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  She didn't usually ask men out. She had never been married. Her hopes had been crushed again and again.

  "Dinner?" said Virgil, stalling for time as he continued moving through her mind.

  "Do you like Mexican?" said Bridget.

  "Oh, yes," said Virgil. He saw that she hadn't been on a date in months. She lived alone. She didn't go all the way on a first date. Usually.

  Just as he was getting ready to dive into deeper levels, the ones that mattered, the ones he based his decisions on, Bridget started walking away with the kite. "There's a Mexican place up the road, on the way to Taft. Meet me there at seven."

  Virgil hesitated, still reaching inside her mind...but his link to her became more tenuous as she walked away, and then it was cut.

  He watched her, wondering what to do, uncertain because he hadn't gotten the full details he always needed to have. The ones that disqualified every woman he met at some time or another because they showed him the full picture, the whole truth.

  The ones that kept him perpetually alone.

  So this time, at least for this moment, he was in the same boat as all the people who couldn't read minds. It was a crapshoot.

  But he liked her enough so far to take a chance. "See you there," he shouted after her. "Seven o'clock."

  "I'll be the one who looks like me," said Bridget, watching her kite. "And I answer to 'Bridget.'"

  "Nice meeting you, Bridget," said Virgil, pulling the stick out of his pocket and staring at it with fascination.

  As often as he'd gone out with women and summarily rejected them after rummaging through their minds, he was looking forward to that night. He'd really enjoyed Bridget so far; he'd always have that to remember, at least...and for now, he could savor the feeling of hope.

  Even though he knew that hope would die. It always did.

  Love is hard to come by when you're a mind reader.

  *****

  When Virgil walked into the Mexican restaurant, he knew she was there before he saw her sitting at a table. She waved at him when he looked in her direction.

  "Congratulations," she said when he walked over and pulled off his jacket. "I didn't stand you up."

  "Was it a possibility?" said Virgil.

  "That would be telling," said Bridget, smiling slyly.

  As he draped his jacket over a chair and sat down, Virgil brushed her thoughts with his mind. The truth was, she hadn't considered standing him up, though her mind twinkled with nervous excitement.

  "Help yourself," she said, gesturing at the basket of tortilla chips and the bowls of salsa and hot sauce already arranged on the table. "I confess, I've had a few already."

  True. He saw in her mind that she ate when nervous...but not enough to put on much weight. "Don't mind if I do," he said, reaching for a chip.

  "So," said Bridget, leaning her chin in her hand. "Tell me about myself."

  Virgil paused with the chip above the salsa and met her gaze. For an instant, he wondered if she had a hidden talent of her own, if she could somehow detect his telepathic intrusions.

  But no. A quick skim of her thoughts told him she was just being clever and spontaneous. A deeper dip revealed that she was like that a lot.

  He smiled. "Well, all right," he said, lowering the chip and scooping salsa onto it. "Let's see now."

  As he considered his next words, he realized how much more fun this date was so far than what he had anticipated. Usually, the "getting to know you" phase was pretty tedious for him, because he already knew everything about his date from her mind and had to pretend that he was just finding things out as she told him. This time, his date wanted to play a game instead of cutting right to the traditional question and answer session.

  He pulled his mind back most of the way, trying to avoid much contact with her thoughts while he improvised. He kept in touch just enough to gauge her reactions to what he said.

  "You like the outdoors," he said, biting a

  salsa-covered corner from his chip.

  "What about when it's raining?" said Bridget, raising her dark eyebrows.

  "You're a rain fan," said Virgil, nodding. "No umbrella necessary."

  "Very perceptive," said Bridget. "What else about me?"

  Virgil crunched the rest of his chip, reached for another. "You wish you could fly," he said. "But not fly away."

  "True," said Bridget. "Lincoln City's my favorite home ever."

  "You've been in a number of major Hollywood films," said Virgil. "But only nominated once for the Academy Award."

  "Darn that academy," said Bridget, dipping and eating a chip.

  "And," said Virgil, pausing dramatically. "You've been saving this Mexican place for your first date with the ultimate man."

  Bridget smirked. "But I figured if I kept waiting, I'd never get to eat here again."

  "Flattery will get you everywhere," said Virgil with a smirk of his own. "Now tell me about me."

  "Hm," said Bridget, staring into his eyes. She'd undone her pigtails for tonight, and she reached back to play with her hair, pulling it up and letting it fall against her neck. "Where to begin."

  Virgil brushed her mind enough to tell she was enjoying this. "There's so much to tell, isn't there?"

  "First off," said Bridget, "you're not from around here."

  He smiled. "That's right. And since you know me so well, you must know where I'm from."

  She squinted at him. "Las Vegas," she said, nodding.

  It was a good thing the waiter came around at that moment. Otherwise, if she had just kept staring at him, Virgil would have had trouble concealing his shock.

  She'd gotten it right on the first guess.

  That was what it was, he was sure of it from scanning her thoughts...but he was stunned that she had pegged it so fast. Just like that, out of the blue, she had come up with the right answer.

  As she ordered, he watched her face, wondering how she'd guessed it. He didn't think he'd given her any clues, but maybe he'd tipped her off without realizing it. Maybe he had some trace of an accent, or used some local idiom that she recognized.

  The waiter turned to him, and Virgil placed his own order. As he handed over the menu, he reached out to Bridget with his mind, searching the sea of sparks for an explanation.

  But there wasn't any. As far as he could tell, she'd just made a lucky guess.

  As the waiter walked away, she focused her attention on Virgil once more. "You make your living in gambling," she said, pointing an index finger at him.

  Right again. What better way for a mind reader to make a living than playing high stakes poker, always knowing what cards opponents held and what they planned to do with them?

  This time, her guess didn't faze him as much as the first had. Knowing he was from Vegas, it wasn't such a great leap to guess he gambled. "Tell me more," he said.

  Again, Bridget squinted at him, lifting her hair, letting it fall. "You have heart trouble," she said.

  Virgil tried very hard not to let on that she had shaken him. He squirmed under her gaze, combing his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.

  How? How could she know?

  "Yes," he said, nodding. Three months ago, a heart attack had laid him out in the middle of a poker game. Now, flexible mesh tubing held two of his blocked arteries open.

  But how could she know?

  As their food arrived, he went back into her mind...this time, plunging deep. He combed through level after level, probing for something he had missed or she had hidden, something that would tell him how she had zeroed in on his heart trouble.

  Everywhere, the answer was the same: she had made a lucky guess. She had always been lucky.

  Virgil went deeper still...and still, could not find the insight he wanted. Instead, he found other things.

  She was needy. She was lonely. A well of unhappiness lurked at the core of her, and sometimes it spilled over and hurt those closest to her.

  She had tried to kill herself twice. It had happened long ag
o, but it had happened.

  All these things were enough to disqualify her from playing a role in his future. He had rejected many women for much less than that, trying to avoid complications and the worry that past precedents would lead to future actions.

  He let himself drift, casting his net further, seeking more.

  And then, he stopped dead. An image flared up from a shower of sparks, and he focused on it alone. It was bold and bright and startling, and it flowed into him like cold, rushing water.

  It was an image of him, sitting in the Mexican restaurant just as he was, as seen through her eyes. But he was not alone.

  A tall figure stood behind him, a glowing, pale-skinned man with fiery, upswept eyes. His long, silver hair cascaded over high, tapered ears, flowed over the front and back of his glittering tunic. His slender body suggested grace, not strength, but he stood proudly, shoulders squared, jaw set. He looked unearthly, grand, lithe, confident, magical.

  And he was right there. Bridget saw him clearly.

  As he peered into her vision, Virgil felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He swung his head around to look behind him.

  Nothing there.

  The space behind his chair was empty. The only people he saw were the two guys looking back at him as he stared.

  "Hey," said Bridget as he turned back around. "Looking for something?"

  "I just thought..." said Virgil, and then he stopped. Frowning, he bounced back into her mind, flitting through the sparking chaos in search of the image he'd glimpsed...but he couldn't find it. "I thought there was somebody back there."

  For an instant, just an instant, a funny look crossed her face. Her eyes glinted and she tipped her head to one side. Then, she grinned. "Oh, that was me," she said. "I have the power of super-speed. Over and back in a

  split-second."

  Virgil swam through her mind some more, but found nothing. He pulled back. "Is that why half my burrito is missing, and I don't remember eating it?" he said with a smile.

  "Nope," said Bridget, forking up some rice. "That guy at the next table did it when you weren't looking."

  "Then I'd better eat the rest before he gets it." Virgil laughed, but his mind was elsewhere. He kept remembering the image of the glowing figure with the silver hair, so ethereal, so convincingly distinct.

  He had been through enough minds to recognize daydreams, and this wasn't a daydream. She had seen it, vivid and solid as a red kite in a blue sky.

  Maybe that was the special talent that set her apart, that made her extraordinary. Instead of reading minds, maybe she could see things that he didn't even know were there.

  Whatever the truth of it, he was intrigued. On his forays into her mind, he had ferreted out the kind of danger signs that would drive him away...but now, they were forgotten. She was needy, she was lonely, she was troubled, so what.

  She was a mystery he could not yet fathom, and that was enough to inspire him to ask her for a second date.

  If she hadn't beaten him to it.

  "You have a problem with birds?" she said, putting down her fork after finishing her food.

  Virgil laughed. "They're my fine feathered friends," he said.

  "What about being watched by birds?"

  "They can watch all they want," he said.

  "Because when we go bird watching, they'll be watching us, too," said Bridget. "You're not bird shy, are you?"

  "Definitely a bird extrovert," said Virgil.

  "Great," said Bridget, nodding conclusively. "Meet me here tomorrow, and bring your eyes."

  Virgil was glad she'd given him a reason to see her again so soon. He wanted to dig deeper in her mind and try to work out if she had some kind of extra-normal ability.

  Plus, he liked her more and more with every passing moment.

  "Bird watching it is," he said.

  *****

  At a cue from the guide, everyone crowded to one side of the boat. Less than a hundred yards away, the glossy dark back of a whale rose from the waves.

  Suddenly, a plume of spray geysered up from the creature's blowhole, shooting into the bright blue sky with an explosive whoosh. Everyone at the boat's railing cried out with delight, pointed fingers, snapped camera shutters.

  Virgil couldn't wipe the smile off his face, but not so much because of the sight of the great beast sending up a fountain of spume. His enjoyment came mostly from the woman at his side, and the fact that she continued to surprise him. Him, the mind reader who was never surprised.

  When she'd offered to go bird watching with him, she'd meant whale watching. Sort of.

  "Oh, look at that!" she said, pointing into the air. "What a beautiful gull!"

  Virgil laughed. "Oh, yeah," he said, leaning against her arm. "Look at the coloration on its wings."

  Several people followed their gaze, shading eyes against the bright sunlight...then uniformly frowned, shook their heads, and looked back down at the whale.

  Bridget raised her binoculars to her eyes and trained them on the distant, gliding bird. "Spectacular," she said. "I just hope these dumb whales don't knock it out of the air with their sprays."

  "Some mammals can be so inconsiderate," said Virgil, watching her. As she dropped the binoculars and looked back at him, he was struck by the brightness of her eyes, the flush of color in her wind-blown cheeks. Her hair was back in pigtails, and she wore a red ball cap that looked incredibly cute on her.

  "If we get close enough to those rocks over there," she said, pointing to a cluster of outcroppings a half mile or so distant, "maybe a puffin will see us. I love puffins."

  "I've never seen one up close," said Virgil.

  With a serious look on her face, Bridget jabbed a finger at his chest. "Just remember," she said. "We're not here to watch the birds."

  "We're here for them to watch us," said Virgil, nodding. "Got it."

  Bridget raised the binoculars again and moved them back and forth, scanning the sky. When the nearby whale rolled back under the surface of the water and flipped its tail in the air, evoking cheers from the crowd, she didn't even look at it.

  Virgil got the biggest kick out of her.

  "Look!" she said, and he turned toward the patch of sky she was observing. "A pelican!"

  Several people looked up at the same time, then quickly looked away. Virgil was amused, as he brushed over their minds, to feel their disinterest and annoyance. They thought she was nuts, and some of them wished she would get away from them.

  Not Virgil. He wanted her as close to him as possible. To be perfectly honest, he had never in his life felt such a strong attraction to somebody; his mind reading had always gotten in the way.

  This time was different. He could not get enough of being around her.

  "It's a brown pelican," she said breathlessly, following the great bird as it soared over the sparkling blue water. "He's watching us! We did it!"

  "I wonder what he thinks of us," said Virgil.

  "He's glad we're here," said Bridget. "People feed fish, and fish feed pelicans."

  As Virgil watched, the pelican swept in a circle, angling on one wing. Then, suddenly, the bird tucked in its wings and shot downward, firing into the water with a splash.

  Bridget followed the bird's dive with her binoculars. "Dinner time!" she said. "Today's special is seafood."

  The pelican surfaced, the pouch of its beak bulging, and sat atop the rolling waves. "Looks like he got take-out," said Virgil as the bird spread its wings and flapped back into the air.

  Bridget didn't answer. Looking over, Virgil saw that she had redirected the binoculars to another spot.

  When he looked at the same spot, he saw nothing but water. A whale frolicked off to one side, some distance away, but the space she was watching seemed void of activity.

  Extending his mind, he lightly touched her own, trying to find out what had gotten her attention. At first, he caught no impression connected to what she was seeing...and then, like a gulp of warm wine, a startling image r
ushed into him.

  In the same patch of ocean that he thought was empty, she saw a trio of bobbing figures, glittering in the sunlight. Three young women with alabaster skin, faces cherubic and glistening.

  One had blonde hair, one brown, one red. Their hair was twined with strands of gossamer seaweed, their breasts were covered by scallop shells.

  As he lingered on the vision, he saw one of the women lie back, revealing a gleaming, emerald tail. She flipped it up, trailing streams of seawater, waving the finned tip lazily in his direction.

  Mermaids. She saw mermaids.

  Tethering his mind to the vision, he spoke to her. "What do you see out there?"

  As she lowered the binoculars and turned to him, he saw the vision rotate. Looking through her eyes, he saw himself, looking at her. "I thought I saw a cormorant off in the distance," she said.

  "Was it watching us?" said Virgil, watching himself smiling in her mind's eye.

  "Not yet," said Bridget. "Maybe if I act like a fish."

  Then, she turned back to the sea and raised the binoculars. The vision turned with her, sliding away from him and back out to the water...and the mermaids appeared again.

  He watched them, splashing their tails and giggling in the sunlight, lovely and strange. Cupping the vision in his mind like a snow globe, he gazed into it, feeling it, testing it.

  And as far as he could tell, Bridget really saw it. Nothing about it seemed dreamlike or hallucinatory. It had all the substance and persistence of reality.

  Slipping out of the depths of her mind, he looked again at the patch of ocean. Nothing there.

  Again, he wondered if the only reality he had seen was what he'd glimpsed in Bridget's mind's eye.

  *****

  That night, they gathered driftwood on the beach and built a bonfire. They'd gathered mussels from tidepools at Roads End Wayside, and they cooked them in a kettle she'd brought.