The Healer: First Touch Read Online Free Page B

soft afghan around me and buried my face in its softness. I closed my eyes and tried to picture his face, the olive toned skin, dark hair, and dazzling smile. I lingered on the memory of his piercing blue eyes. No, he couldn't have been a dream. He was so real. I remembered his familiar, calm voice. I thought of his strong hands gently touching my ankle and supporting me as I hobbled home. I didn't even know who he was, but I knew that I wanted to see him again.
    Sitting back up, I again looked at my reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. I still had on my Michigan State sweatshirt and stretch pants from my run. It had to be real. He had to be. Despair gripped my heart and doubt filled my mind. How would I ever find him again? I didn't even know his name. My chest tightened and my throat became thick as tears filled my eyes and blurred my vision.
    The Grandfather clock struck 2:30, chiming its little melody. The noise startled me out of despair and I angrily wiped away my tears. Crying wasn't going to help anything. I was stronger and more determined than that.
    Standing up, I folded the afghan and left it on the edge of the couch. I walked into the kitchen, searching for Oma. She wasn't there. I found a note on the counter next to the sink. In her neat, small handwriting, Oma had penned:
Went to a craft show with Cathy. Will be back by dinner. Hope you enjoyed your run. Mrs. Tender said she saw you. There's plenty for lunch. Em called. Told her you would call her back.
    Love you.
    "Figures," I muttered aloud. I knew Mrs. Tender just couldn't help herself from gossiping about others. My stomach growled loudly, protesting my missing lunch. I opened the refrigerator and got out turkey, cheese, mayo, and lettuce to make myself a sandwich. I placed my sandwich on a napkin, filled a glass with tap water, and walked out to the front porch. On the way, I grabbed my cell phone and stuck it in my pocket.
    I sat down on the first step of the little covered porch, set my water next to me and balanced my sandwich on my lap. I loved sitting out here. There was always so much to watch. Children played across the street, cars drove down the road, and neighbors worked in their yards. I often brought my homework out here. Oma always thought there were too many distractions, but I assured her I needed the distractions and fresh air to do my best.
    But I didn't have homework today. I took a bite of my sandwich and searched the area within my sight. The neighbor children were tossing a baseball back and forth. Mr. Kuiper was mowing his grass. He gave a quick wave while pushing his mower across his manicured lawn. I nodded in recognition. I continued to eat my sandwich while I visually searched, but no one was watching me from behind any trees.
    I was looking for him. Disappointed, I concluded he wasn't there. I swallowed my last bite and wiped my hands together, dusting the crumbs on the brick steps. Picking up my phone, I dialed Em's number. Emma Quarter was my best friend. We had been nearly inseparable since we were four years old.
    The phone rang a couple times before she answered. "Hey, Em. I really need to talk to you."
    "Sure, Jace," she answered cheerfully. "Whatcha been up to today?"
    "Well, I went for a run this morning."
    "Beautiful morning for that," she replied. "You should have called me."
    "Yeah, it was great, but..." I was suddenly shy about sharing my morning experience or dream, whichever it was.
    "Jacey, are you ok?" Emma asked.
    "Yeah," I said. "Can you come over?"
    "Uh, sure thing," Emma replied hesitantly. "When should I come over?"
    "The sooner the better." I watched a small boy ride his bike on the sidewalk in front of me. He was so wobbly on the bike, I half expected him to fall over at any minute.
    "What's going on?" Emma asked. I knew I was worrying her with my evasiveness. I wanted to tell her everything and have her help me work through all of this. But I was a little afraid of her response. I wanted her to tell