The Seer

By Martha Harris

Bobbi Wheeler is a psychologist who uses her abilities to help her patients deal with depression and grief. This ability to know her patients' history and inner thoughts through a simple "touch" is the reason behind her successful therapy sessions with her clients. She does not always think of this as a gift however as she sometimes sees death and is helpless to do anything about it. At these times she usually finds going to the ocean helps her to come to terms with the turmoil she feels inside.

During one of these trips to the ocean she meets Lance Wolfe, a nonbeliever in psychics and a widower who blames himself for the car accident that caused the death of his wife. His guilt hinders him from loving another woman again, though Bobbi finds herself falling in love with him. Her feelings for a man unable to love again is only part of he worries as, on one of her trips to the ocean, she is accidentally touched by a man who murders couples, which Bobbi dreams about as it happens.

Somehow, Bobbi and the murderer, are psychically connected. When she involves the police in her visions of his carnage, he only has one thing on his mind - killing her. Just when she thinks she knows who he is, she discovers she is dead wrong!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499067873

Martha Harris

Martha Harris was born and raised on the East Coast. She moved to the West Coast over 30 years ago where she raised her five children. Martha has been trained as a CNA on both coasts, went to college for a degree as a COTA and has worked in geriatrics and with the developmentally delayed populations.

Book preview

THE SEER

Martha Harris

Copyright © 2014 by Martha Harris.

ISBN:                 Softcover                           978-1-4990-6788-0

                     eBook                                978-1-4990-6787-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 08/29/2014

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

633830

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINTEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER ONE

Bobbi Wheeler drove for hours to get to the place that always made her feel better. For as long as she could remember the ocean was the only place that let her forget her problems and calmed the turmoil that occasionally raged within her. There was just something about hearing the roar of the ocean, watching the waves rolling in and eventually walking along the beach, letting them wash over her feet and hit against her legs. It seemed with each wave a little more of her inner chaos ebbed away until finally she was at peace once again.

Arriving at her destination, Bobbi didn’t waste any time parking her car, taking her shoes off, rolling up her pant legs, and getting to the beach. It was late afternoon and though she would have preferred to spend the whole day there, feeling she’d need at least that long, a few hours was better than nothing. Her day had been worse than most.

As a counselor for people dealing with depression and grief. Bobbi could generally walk away from her work day knowing she had helped them come to terms with their emotions, or at least put them on the right path to that end and knew they’d be all right. That day, however, she had counseled a woman who had known excruciating pain and loss in her life.

This woman had lost her husband some years ago when her two children were young. Of her two children, her son had fought, and died, in the Viet Nam war. The remaining child, her daughter, had recently been in a car accident and after months in a coma, had finally passed away. The woman was on the edge, distraught. Though she had assured her that her family was at peace, which helped minutely, it hadn’t been enough.

As the woman had said, she had nothing to lose and nothing left to live for. Often the people she worked with felt they couldn’t go on, and even thought about ending their lives. Though they meant it at the time, they managed to get over that hump and go on with their lives. Bobbi feared her last client of the day would do more than think about it.

Bobbi climbed to the small summit overlooking the beach. She thought of her meeting with this woman, the knowledge she had of this woman’s mental instability at the moment, knowing there was nothing she could do beyond contacting family and having them watch her. Soon, just watching the waves roll in, hearing the roar they made, wasn’t enough. She walked down to the waters edge and let the water lap at her feet, retreat and come back again to slowly take her inner agitation with it.

She walked until there were no more people, until the sounds of the ocean drown out the noise of them. In the silence Bobbi turned to face the ocean, watching the waves come toward her, feeling them hitting her legs. She stood there for a long time, both mesmerized and deep in thought, at the same time.

She had become a counselor because she loved to help people…and because she knew she could. She had often heard people refer to her as the best. She supposed she was better than average, not because she was smarter or more compassionate, but because she had a gift. Her first clear memory of this gift was when she was about seven years old and was spending the summer with her grandparents. For reasons beyond her comprehension at the time, she had suddenly left her dolls, walked over to where her grandfather sat and placed a hand on his arm.

The room disappeared, replaced by a short motion picture in her mind. She saw her grandfather standing in the woodshed. One hand gripping the handle of an ax, the other clutched to his chest, raw fear on his face. She tried to remove her hand from his arm, but couldn’t. It was melded there as she watched him crumple to the ground, his eyes staring straight up at nothing, dead.

Bobbi had clung to him after the dream, as she thought of it. She didn’t tell anyone, not knowing what to say anyway. Instead she tried to go everywhere with him, to be constantly by his side. Somehow she thought she could prevent what she saw from happening if she was there. She hadn’t been there in the dream and she wasn’t there that early morning when he went to chop wood.

Usually Bobbi was up early with her grandparents helping her grandmother cook breakfast. That morning started out the same, except when she came downstairs her grandfather wasn’t in the house. She asked where he was and was told he was in the woodshed.

She knew it was over as she slowly went out to where he was. As she did in the dream, she knelt beside him, closed his eyes and held his hand to her cheek. Her calmness surprised her, even at her young age. Bobbi went back to the house, flatly stating that Grampa was dead.

Her grandmother realized what had happened when Bobbi refused to touch, or be touched, by anyone after that. She had called it a gift, though Bobbi didn’t see it that way. To her, something that showed death wasn’t a gift, but a curse. She lived in fear of coming in contact with someone and seeing their death also. Until quite by accident, a stranger brushed against her. To Bobbi’s surprise she hadn’t seen death, but life. In the woman who had touched her she had seen an unborn child.

From then on Bobbi came to realize that strong emotions or prevalent things going on within the body, both happy and sad, brought out her dreams. Over the years she had honed her gift, being able to see things in someone’s past or future, if the emotion or the inner body reaction was, or would be, strong enough.

She was also able to tell what someone was thinking if they were thinking it when she touched them, or know personal things about that person. For these she had to will herself to see it. Bobbi refrained from doing it though, unless she felt there was a need to know something about the person…something they wouldn’t willingly offer to tell her.

Bobbi’s latest discovery about herself were dreams. Not the gift dreams. But dreams that came to her, dreams of things she could do nothing about, sometimes of people she hadn’t even met, but who had touched her inadvertently. These dreams were never pleasant, they were of physical pain, death, or both.

She’d know it at the time of being touched. Then she’d try to warn that person, usually to no avail as they thought her to be crazy. Then, shortly afterward, she’d dream of what she told that person, or knew of them. After several dreams, paying close attention to the time when she woke, screaming and sweating, she found later it had happened as she dreamed. She saw it, in all it’s grisly details, and could do nothing about it.

Bobbi turned, walking along as the waves rolled over her feet, splashing her legs and rolling back again. A movement caught her attention. Glancing up she saw a dog bounding toward her. A short distance behind a man followed. Not wanting human contact just yet she tried to ignore both dog and man. Neither would let her. The dog stopped in front of her, jumping around as though greeting an old friend. She patted his head.

Hi baby. She patted the dog, who still seemed happy to see her.

The man, now closer, called to the dog. The sound of the waves prevented her from hearing what he had said, but the dog bounded off to him, then back to her. Bobbi continued patting the dog, now leaning against her leg, as the man approached. The closer he became, the more Bobbi could observe him.

He was tall, she guessed about six feet. The wind blew his dark hair across his forehead, giving him a boyish look. He wore a white shirt loosely tucked into white pants. The shirt was half buttoned, sleeves rolled up to just below the elbows, showing well tanned forearms and chest to match his equally tanned face. His hands were casually resting in the pants pockets, his feet were bare.

Bobbi realized, too late, she had been looking him up and down. When he stopped in front of her she was looking into hazel eyes that were more blue, tinged with gray at the moment. She had hoped to avoid talking to him, and should have ignored the dog, letting them both go on their way. Being too late for that she moved a wind blown strand of hair out of her face, noticing the man’s face was somewhat drawn, forlorn.

Are you okay Miss? He asked, surprising her, as she was wondering the same thing about him.

Yes, why? Came her answer with a slightly knotted brow. The dog ran off chasing seagulls on the beach.

You were looking rather lost as you stared out at the ocean. He searched her eyes for truth.

It took her a minute to realize he thought she was contemplating suicide. That realization shocked her. She looked him directly in the eye.

Good heavens no! Removing another strand of hair blown across her face, she explained. I had a particularly rough day at work and the ocean always seems to make me feel better.

The dog came bouncing back, leaning heavily against her legs. She squatted down playfully rubbing it’s ears as he licked her face.

Thank for the bath baby!

His name is Charlie. There was irritation in his voice. She looked up at him, then back to Charlie.

You naughty dog…you told me it was Baby. She ruffled his fur.

He told you? What are you, psychic or something? he asked with a touch of sarcasm. She looked up at him, a faint smile on her face.

Something like that.

In truth she had gotten the name when she first patted the dog, though she had called him that automatically, as she did with most animals at first.

May I test you? Now he sounded unsure as to whether she was joking with him.

A skeptic I see. She smiled at him. Test away.

What’s my name? A half smile played on his lips.

Bobbi returned the smile, reaching a hand up for him to help her to her feet. In doing so she got images and a sense of what kind of person he was.

I don’t know about a name, but I think I know where you’re from. Are you originally from Texas? I get the word Houston and a lone wolf.

No, His face clouded over, then cleared as he gave a short laugh. My name is Lance and I haven’t even been to Texas.

Then I must be a fake. Bobbi smiled, making no excuses for herself. Still she wondered about the images. Changing the subject she added: Is it always so quiet on this stretch of beach?

Usually.

Must be too far for people to walk.

No, it’s a private beach.

It is? She followed his nod toward a sign some yards away, then looked back at him. I’m sorry, I was deep in thought and didn’t see it.

I didn’t think so. He hesitated. Shall we walk along Roberta?

At first Bobbi was dismayed when he called her by that name, then she remembered she was still wearing her name tag from work and he must have presumed Bobbi was short for Roberta.

Ah, you must be psychic then? Her grin challenged him.

I didn’t mention that? He grinned back, playing along as they fell into step.

No, but if you were any good at it, you’d know Bobbi isn’t short for Roberta, in my case anyway.

Now we both know I’m not any good at it. He chuckled, then nodded toward some steps leading up to a house. Let’s get something cool to drink?

Bobbi took his arm, making it appear to be a natural gesture. There was nothing there besides the offer for a cool drink and curiosity. She allowed him to steer her toward the steps.

I’d like that, thank you Lance.

Charlie raced up the steps ahead of them. Bobbi pondered the questions she had, wondering if she should bring it up at all. Finally deciding it wouldn’t hurt anything, she asked it.

Do you believe there are people who really are psychic?

Quite recently something happened to make me doubt my conviction that they were all fakes. They reached the deck at the top of the stairs. Bobbi released his arm, stopping at the railing. I’ll be right back.

Lance disappeared inside the house. Bobbi sat on the bench built along the railing, patting and talking to Charlie while she waited. Within minutes he returned, handing her a glass of iced tea.

Thank you. She took the glass he offered. What made you doubt your beliefs?

Lance sat down next to her, took a sip of his tea, watching her pat Charlie for a second.

My wife used to call him Baby, just like you did.

Really? She didn’t think that was his answer.

Though I have never been to Texas, my first name is Houston. My middle name is Lance, which I prefer to be called. He was now looking directly at her.

What about the lone wolf? Texas is the Lone Star state. The images she had seen were beginning to make sense to her now.

It is. My last name is Wolfe.

Ah, perhaps I’m not a fake after all then. She hoped he would take it all as a joke and a big coincidence as she grinned at him.

Perhaps not." Lance stood, turning away from her and looked out over the ocean.

CHAPTER TWO

Bobbi waited in silence, sipping her tea. It was only natural Lance would be bothered. He was unwilling to accept her abilities, having been a firm believer that such people didn’t exist. Unless she missed her guess, he was trying to rationalize what she had said so far. Finally he turned to her, putting one foot on the bench.

Do you make money doing…that? His voice held a discernible edge to it.

No. She looked up at him. He was trying to find something wrong. Not very many people know about it in fact.

What do you do for work? Her answer surprised him and it showed.

I counsel grief-stricken and depressed people. Usually those having recently lost a loved one and are finding it hard, or impossible, adjusting to their loss.

You don’t use…that…your…on them? He gave up trying to find the right word.

Yes, sometimes, but they aren’t aware of it. She watched his face as he stared above her head into the distance. Finally he looked at her.

I’m curious… Lance trailed off, unsure how to complete his sentence.

"And you aren’t sure if you believe me or not. She finished for him.

True, He conceded. but I didn’t want to ask you to prove it again.

Okay Lance, She stood facing him, placing a hand on his forearm. think of a color, concentrate on it.

A blur of colors swept through her before he settled on something. She tipped her head to one side, knowing what he had picked…and what he had thought immediately afterward. She smiled at him, blushing slightly.

Isn’t sky blue-pink an odd color? She hesitated. And, you’re not too bad yourself.. It was his turn to blush for he had picked sky blue-pink, then fleetingly thought how pretty she was.

All right, if you know what people are thinking, doesn’t it get confusing when you’re in a crowd? An eyebrow raised quizzically at her.

No, Bobbi laughed. I don’t hear people thinking as they walk around. I do it selectively and only when I feel there is a need to. Sometimes it does happen by accident though. Anything else would be an invasion of privacy. She removed her hand from his arm.

Do you answer them before they speak? He was half teasing her.

No, but I might answer the question they weren’t sure about asking. She paused. Like…I’m not listening to what you’re thinking any more.

I can see I have to be careful around you! He smiled at her as he had been wondering if she knew what he had been thinking all along. So, you can do this at will?

Yes,. And no. Some things I can, if the conditions are right. Other times it happens by accident, and still other times it’s quite unbidden and intrusive.

Can you…will you…tell me…explain it to me? Lance had become quite serious.

I can, Bobbi gave a small sigh. if you really want to know.

"I do. Why wouldn’t I? He asked placing a hand on her shoulder.

Because of the reaction, I suppose. She glanced at him.

Like what? His expression showed he didn’t understand.

I do it through touch. As she guessed he immediately removed his hand. Like that.

I’m sorry. he apologized putting his hand back, though not quite as firmly.

It’s a natural reaction. She shrugged to let him know it didn’t bother her. Now, let me assure you I will only do it if you want me to. The only time I can’t shut it off is when strong emotions, something that has recently or will shortly happen of a serious nature, or inner body reactions are present. Those upset the natural flow of things and seem to jump out at me, even when I’m touched accidentally.

"What are inner body reactions? He asked, confused.

Things that change the body’s natural balance. Pregnancy, bad organs, something unnatural in the blood…things like that.

What about the immediate past or future things? He asked curiously as he sat down beside her.

The past things are strong emotions still lingering. The present or future things are usually horrible things like knowing someone has cancer before they do, or that they’ll get…hurt…killed…die…in some way or other. I usually can’t help them. She really didn’t want to talk about it.

Like a car accident or murder? he asked incredulously. Why can’t you help them?

Most of them don’t listen to me. I guess they think I’m crazy. So far, all of them I dream about as it’s happening, usually within the same day. I don’t like to think about it…can we please change the subject? She pleaded with him with moist eyes.

Yes, of course, I’m sorry. He eyed her for a moment. What made today a rough day?

I was helping a woman who had just lost her daughter after being in a coma for months. Bobbi explained. That was bad enough, but I knew there was more. I took her hand to console her and found her daughter was all she had left. She had lost her husband and her son already and she feels she has lost everything, with nothing else to live for. No amount of talking helped. She’s going to attempt suicide and she’ll succeed if she isn’t stopped in time.

You…saw that?

Yes. I can only hope, because I didn’t see the end, she isn’t successful. I am rather dreading the thought of sleeping tonight. She looked at her watch. Speaking of which, I ought to get going. It’s a long drive back.

May I walk you to your car?

Yes, I’d like that Lance.

He and Bobbi walked down the steps to the beach with Charlie trotting along in front of them. For a few yards neither said anything. Bobbi had a hunch he wanted to ask her something. She was tempted to touch him, but decided he would ask in his own good time, if he wanted to. Unable to stand it any longer she broke the silence.

How long have you lived here Lance?

Almost two years. It had taken him a few seconds to answer, then when he did she could hear sadness in his voice.

I’m a good listener, if you want to talk about whatever is bothering you. Lance stopped and looked at her for a minute, then continued walking.

It’s just something I’m learning to deal with. They walked along. Can I ask you something Bobbi?

Of course. She waited another few minutes.

Can you tell what’s in store for yourself?

No, only other people. She knew he was building up to asking something else. She waited patiently.

Can you tell anything by touching objects…like personal belongings? He spoke slowly, but she could tell he was anxious for an answer.

Sometimes. Bobbi answered cautiously, wondering what he was leading up to.

What are the conditions for it to work? He was making himself speak casually.

Extremely strong emotions, something recently touched or worn by the person.

She felt Lance was on the verge of asking her more on the subject. Not just information, but a request. As they turned to walk up the incline to the parking lot he started to say something a couple of times, then stopped. By the time they were standing outside her car he had changed his mind all together.

Whenever you need a walk along the beach, mine will always be available. He offered.

Thank you Lance, I’ll keep that in mind. Bobbi smiled up at him, genuinely pleased by his offer.

If you’d like to, you can even come up to visit Charlie and me. He took one of her hands, holding it firmly in both of his. I really enjoyed our conversation today.

When her hand touched his she got fleeting intense images. She felt his inner turmoil, saw a woman with the beauty of a Greek goddess. She heard the name Allison, saw a casket, then felt Lance’s deep loneliness. This all took place in a split second, which was fast enough for her to collect her wits, and reply without showing anything of what she had seen, felt and heard.

I enjoyed it also. You are the only person, besides my grandmother, whom I can talk to like this. It was interesting seeing your reactions and hearing your questions.

I hope I didn’t embarrass myself too much! He suddenly seemed disconcerted with his part of their conversation.

Not at all! Everything you were curious about was only natural. How else were you to know the answers, or even try to understand?

I suppose. He took notice of the early evening light. I had better let you go so you can get back before dark.

There’s no chance of that, I won’t be home until eleven or so. She shrugged opening the car door and getting in. Lance held the door open and bent down toward her, a minute smile on his lips as he glanced at her name tag, then at her.

Drive carefully. He shut the door.

I will. Good night Lance. Charlie jumped up on the door, sticking his head through the window. And good night to you Bab…Charlie!

Bobbi backed around to face the exit, waved and drove away as Lance and Charlie stood there watching until she was out of sight. She smiled to herself because she knew what he had been up to. She had even helped him out. Lance now knew she lived roughly two hours away and, by glancing at her name tag once more to make sure he had it right, he also knew where she worked, as the name of the hospital branch was printed under her name.

She knew she would see him again. Remembering the subject he had never brought up as he walked her to the car, and the images she had gotten when he took her hand,

Reviews for The Seer

[mattidw · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I didn't think that I would be able to get into this book but once I started reading it I couldn't put it down. I loved the characters in this book. The author did a good job at making the characters relate able and easy liked. She also did a good job at capturing human emotions with the things the characters went through. I loved the ending and was actually sad that the book was so short. I really did fall in love with the characters and I also loved how to she told what happened to each of the characters over the years. I don't usually read books over again but this one that I am sure I will read again and keep because it was such a great book. If you are looking for a great mystery book with a love story thrown in than this is the book for you!

***FTC- I received a complimentary copy of (Book Title) as a member of the Dorrance Publishing Book Review Team. Visit dorrancebookstore.com to learn how you can become a member of the Book Review Team. The opinions expressed in this review are mine and only mine.

[reviewsbymolly · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I was quite pleasantly surprised at how well I enjoyed Martha Harris' story. It took me a few pages to really get into it, for the beginning seemed to drag, but before the first chapter was complete, I was hooked. I really could feel myself "seeing" things through Bobbi's eyes. It was wild ride for sure! What would you do if you could "see" things by touching someone, or dreaming the demise of people? Through Ms. Harris' talented skills, the reader can do just that through Bobbi's eyes. But, it's a race against time when Bobbi tries to stop a murder that she dreamed about from happening. Especially when Tobias, her new patient and killer, comes after her. Lance Wolfe, an unbeliever in psychics and a widower is quickly attracted to the beautiful Bobbi. It's through meeting her that he questions is skepticism in believing, but he finds him self unable to love her. His wife died, and it's because of him....or so he blames himself. When Bobbi and Lance find themselves able to speak through their minds to each other, they find out they have more in common than they thought. Can Lance move on from his past and fully envelope these feelings he has for Bobbi before it's too late? This was a fast paced, quick read, and one that I would definitely recommend if you enjoy those "above the normal" stories. The characters are complex and the 4 Book worthy plot line will hook you until the end! This review originated at Reviews By Molly as part of the Dorrance Book Review Team program.