Free The Empath (The Above and Beyond Series Book 1) by Jody Klaire Page B

but flat farm land snaking into the valley. Different from straight ahead as we disappeared into more trees. The surroundings became wilder as an army of white oak lined the road either side. I’d had some good times climbing those and one painful meeting between my front teeth and a trunk. We came to a dirt and gravel lane and turned down it.
    I had to hang on to the back of the front seat to keep from slamming into the roof as we seemed to hit every neglected rut and rock. Each rocking motion felt like the place was welcoming me home, the breeze rippling through the leaves before us. I could feel her, Nan, out there in the shadow of Blackbear Mountain—every branch, every blade etched with the sense of her.
    I spotted the silhouetted shape of the cabin and felt an ache inside me that she wasn’t there no more. Would the place I’d called a sanctuary still feel that way without her? It was the oldest place in town. I ain’t exactly sure how old but I knew that generations of Loreleis had splashed in the river, heard the rumble of the waterwheel, and ate trout from up stream. I couldn’t help but smile as we passed the old tree stump that my grandpa had carved Nan as a wedding present. I was pretty sure that Loreleis must grow out of the ground on the banks of the river.
    With those kind of roots, my heart should have soared at the sight of the place but instead I could just about keep my teeth from grinding. It was nothing but a shell.
    And shell was a polite word for it. The roof was half rotted away. The wooden door was black from where the river must have flooded the place at some point. The windows had been smashed with rocks or stones from bored kids and the wheel, which had once gotten its power from the river, was smashed up and growing its own meadow.
    “It needs work,” my father said.
    “Stating the freakin’ obvious,” I muttered. “Don’t I have to sign in? State I won’t eat any of the town’s children?”
    My father flashed an irritated look in the rear-view mirror. “It’s all a joke to you, isn’t it? A decade in prison and you still think everything is funny.”
    I fought the urge not to explode in anger. The car was getting smaller as claustrophobia set in, the seat squeezing in and out. “Funny? No, I don’t think being locked in a mental institution is funny . . . now, let me the hell out.”
    My voice filled the car and the birds nesting in the tree nearby made a break for it. My father got out and opened my door. I climbed out. The night air whipped through my ill-fitting clothes but I wasn’t cold. I was too pent up. My father let me stand there, still cuffed, as he threw camping equipment and a large trunk at my feet.
    “I’m surprised you didn’t just torch the place to emphasize your bruised ego,” I said.
    He walked to me and uncuffed me. “She left it to you.”
    I laughed—a hollow, raw laugh. “I bet that really bugged mommy dearest. No way to milk the tourists now.”
    My father pulled a box of supplies from the trunk and placed it on the ground. “Your mother left me. I have a new life . . . a new family now . . . so do everyone a favor and keep away.”
    I pointed to my ankle. “What about my monitor?”
    He knelt down, took it off, and threw it into his car. “You want supplies. Order them, grow them, hell, hike to the city—”
    “That’s an hour by car.”
    “I don’t care. Just stay the hell away from town.”
    I pumped my fists as I looked at him. I might not be able to read him but I wasn’t a skinny little kid he could bully anymore. “I served my time. I have rights. I can go where the hell I like.”
    My father got in his car, hiding in his metal shield. “I’m serious. If I see you near the town, you’ll be in prison by nightfall.”
    “Very touching, Daddy ,” I shot back. “At least mother came to her senses in the end.”
    The jibe hit him where it hurt and he blinked. Then he scowled and screeched off.
    I watched the cruiser throw up