Feels Like Rain

Prologue

Malyn

Tests have haunted me my entire life. Not the high school kind of tests that you know about in advance so you have ample time to study and prepare yourself for. No, I'm talking about the pop quizzes of life. They always happen with no warning, catching you off guard and unprepared.

As I sat in the middle of the crowded restaurant, listening to my hysterical three-year-old son, Jet, scream at the top of his lungs, all the while the ghost of a dead man was circling us, I wondered what kind of test I was being given this time.

Max, who is practically my adoptive grandfather, once told me that life was just a test. "We are all tested on different levels, dependin' on how much we can handle," he'd said. "If ya were always given easy tests, you would always pass. If ya constantly pass, never being challenged, ya never learn. The only way to grow and become the person you're supposed to be is to be challenged. That's how life is. You're not being punished, Malyn, you're being made." Seeing as how I'm thirty-eight now and still 'being made', I wondered if I'd ever actually get finished.

Today is my husband, Beau's, and my ten year anniversary, so Grandmama and Max wanted to take us out for dinner to a place we'd never been, which happened to be a small restaurant at an old mill in a nearby town. Being able to see spirits my entire life, I'd gotten used to being around them, usually pretending they're not there. Not all historic locations are haunted, but several of them are, including this one. As accustomed as I'd gotten to being around ghosts through the years, it still hasn't prepared me for how Jet reacts to them.

They'd sat us outside on the large patio overlooking a small waterfall, which was beautifully serene. That serenity was shattered when I saw the ghost of a man cross the yard. He was an older man who had on overalls, a plaid shirt, and boots. I should've known from the look on his face that he was gonna be trouble, but I tried to give ghosts the benefit of doubt.

Once he stepped up onto the patio, eyeing each patron that he passed, Grandmama's eyes darted to mine-she could sense him. "I think we need to-" She hadn't even gotten the words out when Jet jerked his head up and started to cry. His eyes were scanning the patio, looking for whatever was causing his distress, but I could tell he couldn't see him.

When Max looked up from his menu and saw the dead man, the man saw him looking at him. "I knew y'all felt different," the old man yelled. Max, like me, could also see spirits. That's actually how he met Grandmama, who introduced me to him when I was really young, since our abilities were the same, hoping he could help me. He'd been a part of our family ever since. "Y'all can see me, can'tcha?" He walked around our table before leaning down on it, eyeing each one of us as Jet's cry turned into a scream. He glanced at Jet before sticking his face up to mine. "What are y'uns, some kind of witches?"

"I'm taking him to the car," I announced quietly as I picked up Jet.

Grandmama apologized to our waitress and told her he was sick and that we had to leave. I didn't wait for them as I walked down the patio steps and across the gravel parking lot with Jet flailing in my arms. To my dismay, the dead man was following us.

"Ya know what they used to do to witches 'round here? Y'all got some nerve steppin' foot on this property." He came at me as I tried to buckle Jet up, causing me to instinctively swing at him. The old man wasn't able to touch me, or vice versa, but every time he reached out at me, Jet screamed. I'd had enough.

I turned and glared at the dead man, not caring who saw me appear to talk to thin air at this point. "Yes, I'm a witch," I lied. "And if you don't leave me and my son alone I'll curse your very soul. If you were alive, you'd wish you were dead. Hell would be a release from what I'm about to cause you if you don't... leave... right... now." The last words came out through gritted teeth.

The man glared back at me, considering my words. "Ya threatenin' me?"

"Oh, no, it's no threat; it's a promise." I circled my hand in front of my face, flicking my fingers up at him like I was about to do some witchy damage.

He held his hands up in defense. "I'll go." As he reluctantly walked away, he looked back over his shoulder at me. "Y'all best not come back here."

"Don't worry," I said to myself as I turned back around and consoled Jet. "It's okay, little man. He's gone. Mean man's gone."

"Well, that was interstin'," Beau said as he walked up behind me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "What made John Thomas cry like that?" He leaned in the backseat and pinched his knee playfully.

"I don't know."

"Well, I think I know," Grandmama said as she and Max made their way to the car. "I felt that man the second Jet started cryin'."

"But why would he cry like that? Wouldn't he just feel like any other man approaching us?" I asked.

"He was a mean one," Grandmama said, shaking her head. "Full of hate and anger."

Max opened the passenger door and got in. "Let's talk about it in the car." As we all got in and headed to our favorite non-haunted restaurant, Max continued. "I've been watchin' Jet for a while and today has proven that my theory may actually be right. We know he can't see ghosts; however, he can sense them."

"Yeah, we assumed that much," I agreed.

"Well, I also think he's clairsentient-an empath."

Grandmama nodded in agreement. "I've wondered that."

"What's a clairs-an empath?" I asked.

"He can pick up on other's emotions. He's not moody, he just takes on the emotions of those around him and he doesn't understand what's goin' on or how to handle it. When that man walked up, Jet was filled with that same hate and anger, which we, and everyone else on the patio, witnessed."

"What can we do?" I asked, hoping he was somehow mistaken. Being a scientist and researcher for most of his life, Max's theories were usually spot on, but I was hoping this one wasn't.

"Just sit back and wait. As he grows, I've got a feelin' that his sensitivity to the emotions around him will only intensify, as our own emotions do. But he should be able to control it better when he's older, since he'll have more of an understanding of what he's actually feeling compared to what he's only perceiving. It'll be a learnin' process for all of us."

I looked over at Beau, wondering what he was thinking. Whatever was going through that mind of his was hidden behind a smile. "It's gonna be okay." His dimples sank in deeper as he squeezed my knee.

I took a deep breath and nodded, even though I doubted his words. My son may or may not be able to feel people's emotions-angry, sad, distraught, psychotic. How would that ever be okay? I thought being able to see spirits my entire life was bad, but this was worse-much worse.

I felt my eyes start to burn as a knot formed in my throat, which prompted me to look down at Jet, who was now fast asleep. I wondered if he was awake if he'd be crying, since that's what I felt like doing. I'd always thought that he got upset when I did because he didn't like seeing me that way, but now I knew better. It wasn't because he didn't like it; it was because he was feeling it, too.

Beau squeezed my knee again, causing me to look up at him. "We've faced some tough things in our lives, yet here we are. This won't be any different." He wiped a tear away that I didn't realize had escaped. "He's a strong, healthy boy. If this is all we have to worry about durin' his life, we'll be lucky."

"You're right." No matter what special gifts my ancestors and I had unknowingly bestowed upon him, he was healthy.

I returned his smile as we rode the rest of the way to the restaurant, thankful for my little family. But no matter how thankful I was or how lucky I knew we were, I still couldn't help but worry. Everyone wants their child to live a happy life, but how could mine ever be truly happy if the emotions of everyone else were always crashing down on him? I guess we'd find out soon enough.