Read Online If There Be Dragons by Kay Hooper - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kay Hooper
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six-year-old’s memory of the tangle of love and hate. He reached across the table to cover her hand, but Brooke snatched it away.
“Don’t.” Green eyes, filled with misery and confusion and pain, stared into his. “I—I can’t think when you touch me. I can’t tell you. And you have to know, don’t you? You
have
to.”
“I have to,” he agreed quietly.
Brooke nodded jerkily, falling silent for a while. When Cody was beginning to think she meant to confide nothing more, she finally spoke. “I guess I was about five when I realized Mother didn’t like me. She was never demonstrative; Daddy was. But it wasn’t that. I was psychic then; I picked up feelings rather than thoughts, and I didn’t understand. I always felt…twisted and ugly whenever Mother came near me. And she said things out loud to me when Daddy wasn’t around. That I was stupid. That I was ugly.”
Cody, swallowing anger, began to build a composite picture in his mind of a mother so driven by jealousy of her child that she cruelly undermined her confidence. Because Cody knew instinctively that Brooke had been a beautiful child, an innately sweet and giving child.
So lost in memory that she was unaware of Cody’s building anger, Brooke unconsciously validated his thoughts. “I tried to—to win her love. I tried to be a good girl. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t win her approval. And I was afraid to tell Daddy what I felt when I was around Mother; I was afraid he’d stop loving me.
“Then Daddy died.” Brooke blinked quickly for a moment, adding with unconscious starkness, “I missed him.”
Cody had forgotten the throbbing of his ankle, had forgotten the wolf lying quietly on his blankets watching them. He was staring at Brooke’s profile and hearing the puzzled anguish of a little girl.
She sighed raggedly. “There wasn’t any money, and Mother wasn’t trained for anything. She complained bitterly about having to wait on tables or clerk in stores. She ignored me, except when she wanted someone to yell at.”
The pain in her voice hurting him more than he would have believed possible, Cody tried to divert her mind. “Your uncle? Couldn’t your mother have turned to him for help?”
Brooke shook her head. “Daddy and Josh had a terrible argument when he married her. Josh thought that Daddy was too young, and that Mother wasn’t the wife he needed. They never saw each other again, and Daddy never told Josh about me. Mother—Mother had never met Josh, and she didn’t know where he lived. We were living in Alabama then.”
“I see.”
Brooke picked up her cup and drained the last of the cold coffee, seemingly unaware or uncaring that it was cold. “We lived in a tiny apartment, near enough to a school so that I could walk. And it was when I was in the first grade that everyone began to realize I was…different. My teacher noticed it first; I was answering questions before she asked them out loud, and she realized I was probably psychic. She’d graduated from Duke University in North Carolina, and she knew about the work they were doing there in paranormal research.
“She gave me a few simple tests herself, making them seem like games. Then she arranged a meeting with Mother after school one day. And she told her about my…gifts.”
Cody watched the still, silent profile for a few moments. He wondered what Brooke was thinking, wondered what had given birth to the diamond hardness he saw now in her face. Then the spell shattered.
Brooke stirred slightly and turned her head to meet his quiet gaze. “That’s Chapter One,” she said lightly. “Let’s leave Chapter Two for later, shall we?”
The forced lightness didn’t deceive Cody; he heard the strain in her voice and saw it in her eyes. And memories, he’d discovered, were best pulled from the dark recesses a few at a time; yanking open the door and allowing them all to rush in at once was possible only if one’s memories were mostly happy
“Don’t.” Green eyes, filled with misery and confusion and pain, stared into his. “I—I can’t think when you touch me. I can’t tell you. And you have to know, don’t you? You
have
to.”
“I have to,” he agreed quietly.
Brooke nodded jerkily, falling silent for a while. When Cody was beginning to think she meant to confide nothing more, she finally spoke. “I guess I was about five when I realized Mother didn’t like me. She was never demonstrative; Daddy was. But it wasn’t that. I was psychic then; I picked up feelings rather than thoughts, and I didn’t understand. I always felt…twisted and ugly whenever Mother came near me. And she said things out loud to me when Daddy wasn’t around. That I was stupid. That I was ugly.”
Cody, swallowing anger, began to build a composite picture in his mind of a mother so driven by jealousy of her child that she cruelly undermined her confidence. Because Cody knew instinctively that Brooke had been a beautiful child, an innately sweet and giving child.
So lost in memory that she was unaware of Cody’s building anger, Brooke unconsciously validated his thoughts. “I tried to—to win her love. I tried to be a good girl. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t win her approval. And I was afraid to tell Daddy what I felt when I was around Mother; I was afraid he’d stop loving me.
“Then Daddy died.” Brooke blinked quickly for a moment, adding with unconscious starkness, “I missed him.”
Cody had forgotten the throbbing of his ankle, had forgotten the wolf lying quietly on his blankets watching them. He was staring at Brooke’s profile and hearing the puzzled anguish of a little girl.
She sighed raggedly. “There wasn’t any money, and Mother wasn’t trained for anything. She complained bitterly about having to wait on tables or clerk in stores. She ignored me, except when she wanted someone to yell at.”
The pain in her voice hurting him more than he would have believed possible, Cody tried to divert her mind. “Your uncle? Couldn’t your mother have turned to him for help?”
Brooke shook her head. “Daddy and Josh had a terrible argument when he married her. Josh thought that Daddy was too young, and that Mother wasn’t the wife he needed. They never saw each other again, and Daddy never told Josh about me. Mother—Mother had never met Josh, and she didn’t know where he lived. We were living in Alabama then.”
“I see.”
Brooke picked up her cup and drained the last of the cold coffee, seemingly unaware or uncaring that it was cold. “We lived in a tiny apartment, near enough to a school so that I could walk. And it was when I was in the first grade that everyone began to realize I was…different. My teacher noticed it first; I was answering questions before she asked them out loud, and she realized I was probably psychic. She’d graduated from Duke University in North Carolina, and she knew about the work they were doing there in paranormal research.
“She gave me a few simple tests herself, making them seem like games. Then she arranged a meeting with Mother after school one day. And she told her about my…gifts.”
Cody watched the still, silent profile for a few moments. He wondered what Brooke was thinking, wondered what had given birth to the diamond hardness he saw now in her face. Then the spell shattered.
Brooke stirred slightly and turned her head to meet his quiet gaze. “That’s Chapter One,” she said lightly. “Let’s leave Chapter Two for later, shall we?”
The forced lightness didn’t deceive Cody; he heard the strain in her voice and saw it in her eyes. And memories, he’d discovered, were best pulled from the dark recesses a few at a time; yanking open the door and allowing them all to rush in at once was possible only if one’s memories were mostly happy
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