A Spirited Gift

He was right about losing myself. It was what I feared most from this part of my gift that took me into other people’s emotions. I could handle most of the day-to-day things—towels manufactured at a sweat shop in China, cars that had been used for smuggling. But things like the perfume bottle, and probably the gun that had killed Sandi, were more difficult. The effects from objects like those were hard to recover from. The strong emotional undercurrents sometimes dragged me down like the cold Atlantic and didn’t want to let go.

I smiled thinking that Rafe was probably a good source of wisdom when it came to losing pieces of yourself. Wasn’t that what happened to him? Mary and his children had redeemed him, given him a lineage and legacy that he wouldn’t have had if he’d died on his ship at the hands of the British.

But I wasn’t a pirate, and I’d been brought up with a strong sense of right and wrong, duty and honor. I didn’t know if I could look the other way when the time came.

I went back down the secret stairs that led from the widow’s walk to my bedroom. Even though I was used to Rafe popping in and out now, I took a step back and gasped as a figure separated itself from the shadows in my room. “Kevin?”

He put his arms around me and we kissed in the darkness. “I missed you. I don’t ever want to argue with you again.”

I felt the same, but I wasn’t necessarily ready to let it go. “Is that something like an apology?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be. Do you feel like walking?”

Gramps was already in bed—probably having ended the discussion with the sheriff and the chief by volunteering my help with the gun. Kevin and I slipped out the front door without disturbing him and started down the dark, wet street.

“I know you were supposed to call me,” he began. “But I waited all day and you didn’t call.”

“I was busy with the Weather Channel thing and everything else.” I told him about what happened at the museum with the perfume bottle. “But I’m sorry I didn’t call. You were right. I should’ve admitted that my father stole from me. I just believe that anyone could be desperate enough to do it.”

He wrapped his arm around me as we walked down deserted Duck Road toward the center of town. “Maybe I was right—but so were you. That’s one of the reasons I gave up being in the FBI. It does make you see the worst in people. I came to Duck to see the best in people. But old habits die hard. I trust your father because you trust him. Let’s leave it at that unless something else happens. See? I’m learning to have faith.”

I hugged him hard. “I’m glad.” I admitted to being tired of lying and sneaking around where my father was concerned. “I’m going to talk to Gramps again too. I’m a grown woman. We have to work this out as adults. I’m going to see my father, and I’m going to tell him who I am. I’m sure we’ll all feel better when it’s over.”

“Good for you!”

The winds from the ocean and the Currituck Sound were screaming across the open spaces where there were no bushes or buildings to slow them down. We ran through those areas and ended up at the Curbside Bar and Grill. I was surprised to find it open so late.

But Cole and Molly Black, owners of the grill, were feeding whoever came in for free. The place was packed, of course, but Kevin and I managed to find a corner to drink some coffee and warm up.

“This whole thing with Rafe has turned into a bigger deal than I’d thought it would be,” I explained. “That perfume bottle really knocked me over this morning. I’m still amazed at how real those emotions can be.”

He took my hand, his face unusually serious. “I admit to having another reason for finding you besides apologizing,” he said. “I heard about the pistol this afternoon—and a crazy idea to have you get whatever information you could from holding the gun.”

I shrugged. “They haven’t asked yet. But I got that drift too.”

“Dae, don’t do it. The perfume bottle was nothing compared to the emotions of a killer pumped up with rage and jealousy. Not to mention the terror of a person being killed. Please promise me you won’t agree to this.”

“It sounds even worse when you put it like that,” I joked, but he didn’t return my smile.

I knew Kevin was overly cautious about these things. He was probably afraid of losing me like he had his FBI partner.

Not that the idea of losing myself completely wasn’t scary. Holding the perfume bottle almost made me forget who I was and where I belonged. I was so much a part of Mary that I wasn’t me anymore.

But I had to feel like I could control my gift—not the other way around. Otherwise I’d have to walk through life wearing gloves—literally. That just wasn’t me.

“You’ve already decided to help your grandfather, haven’t you?” Kevin asked, sitting back in his chair.