Timothy changed the topic then, telling Andrew how I’d ridden Molly.
“Yes, I sat on top of her. It’s not like I guided her or did anything other than cling to the horn thing.”
“You rode like a cowgirl,” Timothy defended me, which made me laugh.
***
The next day I was ready for more input. I asked if we could eat breakfast out by the pool, so, of course, we received our French toast and strawberries under the umbrella, next to the sparkling pool that neither of us had swum in that morning. We had a pot of coffee in the delightfully heavy white mugs. It was the perfect place for prying into the life of a pooka.
“What benefits do you get from being a pooka?” was my first question. I wanted to know if Timothy had abilities that he hadn’t explained yet.
“The main ones are shape changing and dream walking.”
“And?”
“Sometimes I get stray thoughts and emotions from others.”
“Like from me?”
“More than most. You are a sender. Your thoughts ripple in the air currents.”
“So, all those times I thought you were reading my thoughts, you really were.”
He shook his head. “Not exactly, my love. Only sometimes. Oddly, when you blush. That seems to spur your thoughts into a higher wavelength. But like right now, other than the fact, that you’re part curious and part anxious, I’m not receiving anything. Remember emotion is the key. If you were to get angry, I’m sure I would feel that as clearly as if you spit in my face.”
“I don’t spit in faces.”
In the conversation that followed, I learned that pookas lived an extraordinarily long time, something Timothy had already mentioned before. He didn’t seem to know how long that would be, but apparently his early years were spent in an Irish village in probably the early 1200’s. That was a very, very long time ago. The fact that Timothy could adopt to today’s lifestyle was a remarkable testament to his adaptability.