Law of Attraction

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Angie’s jaw flapped a couple of times but no sound came out.

  “I distinctly felt the energy in that front bedroom: fear and confusion—”

  “Plenty of that. Patty’s mother despised me,” Kyle confessed.

  “—and images of a woman very much like you,” Ross insisted, reaching toward Angie. “But I don’t always interpret my visions correctly, so I figured you were right. I mean, the woman I pegged as your mother looked nothing like Helen Cavanaugh, right?”

  Iverson fished a worn wallet from his hip pocket. Flipped to the last filmy photo window and eased a photograph from behind another. He gazed at the image, rubbed fuzzy from time, before he handed it over. “Took this on the sly, when Patty called to say her mom had gone out for groceries,” he said with a sigh. “Sorry I’ve been starin’ atcha, Angie, but, well, ya can’t miss the resemblance. And can the baby’s name—all these other circumstances—be coincidental?”

  “No such thing as coincidence,” Ross murmured. “Everything in the universe is evolving and unfolding in perfect order—like we’ve talked about, babe.”

  Angie swallowed hard, gazed at the faded snapshot of a teenage girl with her hair parted in the center, flowing past her shoulders, hair the color and texture of her own. Patty held a bundle of baby as though she’d never let it go, and the fierce love on her face jarred something loose in Angie’s heart.

  That baby is you. Your mother loved you so much she called you an angel, but she had no way to keep you—

  A sob escaped her. “I just can’t…My God, I had no clue,” she rasped. “Mom and Daddy never let on for a minute, so—”

  Ross pulled her close, or she might’ve shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. “Wow. This is heavy stuff, Ange. I had no idea.”

  “Yeah, who coulda known we’d come back to this same little house after, what, thirty-some years?” Kyle stepped beside her to gaze at the picture again.

  “I’ll be forty next month. May twenty-fifth.” She sucked in a couple of shaky breaths. “But I’m still not ready to believe—Hey, maybe we’d better get back to the lodge, okay? I need to hear what Lenore has to say about all this. Both my parents died last year, so I can’t ask them why they never told me.”

  The carpenter wrapped his large, warm hands around hers. “I’m sorry this came to light so unexpected like. I…I never in this world would hurt my own kid, Angie.” He focused on her as his mind went back in time. “Felt like somebody ripped out my heart and stomped on it when Patty’s mother called the sheriff to haul me away from here that day I took this picture. She told me I was trash. Said I’d ruined her daughter’s life, and—”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking Lenore needs to be in on this story.” Ross stood facing them, his hands on their shoulders as he considered the implications of this situation. “She had to know who you were the minute I brought you to the lodge.”

  Angie nodded, allowing him to blot the tears streaming down her face.

  “And she had to figure this father-daughter reunion would happen once I told her I’d hired Kyle.” He sighed as though he was as mystified as she was. “And, buddy, I can’t believe I knew you and Lenore way before we got the band together, yet neither of you let on.”

  “Wasn’t somethin’ she and I discussed,” Kyle replied quietly. “Guess I figured it was a closed case after all these years of not hearin’ from Patty.” He shrugged, grinning sadly. “But before we point any fingers, maybe we should allow that Lenore had good reasons for handlin’ it this way—like all of us did the best we could at the time. She’s gotta talk about it now, though. No gettin’ around it.”

  “Yeah, I suspect she’s watched and waited for this moment.” Ross flashed them a cautious smile. “Shall we see what she has to say?”

  Fifteen

  THE innkeeper awaited them on the balcony as they got out of Ross’s Navigator. Her opalescent hair shimmered in the sunlight, framing her tranquil face as she observed the three of them. “I’ve got cookies and lemonade,” she said with a pensive smile. “Looks like some unexpected skeletons have jumped out of the closets, so come on up. Let’s have a look at them.”

  Although eating was the furthest thing from her mind, Angie grabbed a cookie before she landed in a padded wicker porch chair. She closed her eyes over its lemony sweetness: crisscrossed with fork marks and studded with raisins, its simple perfection whipped her into another frenzy. “All right, look, Lenore. It’s one thing to know what I’d find out today when I met Kyle, but sheesh! Did you have to make these cookies that Mom—my mother—brought to the beach every summer? When I was little, it was my job to crisscross them with the fork.”

  The seer grinned. “I thought they’d bring you fond memories, call up a time dear to you, as we talked about some difficult issues. And while I—”

  “You could’ve warned me!” Angie blurted. “You knew all along who I was! And you knew about the secrets in that bungalow when Ross took me there, and when I talked about wanting the place. You could’ve at least softened the blow by—”

  “And would you have believed me?” Lenore perched on the edge of her seat to pour four tall glasses of fresh-squeezed lemonade. “You were already spooked by the way things were falling into place and so enamored of Ross, you weren’t hearing half of what I told you.”

  Angie jammed the last of the cookie into her mouth and grabbed another. “I was handling things the best way I knew how. I mean, really. I’d been strangled by my ex, who’d cleaned out my bank accounts, and I’d just lost my job and—”

  “And you found out you couldn’t walk on water,” Ross added gently.

  “You’ll recall, from your sketch, that your tarot spread illustrates this situation quite precisely. You were seeing the story as you wished it would go, dear, but I saw cards that told of a frightened young woman and her defiant lover who met in the middle of that Five of Pentacles. With a baby.” Lenore sat back with her lemonade. “Could be they represented Patty McCormick and Kyle Iverson, two kids caught up in a summer love and totally unprepared to deal with its consequences.

  “Patty’s mother labeled the whole affair a huge mistake and wanted to sweep it under the rug, out of her daughter’s life. That was common at the time,” the seer continued in a faraway voice. “But you were no mistake, Angie, just as your coming to Harmony Falls now, as an adult, is no happenstance. Because you’ve released Gregg and opened yourself to higher possibilities, all manner of wondrous things will come your way—those new beginnings promised by the Ace of Cups—because you’re attracting them. Bringing the cycle full circle.”

  “Oh, please!” Angie gulped the last bite of the lemon cookie, the kind she’d loved thirty years ago, when she believed Helen Cavanaugh was her mother. The stay-at-home mom who read her stories and tucked her in and—

  She couldn’t believe this. Her mom would never keep such a secret! Not from her.

  Ross reached across their chairs to grasp her hand. “Are you okay, babe? It’s perfectly normal to deny such life-altering information when you first learn it. Especially when the people who could’ve told you about it are gone.”

  “That’s the part that gets me,” she replied. Her throat felt raw and a crying jag was poised to pounce. “If Helen and Bill Cavanaugh were such decent, caring parents, why didn’t they tell me I was adopted? They were the people I trusted most in this world, and they never gave me a clue!”

  “They loved ya like you were their own,” Kyle murmured. “I’m grateful to ’em for that.”

  “Me, too,” Ross chimed in quietly. “You’ve grown into a wonderful woman, so loving and compassionate, we have to figure such traits came at least partly from the way you were raised. DNA only goes so far. You’re living proof the Cava-naughs devoted the best of themselves to you, babe.”

  What sort of conspiracy was this? Why were Ross, Kyle, and Lenore elevating the Cavanaughs to sainthood for hiding behind a lie? It was one thing to commend adoptive parents, but right now she felt surrounded by
a trio of do-gooders praising a duo who had concealed some very important information.

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered as she stood up. No need for these three near strangers to witness her total devastation: the life she’d led as the Cavanaughs’ daughter now felt like a house built on shifting sands, and it had just washed out to sea. “Do you know how scary it is to think everything I believed about myself is now questionable? Because my beliefs about my home life, my family—my self—have come under fire?” Hot tears flooded her eyes. “And how the hell do I know you’re telling me the truth?” she challenged in a ragged voice. “And why should I take these revelations on faith? Preach all you want about laws of attraction and…and karma, and all that other crap, but you’ve got no proof.”

  “Ah, but I do, dear heart.” Lenore stood up, eyes shimmering behind her own tears. “You have a right to be angry, a right to demand that I back up what I’m telling you. While I suggested to Helen—several times—that she should inform you about the adoption, she was afraid to say anything. Bill was so wrapped up in you, from the moment you first took his finger in your little fist, that for all practical purposes, you were their child, sweetheart.”

  She reached for a white box beneath the wicker table. “You may look at these items in your room, or I can show them to you. Because the Cavanaughs were older, they asked me to be your guardian, in the event something happened to them before you grew up. Over the years they kept in touch—”

  “Then why don’t I know you?” Angie challenged. “If you were here every summer when we rented the house on Windswept, I’d remember you!”

  Lenore smiled patiently. “An excellent question. And I’ll answer it both from a spiritual side and the practical side.” She chose a cookie and then passed the plate to Kyle. “I’ve seen this time coming, dear—when you and Kyle would be brought together again by circumstances that are part of the universe’s grand scheme of things. I sensed it at your birth, and I knew Ross would be part of that plan when he met you the other day.”

  Angie raised an eyebrow. “And?” she asked pointedly.

  Lenore’s hair shimmered like polished pearls when she shook her head, chuckling quietly. “The Cavanaughs were strong Christians cut from sturdy, conservative cloth. While they knew I’d look after you if they passed on while you were little, my less-than-traditional beliefs intimidated them a bit.”

  “Yeah, that was Mom and Daddy to a T,” she murmured. It was making sense, what this mystic said, but it was still hard to swallow…

  “So when you came here each summer for a week, they immersed themselves in the beach, and the bungalow, and you,” Lenore went on in her faraway voice. “And at home, Helen and Bill wished to preserve the appearance that you were their natural daughter, for a number of reasons. First, they didn’t want you having a different last name, because in that era it was a stigma to come from a ‘broken home’ or to be born out of wedlock. You were so bright and happy, Angela. They wanted to protect you from those who might think less of you because of the circumstances of your birth.”

  Kyle shifted in his chair. “Yeah, I wasn’t the best father material on the planet,” he admitted with a wry grin. “Left home after my parents heard about Patty bein’ pregnant, because they laid on the shame pretty thick. I didn’t deal well with authority then—not any better than I take orders from others now.”

  “And what your parents dished up was probably nothing, compared to how Patty’s parents acted,” Ross remarked. “All the disgrace fell on the girl back then.”

  “Which is why her holier-than-thou mother brought Patty to this little burg, when it got obvious she wasn’t just pudgy.” Kyle’s expression curdled, but then he sighed. “I had no idea about a baby until they showed up and Patty called me on the sly. While I knew circumstances weren’t the best, I wanted the chance to prove I could take care of her—and you, Angie. But the McCormicks were a nice middle-class family. Didn’t want their friends catchin’ a whiff of their daughter’s scandal.”

  “And didn’t want to lessen her chances of finding a husband when she got older.” Lenore nodded sadly, imploring Angie with her earnest gaze. “So while you’re justified in feeling like you’ve been lied to—intentionally kept in the dark about who you are—offering you to the Cavanaughs for adoption solved a lot of problems. Bill and Helen were ecstatic, honey. They couldn’t have a family, and you were the answer to their prayers.”

  “Yeah, well…I have a lot of things to think about, don’t I?” She eased the top off the box Lenore held for her. A couple of envelopes addressed to Lenore in her mom’s very familiar script rested on top of a blue folder labeled CONFIDENTIAL: ADOPTION DOCUMENT. As she looked beneath it, a snapshot caught her eye. The color was faded, as Kyle’s wallet photo had been, but there was no getting around it: the scared young girl with the strawberry blonde hair had to be her mother. And there was no denying the cocky defiance of the long-haired boy who held her—that bundle of baby was her!—as he draped his other arm around Patty.

  “Oh, wow, I’d forgotten about this picture.” As Kyle moved to Angie’s other side for a closer look, his eyes got misty. “You snapped this for us, didn’t you, Lenore? Right before the Cavanaughs came.”

  “I suspected we’d see a day when a picture would be worth a thousand words,” she murmured as she squeezed Angie’s shoulders. “And here we are. Exhuming a truth recorded when the camera couldn’t lie, before computers could alter photographs. I’m so pleased you two are together again, now that you’re both mature enough to deal with the situation. And each other.”

  “Ever hear from Patty?” Kyle asked quietly. He was trying to sound nonchalant, but didn’t quite carry it off.

  “No. I suspect her mother kept close watch after Patty called you to the bungalow to see your daughter.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, well, I got a couple letters from her. Got sick of my folks houndin’ me about my miserable grades and attitude, though, so I skipped out.” Kyle cautiously rested a hand on Angie’s shoulder—a strong, callused hand that trembled like a scared little boy’s. “I wasn’t expectin’ this reunion when Ross asked me to look at that cottage, Angie. I know you’re upset, honey. Sounds like ya had a lot on your plate before ya came here. But I hope we can be…well, at least friends.”

  Only the sound of the distant surf surrounded them for a long, holy moment. Her inner whirlwind of emotion slowed as she gazed into Kyle Iverson’s weathered face. He wasn’t the sort to gush or get demonstrative, yet he seemed as fragile as a dry leaf in autumn, easily crushed and blown away. His eyes offered her his kindness and simplicity, an integrity born of success that hadn’t come easily, nor had it made him rich.

  Angie rested her head on the carpenter’s shoulder. A single sob caught in his throat as he tentatively wrapped his arms around her. He hugged her tightly then, and as their bodies swayed together, Angie felt amazing warmth flowing between them.

  Kyle Iverson didn’t expect her to love him. He didn’t expect anything. This man, her father, simply reveled in holding her, the child he thought he’d never see again. He sighed as though she were a priceless gift. Lenore rubbed their shoulders, and then Ross rose to hold them from the other side. For a long, sweet moment, Angie soaked up the glow. This revelation about her birth had jarred her deepest beliefs, yet right now she didn’t want to break a circle of love unlike any she’d experienced.

  Ross cleared his throat. “Well…wow. Who knew my best buddy and my best girl were father and daughter?” he murmured. “Gives us all something phenomenal to ponder, considering how the cosmic kaleidoscope has been turning us all in this direction for nearly forty years. Coulda turned out a lot differently.”

  “Yeah.” Kyle eased away from her. “And who knows? Maybe Patty would like to be in on it. Maybe…we could find a way to contact her. Would you like that, Angie? Would it help you sort this out? I’ll understand if you say no.”

  Angie gazed at Lenore, who was drinking all this in with her usual p
lacid acceptance. Her mentor had gracefully explained the question about how, during so many summer vacations, Lenore St. Claire—her guardian and guardian angel—hadn’t made herself known. And maybe it didn’t matter. Yet Angie still felt out of the loop, surrounded by these people whose psychic abilities gave them an advantage over her, after her own parents had kept her in the dark, too.

  “I suppose you know where Patty is,” she demanded shrilly of Lenore. “Or maybe she’s been in contact with you all along?”

  One silvery eyebrow rose. “No, I’m sure her mother squelched any ideas about keeping in touch with me, because she wanted Patty to get on with her life. And while Helen wrote or called now and again, your parents preferred to keep Kyle out of it, too. Even though I was aware he’d joined a construction crew farther down the coast.” The woman’s smile softened. “You feel like everyone’s betrayed you, but truly, Angie, they wanted you to grow up happy. Unconcerned about being a love child. Yet from any way you look at this, you’ll feel warm, wonderful love if you see it from the perspectives of those who were protecting you.”

  “And if this gets heavy and you feel like the whole world’s conspiring against you,” Ross added softly, “I’ll let you vent, or take you for counseling, or whatever you need, angel. Or if you want me to butt out, that’s fine, too.”

  How could she resent anything they’d said? They offered themselves to her in the sincerest desire to help her feel good about who she was. Even so, this new knowledge throbbed like a wound, and the pain wouldn’t go away just because these three heaped love upon her.

  Angie’s gaze fell to the open box and her insides tightened again. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I need some time to hash this out. It’s been quite a day, you know?”

  Sixteen

  GRATEFUL that a storm front had cleared the beach of strollers, Angie walked purposefully toward the shoreline. She removed her sandals and let the lacy scallops of the sea’s petticoat wash over her feet, mesmerized by its gentle ebb and flow. The sand felt cool and solid beneath her. The air grew denser, until the mist separated into distinct drops that kissed her face. Only a few days ago she’d come to the ocean with a totally different intention: where she’d sought an ending then, she awaited answers now, a settling of her self that would allow the truth to surface.