I stood on the side of the street and waited for the mini-van to pull over and park. Mr. and Mrs. Jacobi greeted me and told me to get in the car. I did so and buckled up even as he hit the gas and merged back into traffic. I had called them an hour ago and they hadn't hesitated one second to hear me out or offer to do what I needed. In fact, they offered me anything I wanted but all I asked for was a place to hole up and a ride. Mrs. Jacobi asked me what I had been up to and I gave her the short and sanitized version. She wasn't happy with how the government had treated me and went on to explain what her family had experienced. I tried to apologize but she scolded me for thinking it was my fault so I shut up and watched him handle the traffic and downtown streets with the ease of someone who was used to it.
Twenty-five minutes later, they pulled into a nice neighborhood of split-levels and ranch houses that were solidly upper middle class. Most of the cars parked in the driveways were Volvos and SUVs. Their house was a two story Colonial in white with red shutters and a short driveway up to the three-car garage. They rushed me inside; the décor was subtle and understated elegance yet it had a lived in look that said it was a home and not a showplace like the Hamilton estate.
She showed me the bathroom, telling me where towels, shampoo, wash clothes and soap were stored. Last, she handed me a brand new toothbrush and gave me some clean clothes from her oldest boy.
"When you're done with your shower, follow your nose. We're eating steak in your honor. You do like steak, right? Not a vegetarian or something?"
"No, I love steak, Mrs. J," I replied.
She nodded and closed the bathroom door. I saw a large bath with a tub and a separate shower stall, a commode and double sinks with a full-length mirror behind them. The walls were a soft green and the decor was seashells with the same designs on the shower curtain, liner and wall border. It made me feel as if I were in a cave underwater.
I wasn’t in there long before I heard a hesitant knock on the door and heard voices I recognized. It was the three kids I had helped from the car accident. I knew their names; I had learned everything about them with my intrusion into their cores as I healed them. Mark, Andrew and Pickles. Well, not really Pickles, her name was Sandra but everyone called her Pickles because she was always into one.
“Laky,” they called. “Can we come in?” Fingers already on the doorknob. I grabbed a towel to over my almost nakedness as they opened the unlocked door and crowded in. All three faces beamed up at me and Pickles hugged my knees.
“Hi,” I said foolishly.
Pickles giggled and bumped her head against my groin. I turned red and held her far enough away so that she couldn’t feel anything.
“I almost got to see your wee-wee,” she snorted. “Mom says we’re going to help you escape from the Men in Black.”
Mark, the eldest rolled his eyes. “That’s for aliens, dumbass. He’s being chased by spies. I know mom told you to take a shower and get dressed. Then come down to eat. We’ll leave you alone so you can get to it. C’mon, gang. No man wants a couple of kids watching him bathe.” He gave me a manly grin and steered his siblings out of the shower. Turning in the doorway, he added, “be out before my dad flushes the toilet. The water gets bitchin’ cold.”
Twenty hot luxurious minutes later, I was clean, my hair back to its normal shade and in fresh clean clothes as I sat at the large table in the kitchen with the Jacobi family. It was filled with a veritable thanksgiving feast only it was steak and not turkey but just as much food and deserts.
I saw the father, Stan for the first time in detail. He hadn’t been in the car at that fateful moment when the garbage truck had rear-ended his family. Nor had I been conscious when they had tried to visit me in the hospital. Besides, the doctor had told them I had died and they were under the impression that I was a girl. The kids knew better; they had seen my life as deeply as I had experienced theirs.
Both of them hugged me long and deeply. Mr. Jacobi said, “Lakan, whatever you need, you need only ask for it. You saved my whole family, me included. I would have killed myself if you hadn’t saved my wife and the kids. When we heard that you had died---Well, it was like losing one of my own.”
“I couldn’t let such grief happen to any family on Christmas Eve, Mr. Jacobi. I have lost everything; I couldn’t let that happen in front of my eyes.”
He shook his head. “Not everything, Lakan. Mike Faraday and the other people you’ve touched are waiting to do their parts. Once you’ve eaten and rested, we’ll take you to the next rail stop.”
“We’re part of the Underground Railroad?” Mark asked proving that he was paying attention in History. “Cool!”
“You know you did something to them?” Mrs. Jacobi said. “All three are now perfect ‘A’ students.”
“No. I didn’t do anything to them, Mrs. J, except show them that life was precious and too fleeting. The changes you see are because of them, not me. I just gave them a second chance,” I denied. “They’re still human, the same as they were before I touched them.”
“No,” both denied but there was no fear in their eyes as Pickles reached out her hand and the blue light fell from her fingertips to bathe the table and us in its glow. With a sudden thickening in my throat, I remembered that I had healed her, made her better than before. I turned stricken eyes to her parents.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to change her,” I offered.
“Lakan, don’t,” she said and got up to come around and hug me. “She’s alive and in glorious health. Don't you know why we were on the road that day? We had just come from her chemo treatments at the hospital. She had leukemia, a type that is particularly fatal and the boys came to see if their bone marrow was compatible with hers. We’d all been tested and failed. Hers is a rare type that is very hard to match. You saved her life twice that day, Lakan. You have nothing ever to be sorry about. I mean this, both Stan and I would give our lives for you if we had to, Lakan.”
In the face of such conviction and depth of feeling, I didn’t have any words to acknowledge such a gift. I bowed my head and let the tears run down into my collar and when the whole family hugged me, I sobbed with total abandonment until I was so exhausted that I collapsed. Mr. Jacobi carried me to the bed in the spare room and all three kids cuddled around me. Even the family dog, a Golden climbed up. I fell asleep under the burden of their love which was both heavy and weightless.
In the morning, the kids woke first to let the Golden out and then they woke me. I had gone to sleep in my clothes and they were rumpled and smelly from me having worn them overnight. I slid my feet out of bed onto carpeting which was a nice surprise as usually they hit cold tiles (which was a great way to shock the system into wide-awake mode). In the doorway stood Mark and he pointed to the upstairs bathroom, right across the hall from my room. This one was done in blue with sailboats and lighthouses. I used the toilet, washed my face and brushed the horrible morning scum from my teeth. When I was nearly awake and not half comatose, Mark handed me fresh clothes. Jeans, t-shirt with long sleeves and a light jacket/vest with pockets. In the pocket were his ID, wallet and a roll of bills. Twenties and fifties. I raised my eyes.
“Mom and Dad. They said we look alike, except for the red hair and blue eyes. There are contacts in the bathroom that will make your eyes look brown. Do you know how to use them?” At my nod, he showed me the case and I inserted them. We stared at my image in the mirror and saw the boy with dark red hair and brown eyes. He framed my face so that the hair didn’t show and it was eerie how much we looked alike. He was just an inch or so taller than me at over six feet. I knew he was nearly ten months older, a star on the hockey team but still shy around the girls even though he was good-looking and not lacking in confidence.
“Stop staring, bro. You’re good,” he laughed and punched me on the shoulder. I winced. The wound on my chest was nearly healed but I was still tender in that area. He caught sight of the redness under the t-shirt. “Whoa. What is that? Does Mom know you have that?”
“I was shot. The doctors did surgery on me,” I explained reluctantly. I had to tell him the story and he was amazed that I had saved a US Marshal and Sami. He’d heard about it on the news and was even discussing it in his Current Events class.
“MOM!” he yelled and she almost came running. Within seconds of his recital, she had me undressed and was fussing over the scar.
“It doesn’t hurt, I’m almost healed,” I protested.
“When did this happen? Why aren’t you still in the hospital? We need to call a doctor and have him check you out,” she fluttered while Mr. J came running to see what the commotion was about. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of my chest.
“Holy shit!” he said inelegantly and Mrs. J didn’t give him hell for cursing. “That’s one hell of a scar.”
“Gunshot wound and they cut me open to get to my heart.”
There was utter silence. “Are you sure you’re up to this, Lakan?” he asked solemnly. “We can just hide you out here until you’re healed.”
“No. I have everything planned out and if I don’t leave soon, it will throw a monkey wrench into everything. I’m good enough to ride a bike for twenty miles, I can handle a car ride with Mike.”
“Car? Who said anything about a car? He’s bringing his motorcycle.”
I grinned. “Cool.” The parents rolled their eyes in parental displeasure. “Yes, Mom, I’ll wear the helmet,” I added and she popped me for reading her mind. Really, I didn’t have to, her thoughts were plain to see before she said or thought anything.