Belinda: Chapter 8

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"It's good that she is thinking about eating," Michael said.

We got into the elevator quickly.

"The Bensons will enter the emergency ward momentarily, and we should try to get to them before they head upstairs," he added.

Michael had the ability of foresight. He knew what was just about to happen before it did. Very few immortals had this gift. Of course he could also read minds, but he used this skill sparingly. He held people's privacy in the highest regard.

"Michael," I said quietly, "I am glad you are here. I am sorry about my greeting in Nauru. I thought you were coming to...well you know—"

"I understand, Belinda," he interrupted. "You are at a very important crossroads in your immortal life, which you have not yet articulated. Things will become clearer once you have drunk the revelation elixir and go back."

"Surely you don't expect me to do that now?" I asked a little exasperated. He had to understand that I could not leave Damien and his family while they were in the midst of a crisis.

"Here they are," he announced ignoring my question. The elevator doors opened right beside the emergency room entrance. The Bensons were coming through the wide doors looking rushed and worried.

"Dad, Sylvia," I called out, turning my attention to the two people who had given me some normalcy for the first time in my long, long life.

"Belinda!" Kevin Benson called out. He ran to me and gave me a big hug. "Difficult day for you and the Garants," he said.

Sylvia rushed over to where Michael was and began asking him about Mr. Garant's condition, looking over at me every few seconds to give me a nod of support.

"Belinda and I were just going out to get the Garants some food. Would you like to come with us?" Michael asked the Bensons.

After they agreed to join us, Michael insisted that we take his car—a large black Mercedes. It had ample room for four adults. I sat in the back seat with Sylvia who wore a cream pantsuit with a blush pink camisole and stylish gold sandals that showed off her new pedicure. Her long and wavy chestnut hair was loose and sat elegantly on her shoulders.

"Sylvia, you look beautiful this evening," I said.

"It is for your graduation," she said sadly. "I am sorry, Belinda, that you will not be able to attend the ceremony."

"I know, but Damien and his family mean more to me, and I need to be with them," I said.

"This must be so difficult for Wilma and Damien, not knowing what is going to happen—" Sylvia's voice broke off.

"It is, but they both have a lot of strength," I said reassuringly.

Sylvia cast her gaze out the window and grew quiet.

Michael honked his car horn at a pedestrian who had ventured across the street on a red light. The loud sound gave both Sylvia and I a start.

"It's okay," Michael told us after Sylvia let out a gasp. "Not to worry. Everyone is fine."

Sylvia sat back in her seat and took a deep and calming breath.

This is what we did—Michael and I—we reassured people, calmed them down. And when we were in the field we showed them how they could heal themselves. But we couldn't save Mr. Garant. We were not allowed to cross certain lines. We had the power to make him well, but we couldn't use it. After all of my training as an immortal healer, I had to admit that the Group's prime directive just plan sucked under the circumstances.

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