“It’s a baseball field. Infield, outfield, nine players.”

“Batter up,” she said and sent another light into her batter’s box. “I used to do this as a kid, too.” And had missed it, she realized. “When I couldn’t sleep, or didn’t want to. Let’s see how he likes a fastball.”

Another light, small and blue, shot out from the pitcher’s mound. There was a snap of sound, a burst of streaming light. “Yes! Base hit, deep right field. Let’s stretch it into a triple.”

Forgetting his machines, Mac sat on the foot of the bed and watched, marvelously entertained, as she played through an entire inning.

“Keep it going,” he urged. “How old were you when you first recognized and used your gift?”

“I don’t know. It just always seemed to be there. Double play, smooth as silk.”

“Do you ever play on a terrestrial field?”

“Sure. Hot corner—I’ve got great hands. You?”

“No. Too clumsy. Divide eighty-four by twelve.”

“Struck him out! And the side retires. Divide what? That’s math. I hate math.” Her brow furrowed.

“You didn’t say there was going to be a quiz.”

“Give it a shot,” he told her and rose again to check the readings.

“Twelve’s one of the sucky ones. Hanging curveball, low and outside. It’s six, no, wait. Damn it. Seven, seven times two is fourteen, and carry the deal to the other deal. Seven. So what?”

Excitement trickled through him, but all that showed in his voice was amusement. “So you strained your left brain a bit, but maintained the pattern.”

She breezed through the backward alphabet. He wasn’t entirely sure what that said about her mind or her personality, but her readings remained high and steady. “Okay, close the spell.”

“But I’ve got a man out and a man on.”

“We’ll pick it up later.”

“This is starting to feel like school,” she complained, but opened her hands again and drew the lights down, extinguished them.

“I need you to relax again. Breathe in through your nose, out gently through your mouth. Slow, deep breaths.”

Ready to pout about the game delay, she looked over at him. And saw what Nell had seen. Cool, calm control. “I’m relaxed enough.”

“Breathe, Ripley. Count the beats. Slow, deep, easy.”

He sat on the side of the bed with her, checked her pulse with his fingers. “Relax your toes.”

“My what?”

“Your toes. Let your toes relax, let all the tension slide out.”

“I’m not tense.” But he felt her pulse kick. “If this is your prelude to hypnosis, it’s not going to work.”

“Then it won’t work.” Watching her face, he trailed his fingers to the pulse in the curve of her elbow, back to her wrist. Soft, steady strokes. “Relax your feet. You’ve been on them most of the day. Let the tension go out of them. Out of your ankles.”

His voice was so quiet, so soothing. His fingers on her skin were a lovely, light connection.

“Relax your calves. It’s like warm water flowing up through your body, washing out the tension. Your mind’s relaxing, too. Just let it empty out. Your knees are relaxing now, your thighs. Visualize a soft white field. Nothing on it. It’s easy on the eyes. It relaxes them.”

He drew the pendant from under his shirt. Wrapped the chain twice around his hand. “Breathe in the calm, expel the tension. It’s safe here. You can just drift.”

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me I’m getting sleepy?”

“Ssh. Breathe. Focus on the pendant.”

Her pulse jumped again when he held it up in her line of vision. “That’s Mia’s.”

“Relax. Focus. You’re safe. You know you can trust me.”

She moistened her lips. “This isn’t going to work anyway.”

“The pendant’s in front of that white wall. It’s all you can see, all you need to see. Let your mind clear. Just look at the pendant. Listen to my voice. It’s all you need to hear.”

He took her down in stages, gently, until her eyelids began to droop. Then slid her deep.

“Subject is unusually susceptible to hypnosis. Vital signs are steady, readings typical for a trance state. Ripley, can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to remember that you’re safe and that you’re not to do anything that you’re not willing to do and comfortable doing. If I ask you to do anything that you don’t want to do, you’re to tell me no. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Are you able to stir the air?”

“Yes.”

“Will you do so? Gently.”

She lifted her arms, as if for an embrace, and the air moved over him like a soft wave of water.

“How does that make you feel?” he asked her.

“I can’t explain. Happy, and afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“I want it too much, want too much of it.”

“Close the spell,” he ordered. It wasn’t fair to ask her questions like that, he reminded himself. She hadn’t agreed to it before he’d put her under. “Remember the lights? The baseball lights? Can you bring them back?”

“I’m not supposed to play after bedtime,” she said, and her voice had changed subtly, become younger and full of mischief. “But I do.”

He stared at her rather than the lights she threw toward the ceiling. “Subject has regressed, without direct suggestion. The childhood game appears to have triggered the event.”

The scientist in him wanted to pursue it, but the man couldn’t follow through.

“Ripley, you’re not a little girl. I want you to stay in this time and place.”

“Mia and I had fun. If I didn’t have to grow up, we’d still be friends.” It was said sulkily, her mouth in a pout as she played the lights.

“I need you to stay in this time and this place.”

She let out a long sigh. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Can I touch one of the lights?”

“It won’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” She brought one down until it hovered above his hands. He could trace it with his finger, a perfect circle. “It’s beautiful. What’s inside you is beautiful.”