Jessica
Seven Sisters Book Two
by Amelia C. Adams
With thanks to my beta readers—Amy, Barbara, Cheryl, Dorothy, George, Joseph, Mary, Meisje, Shelby, and Renee.
Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill
Get the first book in the Seven Sisters series, Heather, here!
Table of 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
Epilogue
Chapter One
Bagley, Texas
March 1984
It just wasn’t any use at all.
Jessica McClain had been trying to go to sleep for hours, but her head hurt, and the red digital numbers on her alarm clock were making it worse. Fluffing her pillow hadn’t done anything, and neither had turning it over to the cool side. Maybe some Nestle Quik would help.
She walked into the kitchen and took the milk out of the fridge, thinking about what a strange evening she’d just had. Her father, Bob McClain, had asked the entire family to gather at the house that Saturday night to look at some new gadgets he’d gotten his hands on. Her father and his gadgets . . . She shook her head as she stirred the chocolate powder into the glass of milk. He was always getting the latest new things, and he showed them off like a breeder at a dog show.
The weirdest thing had happened that night, though, something that had never happened before. Just as her father was showing them his discoveries—something about a GPS and a cell phone—there was a clap of thunder, and the lights went out.
When they came back on, Jessica felt a little disoriented. Heather, her oldest sister, said she felt like some of the power from the electricity had gone into her, but her five other sisters hadn’t said much of anything. Heather went home early, not feeling well, and now Jessica was on the sure brink of death from this dumb headache. She hoped they hadn’t all gotten the flu or something. She didn’t have time for that—she had to grade papers and prepare an exam for Monday. She had her whole Sunday afternoon blocked out, and taking a sick day wasn’t on the agenda.
She thought back to her high school years and how spontaneous she’d always been. Then she grew up, and something happened—she got boring. Well, not totally boring—she was still sarcastic, because some things never change, and she loved teasing her family, because they were so very fun to tease. But now she paid her bills on time and voted and did all sorts of other mature, grownup things—stuff an adult would do, even though she’d sworn she’d never be an adult.
At thirty, though, she didn’t really have a choice anymore.
She drained the last of her chocolate milk and rinsed out the glass—being mature and responsible again—then went back to bed. If she tried hard, she could get four hours of sleep before she had to wake up for church. Missing church wasn’t an option unless she had leprosy, and since she was pretty sure her nose hadn’t fallen off, her mother, Barbara, would expect her to be there.
Now if she could just get her head to cooperate.
***
Jessica walked into her sister Heather’s house without knocking—without opening any doors. She just floated through the wall and there she was, watching her sister as she sat at her dining room table, playing with a box of crayons. That was odd—she didn’t know Heather liked to color. She watched as Heather picked up a red crayon and then a blue crayon and held them together, a smile lighting her face as she looked at them. Then Jessica drifted out of her sister’s house and back to her own.
***
Thankfully, Jessica’s headache went away, and she’d been able to get a few hours of sleep. She’d definitely need a nap after church or she’d never be able to get those papers graded, though.
She stepped into the shower and let the hot water run down her neck and back to ease her stiff muscles. She didn’t think she’d moved around once she’d gone back to bed, and staying in the same position all night always made her wake up feeling like a board. She badly needed a massage, but she didn’t think she’d have time that week.
As she toweled off, she suddenly remembered the dream she’d had. It was so strange. Heather was thirty-two—why would she be playing with crayons at her age? It was probably just Jessica’s headache playing games with her mind, but this dream didn’t seem at all like others she’d had. It looked . . . well, kind of like the difference between a television show and a movie. It was almost as if the lens of her dream camera had been changed out and she was seeing things sharper and clearer and in more detail.
But crayons?
It was probably a chocolate milk-induced dream, and she should just forget about it.
She sat with her family at church, trying to pay attention to the sermon, but not really succeeding. Her mind kept drifting to crayons, and she noticed that her sisters seemed a little off too. They laughed and joked after the service like they always did, but it wasn’t the same.
She grabbed a quick lunch at her parents’ house like she usually did on Sundays, then headed home to prep for school the next day. She loved her job working at the junior high, but some weeks were harder than others, and she’d really been struggling with a boy in her last class of the day. His name was Jake, and he seemed completely disconnected from the world around him. She knew his mother had passed away the year before, and she suspected that had something to do with it, but that wasn’t a problem she could fix.
She’d asked the school secretary to pull up Jake’s grades for the previous year, and sure enough, they were really good up until his mother had died. Now it was up to her to find a way to reach him, but nothing she’d done so far had worked. She’d sent a letter home a few days ago and hoped to get his father on her team.
After grabbing a cherry 7-Up from the fridge, Jessica sat down at the kitchen table, put on her reading glasses, and faced the stack of papers in front of her. The class had been assigned to write a short biography on one of their heroes. It didn’t surprise her to see a smattering of papers about Mother Teresa, Michael Jackson, and Boy George. She chuckled when she saw one written about Alf and another about Skeletor—those would be fun to grade.
The last one in the stack brought her up short. It had been written by Jake, and was titled simply, “My Mom.”
My mom was the best. She always took care of me and made sure I ate breakfast, even though I hate eating breakfast because it takes too much time and I’m always late. She’s my hero because she never complained. She just did what she had to do.
That was it. The assignment had specifically been to include a place of birth and a birth date for their hero, as well as other personal information about them, and this paper had none of that. How could she even begin to grade this paper, though? Jake hadn’t done the assignment, but he’d shared a piece of his heart. Things like this made her job so much harder.
She was supposed to hand out the graded papers the next day, but she felt like she needed a little more time to think about this one. She didn’t want to do anything hasty, knowing it would have an impact on this boy. She’d hold off for a couple of days. The students would be distracted by the exam, and they probably wouldn’t think to ask about their papers just yet.
She glanced at the clock and realized she wasn’t going to make it over to Heather’s to watch their recorded shows together like they’d planned. She grabbed the phone and twisted t
he cord around her finger while she waited for her sister to answer. “Hey, I’m behind on some stuff for school. Go ahead and watch your shows without me, okay?”
Heather chuckled. “You’re ditching me for school stuff?”
“Yeah—I’m sorry.”
“All right, I suppose I’ll survive it. Talk to you later.”
Jessica hung up and went back to the table. Time to decide just exactly what sorts of torture to inflict—er, what questions should be on the exam for the next day.
Chapter Two
A handsome dark-haired man sat next to a fireplace, light coming over his shoulder from a lamp in the corner of the room. He flipped through a photo album, at one point pulling back the magnetic plastic sheet to lift out a photo and stare at it. He wiped his eyes before putting the picture back.
The front door opened, and a young teenage boy entered the house. “Dad?” he called out.
The man looked up, startled, then shoved the photo album under the end table near his chair. “In here, son. Why were you out so late?”
The boy shrugged. “Anything to eat?”
“Leftovers in the fridge.” The man sighed as he watched his son go into the kitchen.
***
After finishing her work Sunday night, Jessica had managed to climb into bed a little earlier than usual, but strange dreams had kept her from getting any deep sleep. Two nights in a row? That was going to hurt when it caught up to her.
The school day got started, and Jake slouched in a few minutes late. Jessica opened her mouth to say something to him, but then she remembered his essay, and she stopped. She wasn’t going to give him preferential treatment by any means, but if she could think of a way to help him out, she’d like to try. She’d just have to get a little creative.
She handed out the exam papers, smiling at the moans and groans that came up from the class.
“We didn’t know there was a test today,” Amanda said, her voice a quarter-inch away from being a whine. “This is totally unfair.”
“We should always be ready for tests,” Dwight replied. “Tests determine our academic placement and will therefore predict our futures.”
Typical reactions from both of them. She paused at Andy’s table. He was one of the boys who lived on the McClain Boys Ranch, which was run by her uncle’s family. They took in boys who had nowhere else to go and taught them valuable life skills—they did amazing things out there, and she loved to help however she could.
“Here’s your test, Andy,” she said, sliding the paper in front of him.
“Thanks, Miss McClain.” He didn’t look up to meet her eyes, which was odd. She’d thought they were pretty good friends.
She went back to her desk and looked out across the room, her eyes wandering up and down the rows. Her gaze landed on Jake. The way he’d slumped into the room had reminded her of something—and not just the way he slumped into the room every day. It was like she’d seen it someplace else, someplace . . .
Her dream from the night before. The boy in her dream had walked just like that, but she’d never been able to make out his features. He’d been in shadow the whole time. If her dream really was about him, someone she knew, why hadn’t she identified him immediately?
Weird.
She pushed the thought aside and collected the papers just as the bell rang. “I’ll see you all tomorrow,” she called out, sitting back down and putting the tests on the desk in front of her. She’d take a little time to grade them now—with the kids all heading for home, the school would be quiet in a few minutes.
She glanced out the classroom window and saw Andy crossing the grass toward the school bus. His head drooped, and his feet scuffed the grass as he went. She trusted that her uncle would get to the bottom of it—Jonathan was really good at what he did. He took care of those boys like they were his own, even though there were dozens of them.
Time to grade the tests. She bent her head to her work and was soon lost in the world of multiple choice.
Jessica looked up from her desk when she heard a knock on the door. A tall, good-looking man stuck his head into the classroom. “Hi. Are you Miss McClain?”
“Yes, I am. How can I help you?”
He held up a sheet of paper. “I got a letter saying that my son is about to flunk out of this class.”
This would be Jake’s father. Jessica pulled in a breath—and then almost forgot to exhale. It was him—the man in her dream from the night before. She’d seen him plain as day while he flipped through his photo album, and now, as he stood in front of her desk, there was no mistaking him. But she’d never met this man before—never. How . . . how on earth had she known what Jake’s father looked like? He’d missed parent/teacher conferences, he hadn’t come to any of the school events—she didn’t think she’d even run into him at the grocery store.
“Please, have a seat, Mr. Morgan,” she said, feeling a little faint.
“I’m glad you wrote. It gives me the chance to explain what’s been going on at our house, and to help you understand where Jake’s coming from.”
Oh, great. Jessica loved this kind of talk—the kind where she had to explain that the students had to earn their grades regardless of their home life. She couldn’t pass Jake if he didn’t do the work, even though she did feel sorry for what he’d been through.
“Things have been pretty rough since Jake’s mother died last year,” Mr. Morgan began. “He’s been hiding in his room a lot, scribbling in a notebook, and then just lately, he’s started sneaking out at night.”
“Did . . . did he sneak out last night?”
Mr. Morgan nodded. “I went out looking for him around midnight, but then I realized it was probably best for me to wait for him at home. When he finally came back, I didn’t have anything to say.” He passed a hand down his face. “It’s been hard enough for me to deal with my own emotions. I don’t know how to help him deal with his. I’ve been thinking about getting him some kind of counseling. I’ve hesitated because I don’t want people to think bad things about him, you know—that he’s crazy or something for needing therapy.”
Jessica nodded. She knew from her sister Gaylynn, who worked as a counselor, that a lot of people who needed help were afraid to seek it out for that very reason.
“But in the meantime, I think Jake needs to keep pushing to do better, and I need to show him how it’s done and be better about overseeing it. What do you think, Miss McClain? What are your suggestions for how we can turn this around?”
“Pardon?” What he’d just said was such a large departure from the string of excuses she’d come to expect that for a moment, she couldn’t come up with a reply.
“Jake’s failing grade. How can I help him make up for it?”
“Oh. Right.” Jessica swallowed. “I’ve put together a packet of assignments Jake’s missed. I’d planned to deliver it to your house, but here you are.” She reached into her desk drawer and removed the envelope. “Some of these assignments can be done rather quickly, but there’s a paper due by the end of the month, and that one might be more difficult to finish on time.”
“I’ll see to it that it’s done.” Mr. Morgan looked down at the envelope. “I’m to blame for a lot of this,” he said, almost to himself. “When my wife died, I went into a blue funk, and I was just going through the motions. I got dinner on the table, but I never asked about homework, and a lot of things slid past me. But now I’m ready to set things right.” He cleared his throat and looked up to meet her eye. “Sorry. You don’t need to know my whole sad story—just that things will be different from now on.”
“I’m glad you’re doing better,” Jessica replied. “That means Jake will too.”
“Yes. And it’s been a long time coming for both of us.” Mr. Morgan stood up and reached out to shake Jessica’s hand. “Thanks for your help, and we’ll have these assignments done as soon as we can.”
“Thank you. I’m fairly confident that with your support at home, he’ll be able to catch
up. And you might want to give counseling more serious thought. We’re used to thinking of it for people who are suffering with severe mental health issues, but more and more these days, it’s being used to help people navigate through all kinds of difficulties. Here.” She reached into her desk drawer. “This is my sister’s card. She might be able to help, and if she can’t, she’ll refer you to someone who can.”
Mr. Morgan slipped the card into his pocket. “Thank you, Miss McClain. Jake’s a good kid—he just needs some guidance, and I’m ready to step up my game and be that person for him. We’ve got to make this work—for him and for me.”
“That kind of determination is why you’ll succeed,” Jessica replied. “I have to be honest—I talk to a lot of parents who are sure their children are failing because of me, and it has nothing to do with their poor academic work. I worry about those kids because they aren’t being taught to earn what they get. You’re going to be all right, Mr. Morgan. Not overnight, but it will happen because I can see your commitment to your son.”
“Please, call me Kent,” he replied. “And thank you. That gives me a lot of hope—maybe I haven’t let this go too far afield.”
“It’s good for Jake to know that you’ve been hurting too, and that he’s not alone in his grief. Work through it together, and you’ll likely make much better strides.”
Kent nodded. “I’ll definitely sit him down tonight and we’ll talk it out. Thanks, Miss McClain.”
Jessica exhaled with relief as he left the classroom. That had gone about twelve million times better than she’d expected—except for the very weird discovery that she’d dreamed about Kent and Jake just the previous night. How had that even happened? She’d never met Kent, and he was the prominent person in her dream. She knew Jake well, but he was in shadow the whole time.
She rubbed at her temples. That silly headache was coming back—the one she’d been fighting ever since that zap thing had happened at her parents’ house. The Zap—she chuckled. Like it was some kind of big deal, when it wasn’t. Power outages happened all the time.
Jessica (Seven Sisters Book 2) Page 1