Page 6 of Stranger Gifts

“Another story,” said Adam.

About eighteen years ago…

“Are you alright? Can I give you a hand?” he asked. Fiona craned her neck looking up at the rain-soaked stranger. His black hair plastered to his head, his blue eyes glowing in the streetlight. She looked down at his hand and back up at him.

Gingerly, she took the masculine hand and he easily lifted her to her feet. Her backside was soaked through, her hands stinging and burning from the concrete. She wiggled her ankle and felt the twinge of pain, but knew it wasn’t severe.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“I saw everything if you’d like to make a police report,” he said smoothly.

“You’re American.” She said the words as a statement, not a question and he nodded ever so slightly.

“Guilty,” he smiled.

“Sorry, no guilt intended.”

He was still holding her hand and she looked up into his face, his eyes almost appeared as though they were calculating something. Fiona thought she should be nervous, but all she felt was warmth and security.

“It doesn’t seem that you have any serious injuries. Is your ankle painful?” he said.

“So, you’re a doctor then, are you?” she smiled jokingly.

“Actually, I am,” he replied. “I’m here on vacation for a friend’s wedding, but yes, I’m a doctor. A surgeon actually.”

“Impressive. Yes, I mean no. No serious injuries. The ankle will most likely be bruised and sore, but nothing I can’t live with.”

“I’m Adam, Adam Thorn,” he said still holding her hand.

“Hello Adam Thorn, and thank you, again. I’m Fiona Graham and I suppose I should probably take a taxi back home. That is, if you’ll give me back my hand.” Fiona smiled at the giant of a man.

“Why don’t I buy you dinner first so you can warm up and dry off? By that time, most of the evening traffic will have died down and you can catch a taxi home.”

“Alright, O’Neill’s is pretty good. Good Irish pub food, if you’re okay with that,” she said.

“I’m more than okay with that.” He held her elbow as they crossed the street and the warmth of his hand travelled up Fiona’s arm at an alarming rate. It was as if his hand was on fire and her body instantly warmed.

“You’re quite tall aren’t you?” she asked looking up at him. His eyes grew wide and a small grin escaped his beautiful lips.

“I suppose I am. I’m six foot two, but you’re pretty tall as well. Most women don’t reach my shoulders.”

“Aye, I am. Five feet nine in my bare feet. My parents were both tall. Da was six feet three and mam was five feet eight. I suppose it’s a curse and a blessing.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a curse. It’s a nice change for me.”

“Well, thank you. It’s harder for a tall woman though, most men don’t want to have a woman as tall or taller than him. I have to be careful with my shoes.”

Present day…

“Anyway, we discovered that we were meant to be together both through our gifts and romantic match. It didn’t matter. We already knew that.”

“So, you can see inside the body and assess damage?” asked Cruz with a perplexed expression.

“Yes. I can see just about everything and usually diagnose it without x-rays or scans. What I can’t see, Fiona usually can feel and she can heal it. She takes on the injury, the cancer, whatever it is and within minutes it’s gone from their body and into her body.”

“Holy shit, that has to be scary,” said Cruz.

“I didn’t want her to do it at first but we all know how that turned out for me,” he smirked.

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