uses certain products. You do interviews in people's homes, videotape them, analyze the raw data until you've got something to present to the client to beef up their sales. Guess Jack's recommendation letter is being given more weight than the fraud reputation.”
“Is that something that you'd like to do?”
“Well, the interviews and observations would suit me. I guess I really don't care if a product gets sold or not. They're based here in Cascade, but if I get the job there would probably be some traveling.”
“You don't sound too excited.”
“I've still got to get through the next level of interviewing. I don't want to get emotionally invested just yet.”
Blair got up from the table and gathered his mail. He disappeared into his old room, and I heard him dump the letters on his desk.
I glanced at the clock. It was almost ten o'clock. We had time before meeting Beverly later. I'd see if Blair wanted to go to the gym with me in a couple of hours. We could shower there and catch up with her and her friend afterwards for dinner.
I walked into his old room - I'd probably always call it that - and put my hands on the back of his shoulders and kissed him on the side of his neck. I was always greedy to touch him after he'd been away for several days.
I told him that Beverly had called yesterday and invited us out for pizza and beer, her treat. She was bringing another guest, someone who'd been with her at a three-day conference north of us in Bellingham, and she was going to show him around Cascade for the weekend.
He agreed readily. Then he turned around and hugged me. He stepped back and looked at me assessingly.
“I want to meditate for a while. Would you try to meditate with me? Travel to the spirit plan to talk to William?”
I hesitated. Was I calmed down enough to meet my father again and not blow up at him? I might be. Blair read the indecision on my face and took my hands, then he tilted his head and I knew he was reading my aura.
“What's the verdict, Doc?”
“I think you're getting there, Jim.”
“Clear as mud, Chief. Getting where?”
“To where you're able to forgive your father. He made a mistake, a horrible mistake in taking his life, but he was confused, panicked.”
“I get that. But he made a campaign out of harassing you.”
“What he did to me was wrong, and I'm not making excuses for him. But, you know, I've struggled with understanding myself and the way I think about things based on being abused as a kid. Or did think. I hope that I'm catching myself now and not falling into making the same mistakes again. The ways I've fucked up in the past do make me have empathy for William. I hear him crying when I'm in Blue Jungle Land and I know he's conflicted--”
“And miserable.”
“Yeah,” Blair said. “I don't think he had anybody to help him through whatever trauma he experienced as a child. I hope we can help him now. I feel in my gut that his time is running out for passing on.”
I didn't want my father to stay an earth-bound ghost.
This wasn't the first time Blair had mentioned that he thought Dad's hourglass was almost out of sand. Blair was a shaman, and I'd learned that you didn't blow off what a shaman told you.
Blair had done a ceremony for me on the way back to Cascade. He'd taken from me the black energy that darkened and damaged my soul and he'd given me his own energy to fill the empty places that were left. That was an extraction, a shamanic practice, and he'd done it with some help from the spirit world and because he'd accepted the calling to be a shaman. Blair had skills in dealing with the spirit world as much as he had talents for doing so many other things.
I'd come out of that ceremony feeling lighter, more able to appreciate the good things in my life. It had taken a while for me to really understand how I'd changed for the better. I didn't want to return to being the way I was before Blair had helped me.
I could choose to keep feeling angry with Dad, keep stoking that fire, but it would damage my soul. Letting my rage towards Dad go would help me as much as it would free him.
I tugged Blair to me and kissed him. “I'm working on forgiving him, but I feel like I need to move. I think I'll go for a run while you meditate. Want to go to the gym afterwards, then meet up with Bev?”
“Sure. Gee, I haven't seen Bev in a while. Not since Bergman's trial. It'll be good to catch up. And Jim, when you're thinking about your dad, remember that he loved you, okay?”
I nodded, a lump in my throat suddenly. He had loved me. We'd reconnected finally, but all the years we'd been estranged were such a waste.
Blair hugged me again, in tune to the shift in my feelings, I supposed. I dropped a kiss on the top of his head and took a deep breath. “Tell Dad, if you talk to him, that I miss him.”
“I will. Have a good run.” He moved away from me and I put on my running shoes. I stood by the door and just watched Blair for a few moments as he arranged the living room to his satisfaction.
I left when he sat down in the middle of a ring of lit candles.
xxx
Cont'd on next post due to size of the chapter. Part Two
Fandom The Sentinel
Author: Laurie
Type: Slash
Rating: PG-17 (for the series)
Word count: 12393 words
Warnings: Link to warnings for the entire series
Written for Sentinel Thursday Challenge 157: Contact
Beta’ed by t_verano. We're coming to the end of this story and you've been such a huge part of it. Thank you.
Summary for A Fair Distance: A year after Blair left Jim, and Cascade, they meet again in a small Tennessee town. Blair's been arrested and is being held for questioning at the request of the Cascade PD.
This is the third and final arc to the story, and the two earlier arcs, A Fair Distance:Running on Empty and A Fair Distance: Ball and Chain, as well as several time stamps, can be located at my LJ here or at Artifact Storage Room 3 here or at AO3 here. I believe that AO3 has a nifty feature that allows you to download onto E-readers.
The weekend after William manifested to Jim was the first time I heard the crying.
I'd gone to sleep early on Sunday night because of my crack-of-dawn roll-out time Monday morning from the loading dock on Wharf St. I'd curled up next to Jim, who'd gone to bed with me but who was reading a book in our darkened bedroom instead of sleeping. Sometime between sleep cycles, though, I wandered back into Jim's blue-tinted dreamscape, the jungle he'd constructed that resembled the rainforests of Peru.
These days Blue Jungle Land was sunny and welcoming. I had no desire to hide or run as I'd once had when I'd been drawn into this spirit plane against my will. When the spirit plane had let me return to the mundane, material plane of existence, I hadn't even remembered my frantic scrambling through the tangled bush or feeling so lost and desolate from the destruction of my pitiful hiding places. Not until I'd return again and remember how terrified I was of the jaguar who kept seeking me out.
Things were so different now and I was calm and observant as I wandered down paths through the brush or up hills.
I was myself, not immersed with my spirit guide, either in human or wolf form. I was sitting by the little pool I'd grown so fond of, my bare legs dangling in the cool water, when I first heard heartbroken sobbing. It sounded far away and it disturbed me.
I was sure it was a child crying, and I went to find that unhappy soul, hoping I could offer some comfort.
After walking for a time, I came close enough to those pitiful sounds to glimpse a small, fair-haired boy, all curled in on himself as he lay there on the ground, sobbing his little heart out. He sat up suddenly, teary-eyed, and when he saw me he looked scared and in a flash changed into a weasel and scampered away.
I knew even before I saw the form of the spirit guide that it was William who was crying.
He'd chosen to retreat to a child's form, and from the way he was sobbing, I expected whatever he was upset about was the origin for his aversion to Jim having a relationship with another man. After all, this was the spirit plane and everything had meaning here. I pondered what to do to build trust with him, so that he would talk to me.
I glanced down at myself and wondered if me being naked might have spooked him. This was Jim's dreamscape and Jim had always pictured me sans clothing, so that's how I appeared. But William had looked to be a boy of about nine or ten, and it might be easier on him if I was dressed. He was wearing clothes, after all, a short-sleeved shirt, maybe linen, and shorts with a belt of the same material. He reminded me of boys in pictures from the forties.
I could wear clothes in Blue Jungle Land if I wanted. Jim didn't get to make all the decisions about what went on in here. We were partners now and were sharing this version of the spirit plane; I wasn't a hijacked visitor anymore.
I imagined myself dressed in a loud pair of Bermuda shorts, ones that would have left Jim wincing, and felt the fabric form against my body. I'd dreamed up bright purple ones splashed with light green palm trees and yellow pineapples, and they came down almost to my knees. It should work.
William had appeared as a kid. Maybe leaving him a gift that a little boy would like might be the next step towards having a dialogue with him.
Eying the jungle vegetation, I found something I could work with so I hiked over to an area overrun with bamboo. Some of the tall spikes were as thick as my wrist, but I needed something more the size of my finger. I took my knife out of my pocket and opened it. William might be close enough to hear me, so I decided to explain what I was doing. Scaring him further by bringing out a weapon was the last thing I wanted to accomplish.
“Hey, William. This is my pocket knife that I'm using. It's a real Swiss Army knife, and I was given it for my Bar-Mitzvah when I was thirteen. I'm using it as a tool and not a weapon. Watch what I can make with it.”
Hacking loose a length of bamboo, I set about making my gift. It didn't take too long to assemble the cut pieces together. I used the knife to scrape some resin from a nearby gumbo-limbo tree, the distinctive red bark making it easy to locate. The resin glued together my little present, and then I made a second one for my own use.
I didn't see the weasel, but I felt sure William's spirit guide was watching as I sat quietly on the ground, cross-legged and patient, using the time while my small offering dried to meditate.
I dropped into delta waves and allowed myself to focus on William and his spirit guide. Weasel medicine. Those in tune with the weasel did not do things halfheartedly. William had built an impressive business, one that had brought him a lot of wealth. Weasels tended to take more than they needed to, in terms of food, and stockpiled it. Jim and Steven were still astounded at William's bequests to them and Sally. Weasels also were cunning and stealthy. Well, I hadn't sensed that William was my enemy, nor had Jim. William had managed to disrupt my life so much. Until he had almost succeeded in killing me, I hadn't had a clue that he considered me such a problem.
Fierceness was another attribute of weasel medicine. And William had been fierce in wanting to protect Jim, although he was seriously misguided. On a hopeful note, if I could get to the bottom of what had happened when he was a little guy and help him process it, instead of just over-reacting to it, maybe he'd gain the insight he needed to be able to let go and pass into the light. Weasel medicine exhibited the ability to access deep internal intuition, it was said.
It was part of my wolf spiritual nature to want to protect my family, my community. To teach, to help others understand their spiritual sides. And to go with my gut, my instincts. Lord knows, I'd been doing that with Jim from day one.
I ended my meditation and did some Yoga stretches to warm my muscles until I was ready to try communicating with William. Picking up the small bamboo slide whistle I'd made for him, I lifted it to my lips, gently blowing into the mouthpiece and manipulating the slider to make the tone change pitch from low to high and back down again.
It was kind of addicting to play with it. I stopped, though, because I sensed I needed to get back to my body soon. Lifting up my own whistle, I blew in it to make sure it was working. I put it into my pocket, where it jostled against my pocket knife as I walked to a fallen log and laid down William's present.
Then I strolled back to the little pool; once there I removed my shorts and threw them over a tree branch before sliding into the cool water. I floated and closed my eyes, and felt the changes that told me I was returning to my physical self.
I opened my eyes and saw Jim looking at me, raised up on one elbow, the covers thrown off of us.
It was pre-dawn, judging by the dim light filtering through the skylight. I'd have to leave very soon, and I glanced at the alarm clock to confirm the time.
“Hey, Jim, it's too early for you to be up. Go back to sleep.”
He let his fingers tweak my nipples and then trail down my belly, before brushing purposefully at my dick.
“Much as I'd love to just lie back and let those magic fingers of yours do their thing, I don't have time.”
Pouting was an interesting look on Jim.
I smiled ruefully at him and climbed over his body, missing him already. “I'll cash in my rain check when I get back on Wednesday, okay?”
“Deal,” Jim said.
Jim got up, too, and swatted me on the ass as I stretched. It caught me a little by surprise, and I turned around.
“Um, just checking, Jim. Was that swat intended to send a message?”
Jim looked a little confused. “A message? No, well, just that you've got a cute butt, Chief, and I'm going to miss it, er, you. Why'd you say that?”
Jim didn't look conflicted or possessive. Not like he had when he used to give me a farewell tap on my ass before I'd leave to go work at The Meeting Place.
“Okay, I can see it isn't anything, but I just wondered for a moment, you know?”
Jim rubbed his temples with both hands. “I'm going to need coffee before deciphering what's going on in your head.”
“Hey. My head isn't that much of a mystery.”
Jim snorted. “It's cute that you think that. Hit the shower and I'll be in the kitchen and we'll talk then, okay?
“Okay.”
“I'll make you some coffee to take with you, too, for the road.”
“Sweet. Make it strong, I'm going to need it.”
xxx
I dressed quickly, still drying my hair as I walked into the kitchen. I'd been thinking while I was in the shower about how to explain myself to Jim without pissing him off. I almost wished I'd just kept my mouth shut, but that was how we got into trouble before and what allowed us to build on assumptions until our relationship crumbled under the weight of them.
Jim was in his bathrobe, his hair endearingly messy, and as I slid into my seat he poured me a large mug of java and set it down on the table. I was going to just pitch my towel towards the bathroom and pick it up later, but he caught my arm before I could let fly.
“Ohhhh, no you don't. Give it here.”
I surrendered the wet towel and Jim placed it on the counter and sat down opposite me with his own large mug of coffee.
Jim said, “Okay, talk. No, I'll go first. I was just screwing around when I gave you that love-tap on your butt. Why did you get that look on your face and say what you did?”
I fortified myself with a long swallow of excellent coffee. Trust a sentinel to make it just right. What a barista Jim would have made. Jim gave me a look when I didn't answer him.
“Chief, I didn't even swat you hard enough to make it sting. Did I make you feel like a little kid or something? I told you back in that cabin, when we had the rocking chair thing going on, that I don't see you as childish.”
Jim looked pointedly at the kitchen clock and I stopped stalling.
“No, It didn't make me feel like a kid. I probably was feeling a little oversensitive when I told you that, on our epic trip back to Cascade.”
Jim shrugged. “You were sick as a dog, Chief. And I had just rocked you in my lap.”
“You comforted me, and I needed that. But what I kind of flashed back to was all those times when I left to go work at The Meeting Place, and you would swat me before I walked out the door. Those did sting. A lot. You weren't screwing around back then; you were telling me nonverbally that you had a claim on me and not to forget it when I was flirting with a customer.”
“I was a jerk.”
“You were angry and afraid we were going to fall apart,” I said gently.
“Yeah.”
“So, just for a moment, when you swatted me, I thought maybe you were saying that again. But after I said it, I knew this time it was different. I know you were just playing with me. And you know, maybe for my upcoming birthday I'll let you spank me before we have sex. Could be a lot of fun, really sensitize my ass first so when you touch me I'll be extra tingly.”
Jim frowned. “Entertaining as the thought of you over my lap getting spanked is, I don't want this conversation to be derailed. For the record, I'm okay with you leaving today and going to work. I'm not sending any secret messages by way of your butt.”
I grinned at him and drank more coffee.
Jim pointed a finger at me. “You did nail my motivations about smacking you on the ass when you would leave for that dive, I'll give you that, but I'm not going to start up again. I have a problem, or if you have a problem, we hash it out. Them's the rules, Baby Driver.”
I laughed outright, and Jim grinned back. He said, “You've got time for breakfast, if we hurry. You cook, and I'll find our old thermos.”
He dug out our stakeout thermos from the cupboard and filled it up with coffee while I scrambled some eggs and threw a couple of bagels in the toaster.
In between bites of my breakfast, I filled Jim in on my encounter with William in Blue Jungle Land.
He was quiet, thoughtful, until after I'd explained how I'd left William-the-child a toy as a gesture of good will.
“You're good with kids, so maybe you can get him to open up. Blair, do you think he was sexually abused as a kid?”
“I don't know if he was hurt that way or not, but somebody really did a number on him.”
“Could that be why he became so adamantly against same-sex relationships? Well, I'm guessing he felt the same way about two women loving each other as he did two men. I don't really know for sure, though.”
I rose from the table and gave Jim's shoulder a squeeze. “Why don't you try traveling to the spirit plane, see if you can get anywhere with him.”
“He might just run away again. And to be honest, I'm still pretty angry about what he did to you and I don't think my jaguar roaring at him is going to help with the whole building up trust thing you've started.”
“Well then, you've just set yourself a goal, haven't you?”
He tilted his head, questioning me.
“Jim, you're going to have to work through those feelings of anger. William needs our forgiveness, I think. And you're also still angry at him for killing himself. He chose to leave you and I know that hit you way below the belt.”
Jim sighed.
I moved closer and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “You know, my counselor has been helpful, maybe you should think about seeing someone.”
Making a face, he said, “I really don't want to go and spill my guts to a stranger.”
I nodded. Professional counseling didn't click with everybody. “Okay, what do you think would help you deal?”
“Maybe talk to Simon. He's always been a good sounding board for me.”
“He won't let you get away with any crap, you know, if you ask him for his opinions.”
“I know. Probably what I need. And you, Chief. You help me more than anything. Some of this is just going to take time, I think. We can keep Dad's house off the market for a while longer. And I'll try to get over being so pissed at the man. If I knew more about his reasons for going after you, maybe it would make a difference.”
“We can talk tonight on my downtime. And I've got to slide on out of here.” I scooted over to the coat rack and put on my jacket, grabbed my car keys, and picked up my already packed backpack. Jim grabbed the thermos and kissed me at the door before giving it to me.
“Drive safely, Chief.”
“Ditto.”
And I hauled ass out the door.
Xxx
The incessant ringing of my cell phone finally roused me from the deep sleep I'd been in, and I rolled off the bunk at the back of the truck cab and staggered back into my seat. I fumbled around till I finally found my blasted phone and yawned as I answered it with a sleepy hello. It was dark out, so I'd been asleep for quite a while.
“Blair?”
I was startled when I heard Dave's voice. I hadn't talked to him since the week after William died and Dave had called to give his condolences.
Glancing at the dashboard clock, I saw that it was almost ten o'clock, and that my downtime would be over in about forty-five minutes. Just enough time for me to grab a shower and some food from the Pilot truck stop I'd parked at to get some sleep. My next stop was Phoenix and then I was heading back to Cascade.
“Dave, man, what's up? You working the night shift again?”
“I am this week. I called the house first and Jim said that you'd gone back to drivin' for awhile. How's that workin' out?”
Driving is one of my fall-back skills, one that's served me well in the past, and even was useful in one of Jim's former cases. There are things I don't like about it, of course. There's pressure to make good time, and it can be dangerous. People can be idiots when they get behind the wheel of a vehicle. Of course, riding shotgun with Jim has had its moments, too.
I'd made money for the last three months since Henri's great-uncle had hired me. I'd funneled a lot of it into paying off my loans and helped pay my share of the household bills. Jim was okay while I was gone, no zones, but he'd had to turn his senses down to almost a mundane level. It was what he'd done before when I had left him. Still, it wasn't a good solution for long. It was like tying his hands behind his back and blindfolding him, then telling him to do his job.
I stretched and answered Dave. “Driving's working out okay. It pays the bills, and I see some pretty scenery at times.”
“Where are you?”
“I'm south of San Diego right now and saw some fantastic views of the ocean from Interstate 5 earlier today.”
“You gonna keep on drivin', then?”
“Oh, no. I'm not going to drive forever. I've been doing some job hunting the last couple of months. A good offer will turn up eventually, although I admit I'm getting kind of antsy about when I'll find something in my field.” I turned the phone away from my mouth so Dave wouldn't hear me yawning again.
I did feel like I was back in limbo. Since I'd been driving again, I hadn't had an offer for a professional job in my field, although I'd had a handful of interviews. Some of my interviewers told me in so many words that I was overqualified. I got the impression that they didn't think I'd stick around very long if I was hired, and they didn't want to invest their time in training me only to see me hand in my resignation when something “more suitable” came along. I was pretty sure that all the publicity from the diss, William's suicide, and the fascination the local press had developed for Jim's and my relationship had tanked a few others. There was something in people's voices that told me I was a hot potato to them, and they were concerned about guilt by association. It went without saying that any academic job hunting was doomed; I didn't even try. I could probably get a job as a substitute teacher, maybe even supplement it with school bus driving, but the pay was lousy. Maybe when I was caught up with my loans, I'd check into it. I'd enjoy teaching again. But while the qualifications for being a sub weren't too stringent, I doubted I could get a waiver to teach my own classes.
So until I could find a better job, I'd keep to the highways.
A semi rumbled slowly past me, and I spoke louder. “So, Dave, is this an official call? Is it about those two jackasses who you caught trying to take a hit out on me? Or something else?”
“I wanted to talk to you about somethin', but first, those two are still in prison for their parole violations and not likely to get out this time. They never did come up with anything else about the man who hired them. What about the case on y'all's end? Did you find out who Jim's dad had contacted to kill you?”
“Nope. William didn't leave anything on his computer or in his records that points a finger at anybody, so no leads there. He had contracted with a few private investigators to do surveillance on me, electronic and in person. Jim and I figure that was how William had known how to get in touch with some of my employers. You remember? William sent them letters saying I was under investigation for fraud.”
“I remember he accused you of bein' a sex offender, too,” Dave said.
“Yeah. I was more upset about that, I think, then about the fraud stuff.”
I picked up my coffee cup, smelled the last two inches in it and made a face. Ugh. Time for some fresh java.
“What did the cops find out about the private eyes?”
“They're satisfied that they weren't involved in anything more than keeping an eye on me for William.”
“So another dead-end?”
“Yeah. Also, one of the goons who came to William's house to drag my supposedly dead carcass away and survived getting shot was questioned pretty thoroughly.”
“He cooperate?”
“Nope. The DA offered him a deal if he'd rat out his boss, but he kept his mouth shut. He was sentenced to fifteen years in prison for shooting at police officers. Jim checked into his associates, but apparently he free-lanced as muscle for a lot of people, so the trail's pretty muddy. The other guy died, if you remember, and nothing much came from checking out his background.”
“So not much progress.”
“Not really. Jim's pissed about it. He's not the lead detective, but he checks things out just the same.”
“Well, I'm sorry to hear that things have been stalled. And you? You're back to feelin' pretty good, I reckon, or you wouldn't be drivin', right?”
I laughed. “Hey, I'm great, although it took me a while to really get over the mono and, uh, well, you know, being poisoned and shot. My leg's all right, though. I even put back on a few pounds; all muscle, I'll have you know. Anyway, enough about me and Jim. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Well, I sure hope so. Seems that I might have met a kid that's like Jim.”
I made interested noises, and he went on.
“This twelve-year-old kid called the police one night, said she'd heard an old man wandering around in the woods and thought he needed help. Her mama was at work at the truck stop on I-40, and the girl was under strict orders to not leave the house. Besides, she's not foolish enough to start wandering through the woods by herself at night.”
“Sounds like she's got a lot of common sense.”
“She does. Well, me and Harlan responded to the call. We drove close to where she said he was in the woods. We listened and didn't hear anything except the usual woods noises, coyotes and owls and such-like - but she was insistent and repeated to us what she said the old man was a-sayin'. He was callin' out for someone named Flora. Harlan thought she was makin' it all up, but I remembered how Jim was able to hear talk when by all rights he shouldn't have, and I called Maddie. You remember her?”
I stretched again, thinking back. “Um, at the hospital?”
“She was the nurse who treated you at the ER when you was sick. I asked if she knew anybody name of Flora who might be caretakin' an old man.”
“Sure, I remember her. Say hi to her from me, okay?”
“I'll pass that along. Well, Maddie knows everythin' that goes on in Sweetwater and out in the county, too. She come up with the name Flora Anderson. Her husband's grandpa from Nashville had moved in with them and was in the first stages of Alzheimer’s. So I called Miss Flora and she went and looked and turned out Grandpa Ezra was missin'. We got together a search party and I called Kathleen's mama and she gave permission for the girl to help us look for the old gentleman.”
“She found him, didn't she? How far away was he?”
“A mile and a half, and she led me and Harlan right to him. He'd wandered a good four miles away from his house. I asked her if she'd always had such good hearin', but she said no. It'd started up about a month earlier.”
“When I was searching for a sentinel to study, I tested hundreds of people with one or two enhanced senses. Kathleen might fall into that population.”
“She's got sharp eyes, too, I've noticed. I haven't said much to her, except to thank her for her help and ask if she was having any trouble with her senses. She told me sometimes things sound so loud to her that it makes her ears hurt and things taste funny. She also gets rashes a lot, but she's been tested for allergies and she's not allergic to anything. I told her and her mama I might be able to get somebody who knows about these things to talk to her, let her know if there was anything that might help her.”
“Sure. I can send you some material for her mother to look over. I don't have as much data on women sentinels but I've got a hunch that maybe her sentinel senses were latent and became activated when she started puberty. She has started it, hasn't she?”
“Looks to me that she has. Do you ever drive out this way, Blair?”
“Not yet, but my boss said he'll need me to do some cross-country runs soon since one of the other drivers is going to be out for a while.”
“I-40's not that far away from Sweetwater. We could meet you at a truck stop, if you're driving that way.”
“I wonder if she's met a guide. A sentinel and guide relationship doesn't have to be like mine and Jim's. Jim probably had a couple of guides before me. Possibly a football coach who gave him a lot of support, and then I wonder if anybody from his Ranger unit might have been one. A shaman helped guide him when he was in Peru.”
“Reckon you're his last guide, though.”
“Man, you reckon right. Hey, I'll call you if it turns out I'm routed east on I-40. If Kathleen's mother agrees, I'd be happy to meet the two of them, maybe do a few simple tests.”
“I appreciate it, Blair. You take care now.”
I said goodbye and called Jim before he went to bed. We talked about Dave's information - Jim had told him to talk to me about the sentinel stuff, since I was the expert - then I regretfully ended the call by telling him I loved him and to sleep well. Jim had admitted he'd used a bag with my lightly worn clothes in it to breathe in some of my scent this afternoon at a crime scene. He kept a bag in the truck and one at the loft, in case he needed to reground himself. I wished I was home and could wrap my arms around him, pull him down to scent my neck. Ah, well. Wishes, horses, beggars.
I went inside the truck stop to get my shower and a large cup of coffee before I headed for Phoenix.
Xxx
I flicked my lights to let the pickup in front of me know I was going to pass him. I'd driven for almost three hours since leaving the truck stop and the lights of Yuma were before me.
When I'm driving on a night like this, on the interstate or a two-lane blacktop, I'm always fascinated by the shining trails of brilliant headlights and the dimmer gleam of red taillights. I love how cities and towns are illuminated into a kind of magical space by webs of lights as you see them from a distance. They cast a surreal spell over me as I roll down the highway, and I'll spend hours just thinking about what's important to me.
Sometimes I think my life is surreal. I'm a guide to a sentinel. That never stops being amazing, that I found Jim, and the years when I was his work-partner had been so fulfilling to me. Realistically, I couldn't have kept on being his ride-along observer. Somebody further up than Simon would have eventually ended it. As for being a regular cop, I'd have stuck it out, so that I could make detective and really be partnered with Jim. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of that happening in Cascade, not now. I didn't think it was much of a viable plan in any other city - just too many obstacles without the help of someone like Simon greasing the wheels.
Jim could go into private security or become a P.I. We could present ourselves as a team. I've got skills that would fit that kind of work. Except... Jim really did believe in the “Protect and Serve” motto, and the kind of work security entailed wouldn't be the same. He'd be a hell of a bodyguard, but if he didn't respect his employer, or they didn't respect him, he wouldn't like it. Jim and ass-kissing (except for mine) have never been very compatible. And a lot of private detective work is getting nosy about distasteful stuff, like catching a wife or husband cheating on their spouse. Jim wouldn't care for that, and I expected that aspect was bread and butter for a P.I.
Jim could just chuck it and live on what William left him, if he was frugal, but I didn't see him being happy without a purpose for his life. He liked being a cop. He felt satisfied solving crimes and taking criminals off the streets. He might feel compassion for them - Nathan Bergman came to mind - but he stood for the victims.
I finished passing the old truck, an ancient Ford, and felt nostalgic for a moment for Sweetheart. We'd had such adventures in the old girl.
Jim kept assuring me that he hadn't regretted trading her in for the truck we'd driven from Tennessee to Cascade. He hadn't kept that one, though. He'd traded it for another Ford, a blue and brown F series 82 Super-cab with four-wheel drive and a bench seat in the extended cab. I figured I'd be back there if Simon, Jim, and I went fishing again. No way would Simon fit and Jim would be uncomfortable, too. Really, that back seat was meant more for kids or dogs. I didn't really understand why Jim had gone for it, but then we'd made a truce regarding our vehicles. I didn't diss his truck, and he didn't shake his head too much about my fixer-upper AMC Marlin.
I usually thought a lot about Jim and me as I drove to San Francisco or San Diego or Billings or the other cities I delivered to, reflecting on the mistakes we'd made and how good it was between us now. Friends and lovers, and our auras reflected the happiness we had with each other.
Jim and I were fine, but Jim was still angry with his father. He felt that his father had betrayed him. He was trying to come to peace with himself about it through a combination of running things by Simon, talking to me at home or when I was on my downtime, and putting a lot of effort into hitting the bag at the gym.
Jim and Steven were spending more time together, and in their case their father's death had drawn them closer. That was something to be thankful for, because we'd all seen the opposite happen when a death shattered a family so badly that there was no coming back to healthy relationships between the survivors.
We'd all agreed to put a hold on trying to make William's ghost appear at his house, at least while I felt I was making some progress with gaining William's trust in the spirit plane.
That whole aspect was something that felt both surreal and perfectly natural to me, that I was doing the work of a shaman and accessing the spirit plane. I was awed that I'd had the experiences I had with seeing my own spirit guide and Jim's. I accepted that I had a calling to be shaman, and as a shaman, even a mostly untrained one, I felt a responsibility to help William's spirit gain peace and pass onwards.
William slowly had begun to relate to me, on my trips back to the spirit plane. I would travel to Blue Jungle Land from my dreams, or when I had the time to meditate, I would send myself there. Each time I would hear him crying, and I would go to the pool and dress in my Bermuda shorts and set out to find him. I would stop when I felt I was fairly close by, and blow on my whistle, making goofy sounds.
At first he would keep crying and as I walked up to him he would change again into the weasel and run off.
After a time, though, he altered his MO. He'd shift into his spirit guide and scamper a little ways away, just out of sight. I could tell when he would change back to human form. I'd play my whistle; he'd offer a counter melody from his whistle, although neither one of us were going to win any music awards. Jim would have plugged up his ears if he'd been there, but Jim was blocking himself from traveling to the spirit plane to make peace with his father.
I'd make it home by Friday and once there, I resolved to have a serious talk with Jim about William. I kept feeling that if William didn't go into the light soon, he might be trapped on this plane forever.
xxx
I shut off the car engine and just slid down a little in the seat. Marlins at least were made for comfort, and I was so tired.+ I could just shut my eyes and nod off. I wouldn't, though. Jim was waiting for me, and when I'd last talked to him, he'd said he'd feed me when I showed up. That sounded great. I wasn't sure what I'd go for first - shower, food, and sex or... food, shower, and sex. The sex would have to be on the low energy side; maybe I'd give Jim a nice blow job.
I'd gotten a parking spot fairly close to the loft. A few minutes of walking and then I'd be home. Once I actually left the car, that is. I would just close my eyes for a few seconds - have the shortest power nap in history.
I was startled awake by the door opening and then Jim was leaning over me, undoing my seat belt.
“C'mon, Blair. There's a bed waiting for you and I made a pot of beef soup. And buddy, you need to get those brakes replaced. I could hear them squealing all down Prospect.”
“Jim... sorry... Jus' closed my eyes for a moment.” I turned in my seat and grabbed my backpack from the back seat. “Brakes... yeah. I know. I can afford it after my next paycheck. Got to take care of my baby, after all.”
Jim snorted and held out his hand. I took it and levered myself out of the car and into his arms for a welcome home hug.
He kissed me, practically lifting me up against him, and suddenly I rearranged my to-do list. Sex, then food, then shower. I had a plan.
With reluctance, we pushed away from each other, and I smiled at him ruefully. “How long have I been out here?”
“Not long. I was listening and when I heard you snoring I figured I'd better come and get you.”
“You're making that up. I don't snore.”
“Keep telling yourself that, babe. Denial is a good look on you.”
I swatted Jim with my backpack and he laughed all the way down the street.
Xxx
I explained about my plan after dropping my backpack on the couch, but Jim squashed it. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and smiled knowlingly at me.
“Chief, you'll nod off after I make you come. You're practically asleep on your feet as it is. Go take a shower, and wake up a little, then eat.”
I mock-scowled at him while I took the hair tie out of my hair and ran my hands through it. Ulterior motives, man. I knew Jim liked my hair loose. “For delaying my gratification I should get twice the reward.”
Jim pretended to ponder that, but one side of his mouth kept wanting to turn up, giving his amusement away.
“I see your point. So here's what's going to happen. You get good and clean - inside and out - we'll eat, and then I'm taking you to bed and giving you a blow job.”
“Sweet.”
“And when you're lying there, all sleepy and comfortable, I'm going to roll you over, tuck a pillow under your hips and fuck you till you come again. You get two gold stars, okay?”
For an answer I walked over to him, and slid my arms around his waist. I'd missed touching him, and I wanted an appetizer before I did as he asked and went to take a shower.
Jim's smug smile returned. Well, maybe it had something to do with how I'd moved my hands till they were cupping his ass.
“I'm just gonna lie there and take it, is that right?”
“That's the plan.”
“Let you shatter me to pieces, make me see stars? I'm down with that. For later. Right now, though, I feel like being greedy. I've been thinking about this for days while driving down Interstate 5, picturing this moment.”
“Chief?”
I unbuttoned his jeans, slid down his zipper. “Did you jerk off while I was gone, Jim? I didn't. I saved it up for you. And now... Man, my skin feels too tight, know what I mean? Got that feeling in my gut, that heavy, delicious feeling, and my hands, man, they want to roam free. Touch you wherever I want, watch your skin flush, breathe on your dick, feel your hands in my hair...”
I'd gone to my knees, and freed his dick. I stopped talking to lick a wet stripe from near his balls to the head. Jim was breathing heavily, and he gripped my hair with one hand and with the other he guided his dick to my lips, touching them, and he rocked his hips forward.
I yanked his jeans down lower. I wanted more room to play, and I stroked his upper thighs, let my fingers dance over his skin, as Jim let out a frustrated sound and tightened his hold on my hair.
His dick was hard and darkening, and I looked up into his eyes and felt powerful, even though I was the one on my knees. I could make Jim Ellison feel like a god.
“Dial it up,” I whispered, and opened my mouth, welcoming him in and myself home.
xxx
Blair was a sensual little fuck. Pushy, too. But since he'd sidetracked me into enjoying one mind-blowing orgasm, I would let it go.
I told him that, after I could talk again. Still on his knees, he glanced up at me, smug. Blair was cute with his hair all tousled from my hands and his lips reddened from sucking on my dick. Still, it was time to get him back on the program.
“Shower, Chief. And don't play around in there. I liked what you said about how your motor's all revved up, and I want to be one to gun the engine.” I pulled him to his feet and he staggered a little.
He did look tired, and I wanted him to be comfortable when I took him up to our bed. I didn't want him to wake up hours later feeling grungy and hungry.
He disappeared into the bathroom, and I reheated the soup. Anymore, my life always felt like I'd put it on pause while Blair was away. When he returned, my senses would feel sharper, brighter. I'd relax in his presence, not realizing how tense I'd become while he was gone for days at a time.
It was frightening in a way, being so entwined with my lover like this. Our connection ran so deep, so strong, that if I lost him it would absolutely break me. I'd never felt such fear as I had during those times when he'd come close to dying. Lash, being poisoned by Golden, the fountain. Seeing his astral body floating over his unresponsive body.
One of Blair's sayings came to mind: Take the bitter with the sweet. I'd opened myself to Blair. If I'd kept myself guarded, like I had when I was married to Carolyn, then I wouldn't feel this absolute rightness at being with him. I'd been miserable the year he was gone, a surly bastard who was bleeding out and didn't even realize he was dying. I was so thankful that we'd worked things out between us. When I was with him now, I felt happy.
I wanted Blair to have everything he desired in life. Me, of course. That one we could cross off the wish list. But he also deserved to have a fulfilling career. Good friends. Colleagues that respected him for his intelligence and his ethics. And there was one more element I thought we should consider.
It would have to be something we both wanted. I'd been thinking about it for the last few months. I still had some doubts, but I'd talked to Simon and he thought I could do it. That meant a lot to me. And if Blair said yes, he would be wonderful at it. But he had enough on his plate right now with my father and finding a job in his field.
It could wait.
xxx
I handed Blair his mail at breakfast the next morning. He'd slept a good eleven hours, and he looked much more rested. I was feeling fine, and my senses were practically humming. Burying myself in Blair's ass usually did have that effect.
Blair finished his last bite of pancake and shoved his plate to the side. He started sorting his mail, muttering, “Junk, junk, bill, bill, bill,” as he placed each letter in the appropriate pile on the table. I grabbed our plates to take to the sink and Blair handed me the junk mail as well.
“Would you dump this stuff into file thirteen? Thanks. Oh, hey.” He held up a pale green envelope and I recognized Naomi's graceful handwriting. “Letter from Mom.”
He opened it and read it quickly, smiling at times. Then he handed it to me to read for myself.
Naomi was well. She wrote that she and Thomas were now in Scotland, and were staying at a bread and breakfast in Mull. They had taken a tour to the Isle of Staffa and seen Fingal's Cave, and in a few days they planned to visit Shien fairy hill. According to Naomi it was a “mystical place of power,” and she planned to meditate there. She and Thomas would be back in the States by the Fourth of July, about seven weeks from now, and she thought she'd come by to see us.
I laid Naomi's letter on the table. “Hey, Chief. Think she'll bring Thomas with her in July? It sounds like they've had a great time traveling together.”
Blair hadn't opened the letter he held in his hand. He shrugged. “Probably not. For Thomas, the time they've spent together has been a vacation. And when a vacation is over, Naomi gets to feeling hemmed in. The world is so big and interesting and there are always new places to travel to and to learn about.”
“Think she'll ever settle down?”
He stared towards the living room windows, but I doubted he was seeing Cascade. He said, “No. And why should she? It's not her thing.”
He looked back at me. “If Thomas wants to keep up with her, she'll stay with him.” He shrugged, a little smile beginning to turn up his lips. “If he decides to remain at home, she'll probably do the detaching with love bit.”
He started turning the letter in his hand over and over. “I'm not like her. I love traveling and seeing new places, too. It's so mondo cool to learn about different peoples' histories and cultures. But I need a home to come back to afterwards. Naomi's like a leaf in the wind. I need roots, man.”
“You know, I promised you a while ago that we'd take a vacation, somewhere with a warm beach. I could take time off; you could ask not to be scheduled for driving for a couple of weeks.”
Blair smiled at me. “Yeah, I remember that promise. It sounds just as good now as it did then. But I think it'll have to wait for a while longer.”
“Why?”
“William needs our help first. I think he's close to trusting me. And Jim, I have this feeling that his time is running out for catching the soul train out of here. Do you think you're ready to face him? He's got unfinished business to take care of before he'll let himself move on.”
Well, that was a good question. I'd been thinking about Dad a lot, but I didn't know if I could tell him I forgave him. Maybe if I knew why he'd hurt Blair, I'd get closure and could tell him that he was forgiven. Maybe.
“I don't know, Chief. If Dad will spill his guts, then maybe I can let the things he did go.”
All this time, Blair had kept playing with the letter in his hand. I pointed at it. “Aren't you going to open that one, or is it more junk mail?”
Blair made a face. “It's from a company that gave me an interview. I know it's going to be another rejection letter, so I was putting off reading it. I should do the rip off the band-aid fast routine and just get it over with.”
I refilled my coffee cup, giving him a moment of privacy to read the bad news.
“Huh. They want me to call and set up a second interview.”
“Which company is this?”
“Dawson Advertising Agency. They're looking for ethnographers to document how a targeted group uses certain products. You do interviews in people's homes, videotape them, analyze the raw data until you've got something to present to the client to beef up their sales. Guess Jack's recommendation letter is being given more weight than the fraud reputation.”
“Is that something that you'd like to do?”
“Well, the interviews and observations would suit me. I guess I really don't care if a product gets sold or not. They're based here in Cascade, but if I get the job there would probably be some traveling.”
“You don't sound too excited.”
“I've still got to get through the next level of interviewing. I don't want to get emotionally invested just yet.”
Blair got up from the table and gathered his mail. He disappeared into his old room, and I heard him dump the letters on his desk.
I glanced at the clock. It was almost ten o'clock. We had time before meeting Beverly later. I'd see if Blair wanted to go to the gym with me in a couple of hours. We could shower there and catch up with her and her friend afterwards for dinner.
I walked into his old room - I'd probably always call it that - and put my hands on the back of his shoulders and kissed him on the side of his neck. I was always greedy to touch him after he'd been away for several days.
I told him that Beverly had called yesterday and invited us out for pizza and beer, her treat. She was bringing another guest, someone who'd been with her at a three-day conference north of us in Bellingham, and she was going to show him around Cascade for the weekend.
He agreed readily. Then he turned around and hugged me. He stepped back and looked at me assessingly.
“I want to meditate for a while. Would you try to meditate with me? Travel to the spirit plan to talk to William?”
I hesitated. Was I calmed down enough to meet my father again and not blow up at him? I might be. Blair read the indecision on my face and took my hands, then he tilted his head and I knew he was reading my aura.
“What's the verdict, Doc?”
“I think you're getting there, Jim.”
“Clear as mud, Chief. Getting where?”
“To where you're able to forgive your father. He made a mistake, a horrible mistake in taking his life, but he was confused, panicked.”
“I get that. But he made a campaign out of harassing you.”
“What he did to me was wrong, and I'm not making excuses for him. But, you know, I've struggled with understanding myself and the way I think about things based on being abused as a kid. Or did think. I hope that I'm catching myself now and not falling into making the same mistakes again. The ways I've fucked up in the past do make me have empathy for William. I hear him crying when I'm in Blue Jungle Land and I know he's conflicted--”
“And miserable.”
“Yeah,” Blair said. “I don't think he had anybody to help him through whatever trauma he experienced as a child. I hope we can help him now. I feel in my gut that his time is running out for passing on.”
I didn't want my father to stay an earth-bound ghost.
This wasn't the first time Blair had mentioned that he thought Dad's hourglass was almost out of sand. Blair was a shaman, and I'd learned that you didn't blow off what a shaman told you.
Blair had done a ceremony for me on the way back to Cascade. He'd taken from me the black energy that darkened and damaged my soul and he'd given me his own energy to fill the empty places that were left. That was an extraction, a shamanic practice, and he'd done it with some help from the spirit world and because he'd accepted the calling to be a shaman. Blair had skills in dealing with the spirit world as much as he had talents for doing so many other things.
I'd come out of that ceremony feeling lighter, more able to appreciate the good things in my life. It had taken a while for me to really understand how I'd changed for the better. I didn't want to return to being the way I was before Blair had helped me.
I could choose to keep feeling angry with Dad, keep stoking that fire, but it would damage my soul. Letting my rage towards Dad go would help me as much as it would free him.
I tugged Blair to me and kissed him. “I'm working on forgiving him, but I feel like I need to move. I think I'll go for a run while you meditate. Want to go to the gym afterwards, then meet up with Bev?”
“Sure. Gee, I haven't seen Bev in a while. Not since Bergman's trial. It'll be good to catch up. And Jim, when you're thinking about your dad, remember that he loved you, okay?”
I nodded, a lump in my throat suddenly. He had loved me. We'd reconnected finally, but all the years we'd been estranged were such a waste.
Blair hugged me again, in tune to the shift in my feelings, I supposed. I dropped a kiss on the top of his head and took a deep breath. “Tell Dad, if you talk to him, that I miss him.”
“I will. Have a good run.” He moved away from me and I put on my running shoes. I stood by the door and just watched Blair for a few moments as he arranged the living room to his satisfaction.
I left when he sat down in the middle of a ring of lit candles.
xxx
Cont'd on next post due to size of the chapter. Part Two