“I want to try,” she insisted, determination in her voice.
He shrugged. “Okay, you focus on a book you want to pull off the shelf, and I’ll try to help you.”
He watched her turn toward the shelves and look at the titles. “There’s a paperback of theWizard of Oz.That would be appropriate.”
“You liked it when you were a kid?” he asked.
“Yes. Did you?”
“I liked any books that took me away from the real world.”
“Well, that’s something we have in common.”
She walked to the shelves, found the book and pulled it a little way out of line so they could both see it. Then she returned to her seat on the sofa and focused on the title. He could see the deep concentration on her face as she struggled to make something happen, and he tried to help her, giving her what he thought of as extra power. But there was no effect.
He saw sweat break out on her forehead and knew she was working as hard as she could, even though she wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing. He kept up the effort to help her, but the effect was the same. Nothing.
She dragged in several breaths and sharpened her features, looking defiantly at him before turning back to the bookshelf.
Again he tried to help her, but it was clear she was only exhausting herself.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “We might be able to do it if we were touching. That was the way Sam and I started out.”
“If we touch, we won’t end up focused on books.”
He sighed. “You’re probably right.”
She took her lower lip between her teeth and then released it. “So why did we . . . open up to each other when we touched?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about you and Sam?”
“We always had it—whatever it is.”
“I didn’t. I didn’t have anyone.”
He heard the pain in her voice and asked the question that had been in his mind since he’d first seen her at the reception. “Did you always feel alone—like other people could connect with each other, but you couldn’t?”
Her face contorted. “Yes,” she whispered, and he knew it wasn’t something she was sharing easily.
“I’m sorry.”
“You knew there was something better.”
He nodded.
“Did you have it with anyone besides Sam.”
“No.”
“Then the big question is—why us?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Stephanie waited for Craig’s answer.
“There must be something we have in common.” He shifted in his seat. “We might find out what it is if we touch each other again.”
