Rebekah put a little bit of mousse in her hair, then used her blow dryer until her hair made the little wispy feathers she liked when she didn’t have to pull it back. She’d preheated her oven so it would be ready when Jeremy showed up, and thanks to the grocery shopping she’d just done, she had lettuce and tomatoes to make a salad. She rinsed the lettuce in the colander and had just chopped the tomatoes when she heard a knock at her door.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was moving like a turtle—some guy’s alternator went out on Main Street,” Jeremy said when she let him in.
“That’s okay. Gave me a chance to start a salad.” She took the pizza box from him, opened it, and put the pizza on a cookie sheet. While it baked, she finished making the salad.
Her hands were busy doing one thing, but her brain was churning on another—now that she’d told Dr. Hunsaker her secret and hadn’t lost her job, it should be safe to tell Jeremy, right? And she should definitely do it before their relationship went even farther so he’d have a chance to back out. They were meshing together well, much better than she’d thought they would, and she could see this going somewhere. It wasn’t fair to let this continue without telling him the truth, even if the thought did make her a little nauseated.
He leaned on the counter and watched her. “Is there anything I can do to help? I can wash something, maybe?”
“No, it’s about done, but thanks. What movie did you bring?”
He held up a video. “Star Wars.”
“Let me guess—you have a little crush on Princess Leia.”
“Nope. I like watching Alderaan blow up. It’s pretty cool.”
Rebekah laughed. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool, even though it’s very sad. Here—set this on the table, would you?”
He took the salad bowl from her. “How long until the pizza’s done?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“Then do you mind if we sit down and talk?”
She followed him over to the couch and sat down, studying her fingernails instead of looking him in the face. It was time to be brave and hope he didn’t go running out of her apartment like it was on fire.
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You said you might be able to open up to me after you talked to your sister. Did you talk to her yet?”
“Yeah, I did, and she thinks I can trust you.”
“She’s a smart girl. Yes, you can trust me. I’ve got a ton of flaws and I’m told that I snore, and I’ve still got boxes in my living room, but yes, you can trust me.”
She smiled. “I’m not worried about your boxes.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“That you’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Well, that’s easily solved. I already think you’re crazy.”
She picked up a throw pillow and swatted his arm with it. “That’s not the way to encourage someone to open up to you!”
“Sorry, sorry!” He held up his hands in self-defense. “You’re not crazy. Not even a little.”
“But you haven’t heard what I need to tell you.”
“That’s because you haven’t said anything yet.” He reached out and took her hand. “I’ll hear you out, whatever it is.”
“Okay, but remember that you promised.”
Once she started talking, it was like a cork had been popped, and she told him everything—about her father’s penchant for electronics, how a fuse had been blown or something on that crazy night, and how she’d been able to diagnose people ever since. Jeremy didn’t say one word the whole time she was talking, but she could see his emotions flitting across his face. He looked shocked and surprised, but he never looked disbelieving.
“Wow,” he said when she was finished. “That’s . . . that’s so incredible.”
“I told Dr. Hunsaker about it today and he didn’t fire me, so there’s that.”
Jeremy ran his hand down his face. “I’ve never heard anything like this—my brain feels like it’s been turned into spaghetti. I don’t mean the good stuff, like your mom’s—I mean the crappy canned stuff.”
The oven timer went off just then, and Rebekah was glad for the interruption. She lifted the pizza off the pan with a spatula, then cut it into slices. It wasn’t the most extravagant meal ever, but that’s not what either of them were in the mood for anyway.
When she brought the pizza over to the table, Jeremy said, “Is that why you want to meet my brother? You want to see if there’s anything you can do to help him?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s a long shot—he’s probably had great medical care, and I can’t promise anything. But if I did see something . . .”
“I can’t tell you how much that would mean to me,” Jeremy said. “My brother and I are pretty close. But you understand that because of all your sisters.” He paused. “Wait. Did one of them really have a ruptured ovarian cyst?”
Rebekah felt heat rise in her cheeks. “No. That was the lie I told to cover up my power. I’m sorry—I don’t lie just for the fun of it.”
“I understand. I’d probably do the same thing.” He took a bite of pizza and swallowed it, then said, “I can’t believe how gutsy you’ve been through this whole thing.”
“Gutsy? What do you mean?”
“Well, you get struck by lightning—”
“We weren’t actually struck.”
“Don’t interrupt—you’re messing up the drama of my story. You get struck by lightning and you don’t even freak out about it—that’s gutsy. Then you go around saving people’s lives with your newfound powers, and you never think about making money off it—that’s heroic. I’m impressed. I’m seriously impressed.”
“Except that we weren’t actually struck.”
He sighed. “Fine. If you want to be nitpicky about the details.”
“I’m not being nitpicky. I want to be accurate because you need to understand the full breadth and scope of what you’re getting into here. You’ve said you want to keep seeing me—I’ll understand if this changes your mind.” She really hoped it didn’t, but how could it not? She was kind of a freak.
He took her hand and played with her fingers. “This definitely doesn’t change my mind. I don’t think anything could—unless you told me you were a drug lord or something, and even then, it would be a tough call. You don’t understand how amazing you are, Rebekah, and I felt that way before I knew about your gift. The gift is just like a layer of frosting on an already very delicious cake.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “You’re calling me a dessert? Is that what the feminist movement has given us—the right to be called dessert?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Of course not. I’m just really bad at coming up with analogies. I told you I have my flaws.”
She smiled, loving the way he rose to the challenge when she baited him—and baiting him was fun. “All right, I will overlook the cake comment because I’m still thinking about what you said first, about how amazing I am.”
“Yes. Think about that and don’t dwell on my poor communication skills. The fact is, I want to date you, Rebekah, and I don’t want to date anyone else. Maybe ever again. This might be it for me—I might have found the one girl I want to date for the rest of my life. And maybe I’m scaring you off right now—all I know is, you haven’t scared me. Not by a long shot.”
“So, you’re basically unable to be scared. Is that what you’re saying?”
“When it comes to you, yes. The only thing that scares me is not giving this a try.”
“Then maybe we should give this a try. I wouldn’t want you to be scared.”
He grinned. “I like that idea a lot. And thank you for trusting me with your secret—I promise you, I won’t tell anyone else.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” She paused. “So, how about some Star Wars? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Alderaan get blown up.”
***
“Hey, Dad.” Rebekah plopped down in the extra chair next to his computer. “Whatcha doing?”
“I’m trying to figure out how to program this necromancer character,” Bob McClain said, pointing at his computer monitor. “I came up with the concept last night, but the coding just won’t do what I want it to do. My boss asked me for a new game idea, and I think this is the one, but the execution has to be just right.”
“Your execution is always impeccable, Dad,” Rebekah reassured him. “You’ll get this—you’re brilliant.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. You do know you’re my favorite, right?”
“Of course.” She grinned. “And I won’t tell the other six.”
“Good girl.” He swiveled around in his chair. “So, what brings you here to see me? You usually hang out in the kitchen with your mother when you drop by. What’s she doing right now, anyway? She’s been working on something in there for quite a while.”
“Looked to me like she’s trying to make tortillas. A worthwhile endeavor if there ever was one.” Rebekah pulled in a breath. “I need you to talk to me about boys, Dad.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t your mother have this conversation with you a long time ago? Like, when you were twelve?”
Rebekah laughed. “Yes, but that’s not what I mean. I mean, how do you know when the boy who says he likes you really does like you, and that he’s not just saying it? What if he only likes one thing about you, but nothing else, and he’s just pretending to like all the rest because of that one thing?”
Bob sighed. “I sure wish you girls would ever ask a question flat-out without all these hypotheticals and vagueness. It would make it easier for me to give an answer that’s actually useful.”
“I know, but sometimes we can’t be more specific. Let me just put it this way—how can I know if a guy really likes me?”
“First of all, I hope this fellow isn’t just stringing you along—if he is, I’ll have to go rough him up a little bit.”
Rebekah smiled at the thought of her mellow father roughing anyone up, but she let him continue without interrupting.
“And second, pay attention to how he treats you. Does he listen when you talk, does he ask questions about your day, does he want to be with you even if you’re not making out—”
“Eww, Dad. Gross.”
“I’m glad you think making out is gross. That will save you from lots of heartache later.”
“I actually meant that talking to my dad about making out is gross.”
“Oh.” He looked crestfallen. “You know what—sometimes it’s hard to believe that you girls are all grown up. I still think of you as being nine and ten—back before things were complicated. Makes me wonder where all the time went.”
“But think of all the time you have now.” An idea tickled the back of Rebekah’s mind. “Why don’t you and Mom take some classes together? That would be so much fun.”
“Your mother’s just started talking about learning macramé,” Bob replied. “Can you imagine me doing macramé?”
“That would actually be pretty awesome, but we won’t put you through it. I was thinking more like, dance lessons or painting lessons.”
“I don’t know—we’re too old to be learning new tricks.”
“You’re never too old, and besides, you’d be spending time together. That’s the main thing.”
“I’ll think about it. In the meantime, wasn’t I in the middle of giving advice to you? How’d we get so off topic?”
“You brought up making out.”
“Ah, that’s right. A guaranteed conversation stopper.” He chuckled. “What I’m getting at is this—when I was dating your mother, I looked forward to spending time with her no matter what we were actually going to do. With other girlfriends, I’d get bored if we weren’t doing what I wanted all the time.”
“Are you saying you wanted to make out all the time, Dad?”
Bob’s face went bright red. “No! I mean . . . I mean . . . Barbara! I need your help!”
Rebekah tried not to crack up.
“Yes, dear?” Barbara stuck her head into Bob’s study, a little bit of flour on her nose.
“Your daughter has somehow gotten the idea that I like to make out.”
“And?” Barbara asked mildly.
“Would you please set the record straight?”
“I’m really not sure what you mean, dear.” Barbara looked at Rebekah and winked.
“I was trying to explain to her that she’ll know if a young man likes her if he enjoys spending time with her even when they’re not making out, and somehow that got all twisted around.”
“Oh, I see. Well, dear, you know that giving relationship advice is a dangerous business to be in.” She turned to Rebekah. “Are we talking about Jeremy?”
“I thought we were talking about Dad, but yeah, we can change the subject if you want.” Rebekah grinned. “He says he’s starting to feel pretty serious about me, and I was hoping for some advice.”
“That’s wonderful!” Barbara beamed. “I really liked him when he was here for Sunday dinner—you’ve been out with him before that, haven’t you?”
“We went out Saturday, yes.”
“See, Bob? I was right. I told your father you had to know each other a little longer than you were letting on.”
“Not a whole lot longer, though,” Rebekah said. “It’s actually happening pretty fast.”
“As it did for your sisters, except Jessica. She took her own sweet time, but that’s just how she is. When you find the right one, it can happen instantly. You might take longer to make it official, but you have a sense right from the start.”
For a brief flicker of a second, Rebekah wondered if maybe her mother had some kind of gift of matchmaking, but she discarded that thought as soon as she had it. First, her mother wasn’t the kind who could keep secrets, and they’d all know about a gift if she had one. Second, she hadn’t tried to set up any of her daughters, and if she was a matchmaker, again, they’d all know about it.
“So if Jeremy did turn out to be the one, you wouldn’t get freaked out that I just met him?”
“Of course I would. That’s my job. But then I’d get over it and we’d start planning a wedding.” She paused. “But what about medical school?”
Rebekah closed her eyes as she realized the implications of what her mother was asking. Jeremy had just gotten a job in Bagley, and he wouldn’t want to uproot again so soon after moving here. If she got into medical school, she’d be moving to San Antonio, and he’d be in Bagley. Maybe they could find a place to live exactly in the center and then they could both commute half an hour, but that just seemed silly.
“I don’t know, Mom,” she said at last. “We don’t even know that I’ll get in, though—and we don’t know that Jeremy and I will end up together. We can’t make plans with so little information.”
“You can’t make plans, but you can certainly be thinking about all the variables,” Bob said. “You might have to try several different approaches until you find the right one, and you’ll have to be willing to put aside your preconceived ideas and think of something new . . .” His eyes took on a faraway look, and he spun back around to his computer. His fingers flew over the keys for a moment, and then he hit enter. “There!” he said, pointing to the screen. “There! I did it!”
“I knew you would, Dad,” Rebekah said with a grin. “That’s because you’re a genius.”
“Well, you’re a genius too, and you’re going to make this work out. If he’s the right guy, nothing will stop the two of you.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Rebekah stood up and gave each parent a quick hug. “Gotta run—I’m on the night shift.”
“Bring Jeremy over again soon,” Barbara called out as Rebekah hurried toward the front door.
She’d just have to do that. It sounded like fun.