Tanya
Chapter 5
Millie knocked softly on Noah’s bedroom door and pushed it open when he invited her in. His room was beside hers, on the second floor of the huge house where she had lived alone until six months ago. She and her husband had bought the house, expecting to fill it with many children but they had unfortunately not been blessed with young ones.
Therefore, after mourning her husband for several months and after being achingly alone for the first time in her life, she had decided to adopt. She had been raised with brothers and it had been natural for her to want a little boy instead of a girl; she was simply more comfortable with boys. She hadn’t regretted her decision to have an older one who could care for himself in case she wasn’t capable of it but sometimes . . .
The bed covers were pulled back and Noah was sitting on the bed, waiting for Millie to tuck him in as she did every night. As she watched this proud little boy, she held back a sigh. Sometimes she wished Noah could be a little less independent. That he could look up to her and give her the feeling she was needed in his life for something other than a roof over his head. Except for making his meals, there wasn’t much that Noah couldn’t do and although Millie was proud of him, she despaired that he would ever need her as much as she needed him.
“Time for bed Noah, lie down so I can tuck you in,” she repeated the same thing every night but neither of them grew tired of it. They had both been lonely creatures and they delighted in the small shows of affection.
Millie pulled the blankets to cover Noah and he immediately wormed his right foot out of the blankets. She chuckled as she brushed his thick brown hair out of his eyes. “Good night sweetheart. Sweet dreams for you.” She kissed his forehead and rose to leave.
Out of the corner of her eye, Millie saw Noah’s hand dart out and catch her arm. “Millie?”
“Yes?”
“I- Could I ask you a favour?”
“Of course. What is it?”
“I don’t want to be alone right now. Do you think you could read me a book?”
Millie stood there and gaped. He had never asked her that before? Why now? Why tonight? Had he perhaps read her body language? Nonsense, he was thirteen years old, he couldn’t know how she felt. And yet . . .
Seeing as how she wasn’t answering, a disappointed look crossed his face. “It’s okay if you don’t, I understand.”
“No, sweetheart, no. I’m sorry, I was just surprised.” There was nothing forced in Millie’s smile. She suddenly felt younger, rejuvenated. “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to read?”
Noah frowned, lost in thought. Before coming to live with her, he had never opened a book before. When he noticed the pleasure Millie derived from reading, he had asked her for something easy to read and from then on, had been hooked.
“How about that story about the little orphan boy who picks pockets? What’s his name again?”
“Oliver Twist. Great choice. I’ll be right back.”
Millie’s eyes watered as she made her way to the first floor where the library was. She knew exactly where the book was and as she pulled it from the shelf, she took a minute to collect herself. She thought that maybe his request for a bedtime story was Noah’s way of telling her that he did in fact need her. She felt her heart swell with love as she wiped her tears and walked up the stairs to go read to her son.
* * *
Since Noah had turned fifteen two months before, he had grown radically until he towered over Millie. Although she wasn’t a petite woman, she now looked it to him. He was proud to fetch things for her that were too high up such as special dishes or books. He had also grown stronger although he did nothing to build muscles. He shrugged. Good genes, he thought.
Unlike many children at the orphanage, Noah had not technically been left there by choice and had never felt abandoned by his parents. The priests at the first orphanage had told Noah that his mother had died during childbirth, right after having naming him. He cherished his name because besides good genes, it was the only thing she had given him.
He didn’t even know her name. Either the priests hadn’t known or wouldn’t tell. He knew nothing of his father, though, and he was the real mystery. His mother had loved him enough to name him, but what of the man who had sired him? Was he dead or alive? Did he know about Noah? Why had his mother died without the comfort of her husband, the baby’s father? If he was alive, where was he now? Was he married, did he have other children?
Sighing wearily, Noah scanned the titles of the books on the shelves. He had read every one of them, at least twice. He read any genre, had really no preference; he simply wanted a book that would entertain him. He felt like he constantly needed to be stimulated but he had no idea why. Whether in conversation or by reading, cleaning or doing some crosswords puzzles. He walked a lot also, anything to keep him moving, to keep his mind active.
In the rare occasions where he stood still and let his mind wander, he felt a deep pulsing within himself. A deep-seeded urge to do something. To take action. But he didn’t know what the something was and in which way to take action. It frustrated him so much that he couldn’t figure himself out. The only reason he found for his behaviour was that he was used to living in an orphanage, surrounded by people and noise and that living with Millie was a much quieter pace. And yet, he’d been there for two years and instead of going away, the feelings were getting more pronounced.
Noah noticed a book on the top shelf that looked unfamiliar to him and he lifted his arm to take it. Either his arm was still too short or the shelf was too high; he couldn’t reach it. He rose on his tip-toes and strained his arm to its full capacity but still, he couldn’t reach.
He fisted his hands on his hips and glared at the recalcitrant book. He could easily get a step-stool to bring himself up the few inches he needed but he didn’t want to. He had gotten used to reaching everything he needed, for himself and for Millie, with his new found height and it irked him that he couldn’t reach the book.
Ridiculously, he became angry over his lack of height and his breathing hitched as he continued glaring at the book. On a conscious level, he knew his anger was unreasonable but he wasn’t being logical. He was holding on to his temper by sheer will and that thought actually made him pause. He wasn't a temperamental person, why was he reacting this way over a book?
But a deep primitive need, an urge, took over and he found himself engulfed in his anger. For some reason, he thought that if he fuelled his anger enough, he’d grow the extra inches he needed to get what he desired. He closed his eyes and let the flames of his anger lick him; he fanned them out. He focused his whole being on the book. He wanted it. He would have it. His eyes still closed, he reached forward with his left hand to grasp the shelf facing him for support. Then he lifted his arm, stretching to its full capacity.
He fanned the flames of his anger, of the very core of him and his focus went from the book to the fire inside him. He reached, reached further, until finally his outstretched fingers touched the spine of the book.
His fury subsided and relief washed over him. Suddenly feeling weak-kneed, he dropped on the carpeted floor clutching the book to his chest. A fierce pride overcame him and he breathed in deeply. He knew he wouldn’t need the stool; he could do anything he set his mind to.
* * *
“Noah? Would you have tea with me?”
Noah looked up from the book he was reading and nodded to Millie. He set his reading down and exited the library, following her through the living room into her study. Since he’d arrived here a little over two years ago, he and his adoptive mother had taken the habit of drinking tea together at night, in her study, in front of a warm fire. Sometimes they sat in silence, other times they’d talk. Either way suited Noah. He was content in this home, living this life with the woman who had chosen him amongst all the other children.
After signing the adoption papers the day Noah had decided to follow Millie, he had been surprised to learn Millie was Cameron Price’s aunt. Knowing that simply confirmed he was making the right decision. Although his brothers were complete scoundrels, Noah had always liked Mr. Price. He knew the man wouldn’t have suggested Noah leave with Millie if she were as corrupt as her nephews. And so he had left with a light heart. Soon after, Cole had equally been adopted, not far from Noah’s home, and the boys got to see each other on a regular basis. They even went to school together.
Millie was quiet as she served them both tea and added milk and sugar. As they settled down in their favourite chairs facing the fire, Noah was rapidly becoming unsettled by her silence. “Millie? What’s wrong?”
“Hmm? What?” She blinked.
He worried. Had she tired of him? Had she changed her mind? Did she want to return him to the orphanage? He could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage. If he was sent back . . . He didn’t know what would become of him. He had not reacted well to returning after Nelson’s dismissal of him. On the other hand, this situation would be worse because he had known the Myers were a trial period and Millie had assured him that wouldn’t be the case. If not . . . Why did she seem so . . . Preoccupied?
His heart in his eyes, he turned fully to the woman who has been his mother for the past two years. “Do you want me to return to the orphanage, Millie?” He hated the obvious tremors in his voice.
She blinked again. Frowned. “What are you talking about Noah? Aren’t you happy here?”
“Yes, of course I am. I just thought . . . You seem . . . Well, preoccupied and distant today. I thought maybe you wanted me to go back . . .”
“Noah, no. No. You are my son now.” She reached over and settled her old wrinkled hand on his younger one. “I have things on my mind. They do concern you but not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Then what is it that troubles you about me?”
Millie studied him for a few moments before answering. “Noah, when Cameron suggested I adopt you, he gave me your rather extensive file to read. This file included your whole past, from one orphanage to another. Every fight you’ve ever been in, every cut, scrape and bruise.”
He nodded slowly as she continued to study him. He didn’t see what could have upset Millie about his past. He had had his fair share of fights, but always he was defending a smaller child. It wasn’t as if he actually picked those fights. He looked at her expectantly and she continued.
“Things seem to happen around you. When you got into those fights –protecting your friends- when the bullies tried to pick on you, they suddenly became incapacitated. Every single time. Except for when . . .” She swallowed. “For when my nephews . . .”
Noah nodded violently. She didn’t need to finish her thought. He understood. His heart was beating hard and fast; he had always felt he was different but had never allowed himself to dwell upon it. Helping others was enough for him. He didn’t want to know the why or how of it all. But why was Millie bringing this up?
“That night, nothing happened to Alvin and Victor, but Cameron swears he heard you call into his mind.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied Noah. “You denied it but he didn’t believe you. You told him he had probably imagined it, probably felt something was wrong and had come to investigate. But, son, Cameron has never been of the intuitive kind. He is certain he heard your voice and considering you were there, with his brothers, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Then the day I adopted you. . .” She sighed. “Well, we’ve been through this already. I felt I had to meet you and it was a good thing I obeyed my intuition. Or we wouldn’t be here.” She smiled softly. “But . . . There are other things that have happened in the past weeks, since your fifteenth birthday. Sometimes you answer questions I have asked you.” When he opened his mouth, she shook her head, silently asking him not to interrupt her. “But the questions have not yet come out of my mouth. You read my thoughts, Noah!” She continued, uninterrupted. “Then two days ago, I walked into the library while you were trying to get a book on a higher shelf. You were struggling to reach for it, instead of using the step stool. Just as I was going to step forward and offer to get the stool, the book suddenly pulled out and dropped into your outstretched hand. I may be getting old, Noah, but my eyesight is still perfect.” She now studied him quietly.
Noah frowned. “No, I reached for it, I touched it. I pulled it from the shelf.” He noticed her intense stare. “Didn’t I?”
Millie slowly shook her head. “The tips of your fingers were still several inches from the shelf. The book just slowly came out, as if pulled hesitantly, then dropped into your outstretched hand.”
“Millie, I-” He stopped. What could he say? He didn’t know how to justify who he was. “
“Noah, please listen to me.” He looked up, heart still hammering. “I’m not sure I would have noticed any of this if not for my niece.” She hesitated. “I’ve told you I was raised with brothers. Well, one of them married a beautiful woman and they had a baby girl. Her name is Clarissa. We realised she was special when she started answering people’s thoughts. She could read their minds! My brother and his family were shunned by many of their friends who thought my niece to be a freak of nature but her mother said that it seemed to be a rather frequent anomaly in her family. My brother and his wife love their daughter profoundly and they chose to see her anomaly as a gift. Not everyone would be so open-minded.”
Millie took a deep breath and levelled her gaze on Noah. He had never seen her more intense or more focused. “I do not want you to defend your abilities or explain the unexplainable. You are gifted, my child. My reason for discussing this with you is not to shame or embarrass you. I only want you to realise your true potential. Maybe test your abilities and see what you can come up with. Maybe my niece’s family would help you if someone in her mother’s family is familiar with the abilities you’ve been displaying.”
“I don’t want to be different, Millie. I like helping people but not if it means being different.”
“Being different isn’t a bad thing. Look at me. It isn’t well thought of for an elderly widow to adopt a child. Do you think that stopped me? Of course not.”
“But that’s different.”
“How so?”
Noah shrugged. “It just is.”
“Just promise me to think about it? To maybe learn to expand your potential if you get the opportunity?”
Noah hesitated, and then agreed. He had learnt that Millie was a wise woman. If she thought it would be good for him to learn what secrets lurked within him, he would try to develop whatever made him different. He could do it, for Millie.
Ok, it had also been mentioned that it would be nice to know what Millie's ok with his abilities, why she's not freaking out. DOes this help?
It was nice that you waited a while between posts, though-- gave me time to catch up!