Indigo

But Mia-Joy had her own agenda. “Yes, you can. Let’s talk about you.”

“Mia-Joy, no, I didn’t come here to—”

“Corrine, you’re lost right now.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, listen. I know you. You miss how you used to be in Chicago. Confident. Things were all black-and- white, cut-and-dry.”

She was right. How could she know this? And why were we talking about me? “How do you—”

“You weren’t perfect there either, Corrine. You just like to think you were.”

“Mia-Joy, I—”

“That asshole, what was his name? The rich kid you brought down for Mardi Gras last year?”

“Cody?”

“Cody. Arrogant rich kid. What had he said about your violin playing? Cute.” She made a gagging sound at the thought.

“I can’t believe you are going to—”

“Believe it. I’m just trying to snap you back into reality, Corrine.”

“Consider myself snapped,” I retorted.

“He might hurt you,” she said.

“Cody?”

“No. Rennick.” She gave me her know-it-all look again, and I liked it, even though what she was saying was hitting a little too close to home. “He might hurt you. You might hurt him. But you have to let somebody in finally, don’t ya, Corrine? I mean, you need to live. Sophie would want that.”

“I am living.”

“No. Not really.” Mia-Joy rolled her eyes. “You hold everything and everyone at arm’s length if you can’t completely control it. People. The touch. Definitely that boy.”

Was I doing that? “Mia-Joy, I’m not—”

But she was still going. Really going now. “Truthfully, you are worse off than me. You should be sitting in this bed, having all these old bald men asking you, ‘And how does that make you feeeeeel?’ ”

“Mia-Joy!”

“Just listen, Corrine. Life is messy. If it’s good, it’s really messy. I think you sometimes forget that. Life before Sophie. After Sophie. You idealize it all. And this touch, this blessing you have, it’s just making it worse. Nothing’s easy. Clean. Black-and-white. It doesn’t work that way.”

I pursed my lips, tried to blurt out some zingy comeback. But nothing came. Because she was right.

“Just give in to the flucking chaos that is life, Corrine,” Mia-Joy told me. She was really on her high horse. But I could see it there in her face that she was sincere too. “Have some fun.” She smirked now.

“Jesus, you’ve been spending too much time with the shrinks already.” I gave her a smirk right back.

And I hugged her, hugged her close to me, and she shuddered and let out a few tears, and it seemed so out of place, so un-Mia-Joy-like. I promised myself that I would be more present for her. I had been so stupid for never once thinking she might need me.

16

I called my mom and checked in, and Rennick said that he wanted to take me home for lunch. Lila and Dodge were antiquing up north, and Rennick turned a little flushed when he said we could be alone.

We talked about Mia-Joy on the way over to his house. He explained how Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings blamed themselves, how he blamed himself for not speaking up about the rip in the aura. I took my part of the blame too.

“I think she’s going to be fine now, though,” I told him.

“Yeah? And what if she hadn’t been?” He eyed me from the driver’s side.

“I don’t know,” I told him. “I don’t know yet.”

“I don’t think you need to be afraid of it.” He said this quietly, and he reached his hand over toward me, laid it on the seat between us. An invitation. “Either way, Corrine, I am here.”

I thought about all the advice and expounding Mia-Joy had just given me in her hospital room, and I realized that it had affected me.

I didn’t know exactly why or how, but it had me thinking. And, yes, I was scared. But I could move on, push forward. Rennick and me. The touch. They were both scary. They were both out of my control, but they were not tied to each other. They didn’t have to be.

I had no warning signs now.

I reached across the seat of the Jeep and grabbed Rennick’s hand. He clasped onto mine tightly and let out a sigh, as if he had been waiting for this. Just this. Only this. Could he really want me, just me? With or without the indigo touch? And if so, did I deserve it? After everything? After Sophie?

“Thank you,” I said, and leaned my head on his shoulder.

“For what?”

“Kindness.”

We pulled into the driveway, and he steered us back toward his garage. His hand never left mine, and I trailed behind him. He opened the old sliding barnlike doors, and there they were. His paintings. Auras, dozens of them. Beautiful combinations of colors, a kaleidoscope of stripes melting into hazy fogs, pastel clouds meeting a storm of jewel tones. There were many auras here, all beautiful in their own way, but I saw the one everywhere —mine—repeated in many different perspectives.

As I spun around, Rennick let my hand go finally, and there was one painting my eyes were repeatedly drawn to, the only one of its kind. It was a dark and haunting mixture of blues and reds. And even as I was asking the question, I knew the answer. “Whose?”

“Mine. Before I met you.”

I processed this. “So auras are in flux.” I realized that this only made sense, but I had never really thought about it.

“Don’t sound so surprised. Life is flux. Life is change.”

“And whose aura is the one?” I asked. “Painted and repainted?”

“You know it’s yours,” he said, and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Exactly what changed in your aura when you met me?” I asked, except his lips were on my shoulder now, running up and down my neck, his hands pressing on the small of my back. “Mmmm,” I moaned.

“Hope is in there now. Pink,” he murmured. “Purple,” he added, and he picked me up then, just swept me up with one arm under my legs and walked us toward the sofa in the back corner. He gently laid me down.

“Purple,” I repeated, my whole body nearly about to explode. Purple. Love. Did Rennick really love me? Hadn’t he just about said as much? Why did my mind act so surprised? My heart already knew this. My heart had known it for a long time.

Rennick braced himself above me, and he hovered there, kissing my collarbone, his lips brushing that spot under my ear. “Corrine,” he murmured, his eyelashes tickling my earlobe.

“Purple?” I asked again, teasing.

“Listen.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t be too cocky here. Your aura has purple in it as well.” The flush rose in my cheeks. Rennick sat up and pulled his T-shirt over his head. I sat up, breathless, my heart pounding.

I kissed him, and he kissed me back deeply. I tasted his lips, his stubbly chin, his jaw, his ear. “I want to put my hands on you,” I whispered.

And he shivered against me. “Corrine, I—” He pulled away a little bit. But I wouldn’t let him. I pushed him back onto the sofa and lay on top of him, pressing my body into him, kissing him, letting him know I wanted this.

I sat up and picked up his left hand. I kissed his roughened palm. I placed his hand over my heart, and then I used my fingers to trace every muscle on his torso, his ribs, his abs, his delicious abs. Our eyes locked. I pressed my palms flat on his chest and kissed his neck, his Adam’s apple, ran my hands through that hair. Kissed those