She laughed and patted me on the shoulder, not unkindly, because she could probably feel a sympathy in me now that she never could before. "Too late for that, honey. Your name wouldn't mean a thing any more."
So many of them owed their lives to me—and yet they had forgotten me.
Tim looked at me. "Be careful, Kev," he said anxiously.
"Careful of what?"
"I don't know exactly." He ran his hand through his hair. "But be careful, won't you?"
Just at that moment, an easy chair floated in from the next room, banged into me, swerved, and crashed into a table. Danny, who had been thinking of going into interior decoration as a sideline to his business, had been making the furniture leap without looking first.
I gave Tim a reproachful glance as I used my gift to heal my bruised shin. "You might have been a little more explicit," I complained. "I'm no 'path."
"I didn't mean—" But Danny caromed into Tim on his way to inspect the damage. My whole family was so used to relying on their psi powers that they were pretty clumsy when it came to using the merely physical ones.
Danny looked sadly at the wreckage. The chair was only nicked, but the table was pretty well smashed. "Gee, Kev," he said mournfully, "if only you could fix furniture the way you fix up people."