LOCATION:

THE CENTRE

BLUE COVE, DELAWARE

DATE:

11/14/96

Miss Parker reached down and snatched a piece of hard candy from the little glass dish that adorned her desk as she waited for an answer at the other end of the line. Her desk-lamp's metal neck was angled directly towards the cleared-off middle of her desk; Jarod's package sat in the exact center of that harsh circle of light like the sole prop in a minimalist play.

She balanced the phone between her shoulder and her ear, awkwardly, as she unwrapped the candy and popped it in her mouth. Come on, Broots, pick up, she thought, even as she grimaced: sour apple. Damn.

Finally, on the seventh ring, she heard him pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"Doing anything special, Broots?"

"Miss Parker! Uh . . . no, I'm not."

Miss Parker could hear music playing faintly in the background, proving his words false. "Good. I have something I need you to do."

"But Miss Parker--"

"It's your Thanksgiving vacation. I know. But the Centre never really closes, Mr. Broots."

"Right," he sighed in response.

She could hear childish laughter at his end of the line--his precious daughter, no doubt.

"Uh, what is it this time?" he asked.

"This is a quick errand. You can even do it from your home terminal. I need you to pinpoint the location of--" She glanced down at the flyer. "--a National Tractor Pulling Championship, held at an unspecified time in an unnamed fairground."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Do I ever 'kid', Broots?

"Well . . . no."

"It seems we made Jarod's first Christmas gift-list. A flyer advertising this . . . er . . . exciting little tourist attraction came in the mail to us, along with a few other items."

Broots cleared his throat. "Postmark?"

"What do you think, Broots?"

"Oh. Well, this . . . uh . . . tractor-pulling thing shouldn't be that hard to track down. I mean, it sounds like a one-of-a-kind event."

"As it no doubt should be," Miss Parker commented, idly twirling the phone cord around one finger.

"Yeah." Another voice in the background. "Wait--what? Hold on."

Miss Parker could clearly hear him talking to his daughter, telling her he'd be off the phone in a minute. "Go wait in the living room, Debbie," he stage-whispered, and then, louder, "OK. I'm back."

"You can reach me on my cell phone as soon as you have the answer--and don't let it wait until morning, either."

"Is that all?"

"Not quite, Broots."

Obviously disappointed, he said, "What else?"

"Tell your daughter I said Happy Thanksgiving," Miss Parker added, knowing full well that Broots would do no such thing.

She hung up the phone before he could say another word.

Her cell phone was in the locked top drawer of her desk; she retrieved it before gathering up her coat and Jarod's "present."

She hoped that Jarod was enjoying his freedom, wherever he was, because she would make damned sure he wouldn't have it long.

DATE:

11/14/96

A bell on a string clattered as Jasmine pushed open the door of the Spirit Centre. Jarod noticed immediately that her eyes were a beautiful ice-blue color, a detail he hadn't been able to retrieve from the newspaper photos of her--her eyes had been that anonymous gray common to all black-and-white images.

And those intimidating ice-blue eyes were now fixed directly on Jarod's own. Her stare was electric, piercing--it was as if she were trying to see into his very soul. And given her reputation as a psychic, she probably was trying to read him somehow. He looked down and to one side, away from her intense gaze. At the moment, he wasn't pretending to be anyone in particular, as close to being himself as he ever could be. He didn't have enough confidence in who that "self" was to let her see too deeply into it.

She looked him over, her gaze actually traveling the whole length of his body before finally settling on his face again. She seemed on the brink of saying something--she actually opened her mouth to do so--but then she evidently changed her mind, shaking her head almost imperceptibly.

Jarod forced himself to relax. "If you've already closed, I can just come back tomorrow." He looked almost longingly back over his shoulder at the wet street.

Jasmine's voice was husky, almost rough. "No--wait a minute." All the while, her eyes never left his face. "I--" She shook her head, once again negating whatever idea was in her head before giving it voice.

"What is it?" Jarod shifted nervously on his feet, wishing now that he'd never come to this place. She was a stranger, and strangers were--

"Come in, come in." She held the door open wider. "God, it's freezing."

--unpredictable. Strangers were dangerous. Like this whole wide world he'd so recently entered. The shop's warm air was the deciding factor--it breathed life back into Jarod's wind-numbed hands as he moved further inside, at least as far as the front window. She just kept looking at him, her eyes brilliant in her pale face--he had to say something. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I was surprised to find your store open at all." He shook the quickly melting droplets of icy water from his hair. "It's some night out there."

Jasmine returned to her stool behind the cash register. "The weather is something this year," she agreed. "Five inches of snow already, and you usually never even see flurries before Thanksgiving." She indicated a much-folded newspaper as if in support of her argument; the headline read, "Sudden Winter Storms Hit Home."

"Can I stay for just a few minutes? I'd like to warm up a little, before I go back out there. I have a few blocks to walk before I get home." He looked out the wide front window and shivered. He'd spoken no lie.

"Are you from around here?" Jasmine asked, making an obvious attempt to start a conversation that she probably didn't welcome.

Jarod turned away from the window. "I just got into town two days ago. I'm renting an apartment on Wooster Street. It's over the Chinese restaurant." She nodded, understanding the reference. "Look, I'm sorry to bother you, but your store seems to be the only place open tonight, and I've walked all the way over from campus."

Now it was Jasmine's turn to look away. "I'm sorry, too. I know I seem . . . well, unfriendly. But . . . seeing you was a bit of a shock." She hesitated, something that didn't ring quite true with Jarod--she seemed to be a forcibly direct woman. He sensed that, for some reason, he made her very nervous. "I mean--I mean that I'm not used to seeing anyone out this time of night, when it's this cold. In this weather."

Jarod suspected that she was hiding something--and never mind the fact that they'd just met. He decided not to press the issue, and turned away from her, curious to explore what he hoped would be his new environment, at least until the Centre finally caught up with him.

He was studying the wide array of incense sticks for sale when Jasmine asked, "You say you came over from the University? Are you a student there?"

"Not officially," Jarod replied. Again, not a lie. "I'm just studying there for a while." His intuition told him that she'd know if he were lying, just as it had told him a month ago that it was finally time to leave the Centre for good. He shrugged a little ways out of his coat, revealing an orange sweatshirt with the words 'Support the BGSU Falcons' emblazoned across the front.

"I see you've got the shirt for it," Jasmine commented, a small smile softening her features.

"I have a few more at home," Jarod replied, picking up a stick of incense and smelling it, his expression serious. He totally missed the slightly puzzled look she cast in his direction. He moved past the incense, pondering the intricate webs of leather, stones, and feathers decorating one wall. "What are these?"

"They're called Indian dream-catchers." Jasmine got up and walked over to him. "If you put one over your bed, it'll keep bad dreams away."

Jarod saw that she was wearing a small silver dream-catcher on a matching chain around her neck. He looked at her thoughtfully for a second. "I'll take two."

"Two?"

He nodded, saying matter-of-factly, "I have a lot of nightmares. Can you pick me out a couple?"

"Well, that's a new request. Most people only buy one." Jasmine looked up at him--the top of her head only reached his shoulders. Her gaze was as intense as it had been when she'd answered the door.

Jarod finally met her eyes, a crooked half-smile gracing his normally solemn features. "Why do you look at me like that?" He returned his hands self-consciously to his pockets, knowing that he looked like he was ready to run and helpless to look any other way--God, she was intimidating.

"I'm trying to figure out what element you are--checking out your aura."

"Aura?"

"The life-energy surrounding everyone."

"And does mine . . . check out?"

"If it didn't, I wouldn't have let you in here to begin with. I'm not stupid. Now, I'm just . . . looking deeper."

Jarod's dark eyes narrowed in concentration as he absorbed these new ideas. "What do you see?"

She remained silent for another moment, then said decisively, "You are somewhere between wind and water." Apparently, she caught Jarod's puzzled expression, for she continued, "No, no--don't ask. There are four elements--"

"But what about the other hundred and sixteen?"

"No--not those elements. Spiritual elements. Like the four elements in ancient times--earth, air, fire, water. People's energies tend to be divided up among these elements. Wind is the element of the mind and of communication. Water is the emotions, love."

"And what purpose does this knowing serve?" Jarod's nervousness was forgotten now--he was intent on acquiring her knowledge.

"I can tell things about people. For instance, the water-energy in you runs deep and dark, like a storm. Usually that means a person's known a lot of pain. You have, haven't you?" She glanced down, embarrassed. "Never mind. You don't have to answer that."

But Jarod answered honestly. "Yes. My life has been . . . difficult."

Jasmine continued. "Your version of wind . . . is associated with flight, speed. Quick thinking. You're very intelligent, good at teaching and learning. But whatever hard times you've had makes it difficult for you to relate to other people."

"Is it possible to know all this from the aura?"

Jasmine shrugged. "You tell me. Am I right?" She folded her arms nervously across her multi-colored T-shirt. "I've done stranger things. I mean, I used to help the cops--psychically, you know? They don't like publicity, but it made the papers anyway."

Jarod said nothing, knowing somehow that she'd catch him if he pretended not to know anything about it.

"Since I know so much about you . . . well, my name's Jasmine."

"An unusual name."

"I like it," Jasmine said, reaching up absently and brushing a chin-length blonde c<!-- -->url back from her face.

"And you can call me Jarod." He glanced out the front window and saw the lights from the Ben Franklin store next door reflecting on the wet pavement. "Jarod Franklin."

"Jarod, huh? Not exactly the world's most common name, either."

Jarod glanced down at his watch, squinting slightly to see the numbers through the orange and brown BGSU Falcons logo decorating the face. "Oh--I'm sorry. I've kept you too long, haven't I?"

"Don't worry about it. You've been . . . interesting." Jasmine reached past him, too close to him for his liking--with an effort, he controlled the urge to flinch back from her. An abnormal fear-reaction would make him seem strange to her, no matter what his instincts told him he must do.

She grabbed one of the dream-catchers and held it out to him. "Here. Free of charge."

He took it from her, noting the softness of the supple gray leather and the carefully threaded webbing holding the dark feathers together. He couldn't keep the astonishment from his voice as he said, "For me? Thank you!" He paused for a second, and then added, "Really?"

"Well, yeah. Why not?" He could see silent laughter in her eyes now. "What--never gotten a gift before?"

Jarod chose his words carefully. "Where I grew up, people rarely gave gifts."

Jasmine just shook her head, apparently deciding not to ask. "Don't worry. I make these dream-catchers. You're not ripping me off or anything. I mean, it is Christmas--well, almost--and it seems like you need it more than me."

"Don't you have nightmares?"

Jasmine looked away, her hands rubbing up and down her folded arms, as if she were cold. All the ease had gone out of her expression, leaving only the tired lines of tension he'd seen around her eyes and mouth upon coming in. "Believe me, Jarod, I do."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Listen, I didn't mean to--"

Jasmine shrugged again--Jarod was beginning to think it was a characteristic gesture of hers. "Not your fault. It's just that . . . well, something happened to me, not too long ago."

"I know what it's like to be alone," Jarod murmured, still looking at his new dream-catcher. "With no one to talk to and a lot to talk about." He glanced up again, only to find Jasmine looking at him speculatively.

"Yeah, I'll bet you do. I'm not alone, exactly. I have my parents and my daughter." She shook her head, smiling sadly. "But let's just say that the whole world looks different to me than it used to. It's no longer such a friendly place."

"Do you want to talk about it? I hardly know you, but I've found that sometimes a stranger can be the best listener." He inspected the dream-catcher's feathers closely, running them along the extended fingers of his left hand.

"Those are genuine Golden Eagle feathers," Jasmine commented, eager to change the subject. "I found them in the Rocky Mountains last summer."

Jarod glanced at his watch again. "When will your store be open in the next few days? I'd like to come back and take a better look around, maybe actually buy something."

"We're closed the day before Thanksgiving, until the Saturday after. We're on holiday hours right now--from ten in the morning until four o'clock at night. We're open longer when school's in session."

"We?"

"My partners and I--Eric and Simone."

"So why did you stay open late tonight?"

"My mom called from my place and told me her car wouldn't start. She's watching Brandy--my daughter, at my place until my dad can get into town to pick her up. I live too close to bother taking a cab." She went behind the counter and retrieved a coat and scarf. "I don't really want to walk home alone. Except, thanks to our freaky weather, I'm gonna have to." She shook her head in annoyance. "It's not even supposed to snow this early in the year, let alone this three-day snowstorm shit."

Jarod knew that it was less than a block to her apartment from here. He could nonetheless understand her reluctance to be out alone at night. Her attacker had come for her on a night much like this one, as she was walking home to her old apartment on East Merry Street from work. He also understood why she'd subsequently taken up residence closer to her store.

Jarod went to the door as Jasmine put on her coat. "Which way are you going, Jasmine? Maybe I could walk with you for company." He knew she'd refuse if he mentioned her nervous reluctance to go alone.

"If you're heading towards that China Village restaurant, that's my way." She tucked a paperback book into her pocket and adjusted her scarf. "My apartment isn't that far, though."

"Thank you for the dream-catcher. I'll buy my other one tomorrow--this should do for tonight."

"You act like it's an emergency or something," Jasmine said, producing a large bunch of keys.

"You have no idea, Jasmine." He opened the door and stepped out into the bitterly cold night, automatically scanning the area for potential danger. He was closely followed by Jasmine; she, too, looked around cautiously.

The wind hit them immediately, bearing with it the sting of an ice-shower--the freezing rain had solidified until it resembled miniature hail. Jarod immediately thrust his hands into his coat pockets and hunched his shoulders against the wind.

Jasmine locked the door behind them. "You're not from the north, are you? You're just wearing that coat--no scarf, no gloves, no hat."

"You must be a wonderful mother," Jarod said.

Jasmine tucked the keys back into her pocket as they started walking. "Sorry. Force of habit, I guess. You have any kids?"

"No."

"Brandy--my little girl? She's wonderful, but . . . well, you know."

Jarod didn't know, but he decided against informing Jasmine of that. He'd had precious little experience with children.

"Well, seriously, Jarod, you really should invest in some winter gear. The weather is downright hostile around here. A year ago, we had a blizzard." She pointed down the street, to a lit window on the second floor of a storefront, about a block down. "There's my place. We're almost there." She sounded relieved.

Jarod had located her apartment shortly after arriving in Bowling Green, and knew that the residential floors were situated atop a small store called Wizard Graphics.

"So," Jasmine began, disentangling her wind-tossed scarf. "Uh, where do you plan on spending the holidays?"

"Actually, I'm staying in town." Jarod shrugged, trying to think of something positive to say. "This will be my first Christmas here." His first Christmas ever, in fact, and he'd be spending it alone. He'd never even heard of Christmas until he'd escaped the Centre late last month and seen what appeared to be the whole country madly gearing up for the light-bedecked Event. And the one holiday message that he'd seen over and over in almost all of the holiday paraphernalia had been the sentiment that had stung him the most: Christmas was a time for family.

"What about Thanksgiving? I mean, if you can find it around all the early Christmas decorating people can't seem to resist."

"Thanksgiving?" Jarod carefully sidestepped what appeared to be a minor glacial ice-flow in front of a small secondhand store. "I hadn't even thought about it." True enough--he'd already dismissed Thanksgiving as the minor opening ceremony for what appeared to be a month-long Christmas orgy. The few Thanksgiving images he'd seen had emphasized family as much as the Christmas ones had, featuring groups of smiling relatives situated around tables heaping with food.

Jasmine interrupted his thoughts even as she seemed to echo them. "Doesn't your family miss you?"

"No. I . . . I haven't seen them in a very long time."

"Are you serious? That's awful, if you haven't seen them in so long. Family's important. Believe me, I know."

"Family's important to me, too, but . . . well, what can I do?"

"What happened to them?"

"I don't even know for sure. I was . . . adopted." He took a deep breath. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"All right." Jasmine stopped in the doorway of her apartment building. "Well, here we are." She dug her heavy collection of keys and keychains back out of her pocket. Metal jingled merrily as she searched for exactly the right key.

The wide front window of Wizard Graphics was dark, almost opaque. Jarod could see his and Jasmine's reflections in the mirrored surface. The look in his eyes shocked him--they seemed darker than usual, and radiated the sadness and emptiness that he'd been working so hard to hide.

He leaned closer to the window, trying to modify his expression into something that resembled happiness. His breath in the frosty air immediately caused his reflected image to fog over, erasing it as completely and as easily as his real self had been erased from the "real" world.

"Jarod?" Jasmine's voice brought him back to the present. She was standing just inside the lighted doorway. "Thanks for walking me home."

"No problem. Good night, I guess." Jarod turned away from her and began his solitary walk home.