Whisper in the Rain

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

GRACE

It was obvious by the calm, innocent shine in Miles' green eyes that he had no idea what he was getting himself into. He sat, patiently waiting for me to speak, swiping dark, wet hair away from his forehead ever so often. It fell right back into place in the most adorable way.

I didn't want, need, nor deserve the attention of a guy of Miles' caliber; that much I knew. Guys like Miles grew up to be men with lucrative nine-to-five jobs, a wife who baked casseroles and darned socks in her free time, children who recited the Lord's Prayer at bedtime, and a house, dog, and fenced in yard in a safe, cookie-cutter neighborhood.

That wasn't me. Not by a long shot.

As much as I wanted that kind of life, it just wasn't in the cards for me. So, I did the one thing I knew would send this sweet, charming, attractive man running for the hills.

I told him the truth.

"I- I hear voices. Voices that no one else can hear. And I see things. People mostly." I steadied myself with a deep breath. "At first, I was able to ignore it. It took years to finally figure out I was talking to people who no longer breathed.

"Miles, I talk to them, and they talk back. Mostly, it's just little things. They tell me they're scared, alone, cold, confused, something along those lines. Sometimes they ask for help, but there's not a lot I can do for them, you know? But lately they've been-"

I stopped, but Miles was on the edge of his seat. Literally.

"They've been what?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, recalling the attacks. The fear. The pain. The confusion. The hatred in their touch.

"Violent."

"So, today..."

I nodded. "I've been touched, hugged, even caressed by the dead. Most spirits are gentle. Others, not so much. Like the one you witnessed today."

"Wow," he breathed. "And this – seeing and hearing people – it's been happening your whole life?"

"Yeah." Now he knew. He knew my deepest, darkest secret. "And if that's not crazy, what is?"

There. I'd said it. I was a freak who could talk to dead people.

I expected him to stand up right then and there and haul ass back to the likes of sane people. Surely, within the hour, a doctor would be coming to strap me into a nice, tight jacket with buckles and cart me off on a dolly.

But, to my surprise, Miles didn't leave. He didn't move. The air grew thick between us and I cut my eyes to where he sat, only to find him staring right back, his eyes ablaze with understanding.

Of course, that was a fluke. It had to be. He couldn't understand. No one could.

"You're a medium."

My shoulders jerked back in shock. He wasn't asking a question. He was making a statement. The peak of his voice was bordering on hesitant interest instead of confusion or disbelief, and that threw me more than anything.

"What?"

"Or a clairvoyant, maybe? Or a sensitive? I don't really know the differences, really. But, you can talk to the dead. That's..."

Holding my breath, I waited. I waited for him to tell me that I really was crazy. Or that he was scared of me. That wouldn't have been a new reaction. People normally fled when they figured out how my brain operated. But as his eyes lit up and he leaned forward in his seat, I could tell he wasn't going anywhere. He didn't fear me, nor did he think I was crazy.