Kathy shook her head. “You’ll have to ask him yourself.”
“Tell me. Please.” If Dad didn’t believe her, why was he with her? And if he did…if he did believe her, surely he’d want to contact Mom. And if he was in contact with my mother—if he was actually getting messages from her—why wouldn’t he share that with me? I’d give anything for even one word from her. One single word.
“Fiona, I’m sorry. It’s not my place to go against his wishes. You talk to him later, okay?” Kathy looked past me at the lineup forming on the other side of her table. Paying customers. “I better get to work. You two go have some fun.”
I stood there staring at her as she walked over and shook hands with a young woman with a green and orange scarf tied over black hair. Finally Abby grabbed my arm. “Fi. Come on.”
I shook off the arm and followed her away from Kathy’s table and down the first aisle, back past Crystal Man and the past-life booth.
“Wow,” Abby said. “That wasn’t what I expected.”
“No? Seemed about right to me,” I said. “Leading questions, general statements that could be interpreted in any number of ways.”
“But that stuff about my gran…”
“You told her yourself that your gran was dead. All she did was guess that she had gray hair and that she loved you.” I raised my eyebrows. “That’s a pretty safe guess.”
“The part about the beach though. We used to go to the beach together.”
“Yeah, along with half the people in Victoria. We’re surrounded by beaches. Besides, it could have meant that she lived near a beach or grew up near one, or that you had a picnic on a beach once. It could have been anything.”
“I guess.” Abby didn’t sound convinced.
“And if it meant nothing to you, she’d have thrown out something else. A flower, maybe, or a Christmas tree, or a teacup. Sooner or later, she’s going to hit on something. You were the one making the connections, not her.”
“You’re upset because she wouldn’t try to contact your mom, aren’t you?”
I stuck my hands in my pockets. “I don’t get it. Why would Dad tell her not to? Do you think he really believes this stuff?”
“He must. He’d hardly be dating her if he thought she was a liar, right?”
I snorted. “She is a liar. She’s either lying to him or— if she really believes this stuff—she’s lying to herself.”
Abby shook her head. “I don’t know, Fi. I thought so too, but she’s pretty convincing.”
“Yeah, right. And I suppose that if I ever meet anyone called Michael—which, by the way, is a pretty common name—it’s going to be more evidence that Kathy is for real. That was a classic technique, Abby. It’s right out of one of those library books.”
“What about the science-project thing?” Abby said defensively. “How’d she know about that?”
“You’re the one who said it was our science project. You gave her the answers, Abby. All she said was that some woman was smiling at us in a gym. It could have been anything.”
“A red letter A. You know Mrs. Moskin always uses red ink.”
I stamped my foot. “Abby! That was after you told her it might be our science project. And most teachers use red ink.” An idea was slowly forming in my mind. “Besides, I can make sure we don’t get an A. I won’t hand my stuff in on time. Or I’ll make a ton of little mistakes. I won’t bother underlining headings, and I’ll spell things wrong and…”
Abby grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face her. “Don’t you dare, Fiona! That’s my grade too, remember?”
I shrugged. “If you’re so sure that Kathy’s psychic, what are you worried about? She said you’ll get an A.”
“I can’t believe you’d even consider messing up our science project because Kathy suggested we’d get an A.” Abby screwed her mouth down to one side and shook her head. “That’s so wrong.”
“I won’t do it, okay? I’m just saying I could.”
“Yeah. You could wreck your own grades—and your best friend’s. Nice, Fi. Real nice.”
“You’re missing my point,” I said, raising my voice. “Which is, Kathy doesn’t know everything, okay? She can’t control what I do, so her predictions don’t mean anything.”
Caitlin’s soft voice cut in. “Mom says it’s a chancy business. She says the future isn’t written in stone. That we all have free will and can alter the course of events by our actions.”
So proving Kathy wrong wouldn’t help me either. She had an answer—an excuse—for everything. “How long have you been standing there listening?” I asked, scowling at her. “We were having a private conversation.”
“Could have fooled me,” Caitlin said. “You were practically shouting at Abby.”
“I was not.”
Abby looked at me. “Yeah, actually you were, Fiona.”
“Go ahead, take Caitlin’s side. You’ve already taken Kathy’s side anyway.”
“I have not!”
“You only liked her because she said you were intuitive. You think that wasn’t deliberate?” I knew my words would hurt her, but I didn’t care. “She tells you you’d be a good psychologist, and you’re so desperate to believe her that you forget every single thing we’ve read about how this works. Some researcher you are.”
Abby was staring at me like I was a stranger, and I couldn’t meet her eyes. My heart was thumping, and I could feel sweat trickling down my back. I looked around the room at all the people lining up and whispering and hoping and pretending to hope, and I hated myself for being a part of it. I wished Joni was here. She wouldn’t be tricked by a few lucky guesses and a flattering description of her personality.
I wanted to scream. Or cry. Or throw something. If I didn’t get out of here, I was going to lose it in front if everyone. I was going to grab Crystal Man’s stupid rocks and hurl them at Abby and Kathy and all the other idiots and phonies in this stupid place. “I’m going out for a few minutes,” I said. “You guys go ahead and get your auras read or whatever.”
I could hear Abby protesting as I walked away, but I didn’t look back.
seventeen
I stepped outside, and the sun shone straight in my eyes, dizzyingly bright. Away from the hum and stuffiness of the crowded hall, the air was cool and fresh. I walked quickly down Beacon Avenue, lifted my face to the breeze and smelled the musky salt smell of the ocean. Sidney-by-the-Sea is what the tourist brochures called this town. When Mom and I sailed to Sidney Spit, we usually went to the beach, explored the rocky, wind-swept cliffs and had lunch in Eliza J’s cockpit, but sometimes we took the little ferry to Sidney and wandered around the marine shops and bookstores. We ate halibut tacos and chips at Fish on Fifth and browsed the thrift stores for secondhand board games. Everywhere I looked, I was reminded robin stevenson of Mom, and I realized that this was the first time I’d been here since she died.
I made my way down to the waterfront and sat down on the grass, hugging my knees to my chest. There were lots of boats out today: small sailboats, their sails making sharp white triangles against the dark water; the harbor ferry chugging along; a couple of powerboats zipping toward Victoria. I closed my eyes and pictured Eliza J in the spot we always anchored, just off the spit. She was a heavy boat, with a full keel, and she sat at anchor more solidly than a lot of other boats. Mom and I would watch the lighter fin-keeled boats moving from side to side with the wind, and Mom would say, She may not be fast, but Eliza J is the kind of boat you want in a storm. She’s a boat you could cross the ocean in. And she’d wink at me, knowing I was planning to do exactly that.
What if the new people, the people who bought her, took her away somewhere? It would be awful enough to see other people sailing her out of our marina all summer, but what if the new people lived in Vancouver or Port Hardy or on the Sunshine Coast? I’d never see Eliza J again.
I had to see her. Even if the worst happened and she was sold and taken away somewhere, I had to see her at least once m
ore. I had to say goodbye.
I stood up, brushed the damp grass from my jeans and walked along the seawall, watching the boats and the water, hoping to see a seal poking its head out of the waves. Even this early in the season, there were lots of people around. Tourists with cameras dangling around their necks and maps clutched in their hands, half of them eating ice creams or greasy fries from paper cones. I wished I had some money. I was starving.
I knew I should go back to the hall, but I couldn’t stand the thought of returning to that big airless room. It was totally creepy: all those people pretending that the dead weren’t gone forever, pretending that they hung around, invisible but close by, waiting to send messages back just as long as their loved ones shed some cash along with their tears. The whole psychic scene made me sick, and I couldn’t believe Abby had been sucked right into it.
So I didn’t go back. I just walked around, looking at boats, watching the waves and trying not to think about anything at all.
“Fiona!” A voice cut through my thoughts, and I spun around. Kathy, flanked by Abby and Caitlin. “What were you thinking?” The wind blew Kathy’s hair across her face. She tucked it behind her ears roughly. “You’ve been gone for hours. I was beside myself.”
I shrugged. “Should’ve used your psychic powers to find me.”
Her mouth tightened into a pale ugly line, and she looked as if she wanted to slap me. I almost wished she would lose her cool and do it. Then at least I would have something to tell Dad.
“Abby guessed where you’d be.” She shook her head, and her hair escaped from behind her ears and whipped across her face again. “Your dad trusted me to look after you, and the second I turn my back, you run away.”
“I didn’t run away,” I protested. “I went for a walk. To get some fresh air. I’d have come back. It’s not like Sidney is New York or anything.”
“I’m taking you home.” She started walking, striding off in front of me, her boot heels clicking against the sidewalk cement. “Come on.”
Abby caught my eye. “Sorry,” she whispered. “She asked me where you were, and I didn’t know what to say.”
“I suppose you’re a believer now,” I said. “I suppose you’re on her side.”
Abby’s face got that wobbly look that comes right before someone starts crying. “I don’t know what to believe,” she said.
Traitor. I kept walking, following Kathy to the car.
We got into the car and headed onto the highway back to Victoria. No one spoke. I could see Kathy’s fingers drumming furiously against the wheel. I’d bet her aura was an ugly color right about now.
When we were halfway home, Kathy stopped at a red light and twisted in her seat to face me. “Did you run off because I wouldn’t try to contact your mother? Because I can see how that might upset you, but I can’t go against your father’s wishes. Surely you can understand that?”
“It’s not like I believe in this stuff anyway,” I said sullenly.
She sighed. “Being in contact with Nicole brought me such comfort. I’d love to give that to you, Fiona. I really would. But you have to talk to your father about it first. Would you do that?”
I couldn’t imagine that conversation. So, Dad, is it okay if your psychic girlfriend passes on the odd message from Mom? Any objections to me getting back in touch with her? “Do you give him messages from my mother?” I asked her.
She turned to face forward as the light turned green. “Talk to him, Fiona. Talk to him.”
Abby cleared her throat. “Who’s Nicole?”
Uh-oh. I bit my lip and looked out the window. I should’ve known that story would come out eventually.
“My daughter. My older daughter.” Kathy sounded surprised. “She died in a car accident with my husband. Nicole’s my guide in the spirit world. Didn’t Fiona tell you?”
“No,” Abby said. Her voice was very quiet. “No, she didn’t tell me.”
I turned to look at Abby. She was staring at me thoughtfully, and I could tell that she knew exactly why I hadn’t told her. “Sorry,” I mouthed.
She shook her head and looked away. Neither of us spoke the rest of the way home, and when we dropped Abby off at her house, she didn’t even say goodbye.
eighteen
I headed straight to my room. I figured Dad would give me a lecture as soon as Kathy had a chance to fill him in. I couldn’t decide whether I should ask him about letting Kathy try to contact Mom. Since I didn’t believe she could do it, it seemed stupid to ask. Still, there was that nagging possibility that I couldn’t leave alone. What if she could? I kept poking at that question the way you poke at a bruise, checking to see if it still hurts.
Sure enough, not more than five minutes had gone by before I heard Dad’s footsteps pounding up the stairs. He opened my door without knocking first.
“So.” He sat down beside me on the edge of my bed. “I guess you don’t need me to tell you that Kathy was pretty upset by what you did.”
“I didn’t do anything. I went for a walk, that’s all. I needed fresh air.” I stood up and moved away from him, walking a few steps to lean against my dresser. “She made this huge deal out of it.” A car door slammed and an engine started. I hoped that was the sound of Kathy leaving.
Dad took off his glasses and started wiping the lenses with the bottom of his shirt. “She said you asked her to contact your mom.”
“She was doing readings for us. She said she had a message from Abby’s gran.”
He kept polishing his glasses, working at it as if he was trying to wear a hole right through the lens. “I asked her not to get into that kind of thing with you. Thought it wouldn’t be helpful.”
“Thought what wouldn’t be helpful, Dad? Being lied to? Or talking to Mom?” I raised my voice. “Do you believe Kathy? Has she given you messages?”
Dad didn’t say anything for a long time. His eyes were pink and watery, and his mouth got this odd wavy look, sort of uncertain and shaky. “Fiona…”
I waited.
“I worry that it isn’t helpful for you. Thinking about this kind of thing. Better for you to try to move on with your life.”
“Tell me the truth,” I said. “Please. I need to know.”
He put his glasses back on, glanced up at me, took them off again. “I don’t know what I believe,” he said at last. “I’ve always been a practical sort of person, but Kathy does seem to know things sometimes. And the world is full of mysteries that defy explanation. You know that.”
I didn’t want to get off on a tangent about Stonehenge or crop circles. “Has she given you messages?” I asked again. “Has she said she can talk to Mom?”
“Look, I don’t want you talking to other people about this, okay? Or making too much of it.” He cleared his throat. “She gave me a message the first time I met her. She said that your mom wanted me to know that she was okay. She was happy. And she said that it was okay for me to move on.”
“Jesus, Dad—”
“Don’t swear.”
“—that is such bull. Mom wouldn’t be happy without us. You know she wouldn’t.” My chest got tight. “And telling you that it was okay to move on? Duh. Of course she’d say that if she wanted to, you know, go out with you.”
I expected him to be angry, but he just looked sort of sad and defeated. “I don’t know what to say, Fiona. I haven’t asked Kathy to get in touch with Jennifer again. In fact, we haven’t talked much about her…her communications. Not since that one time. Because…” He cleared his throat again. “Because I don’t know what to think about all this. But I do know that Kathy is a kind and intelligent woman who genuinely wants to help people. Who does help people.”
“She’s a liar. A big fake.” I thought about what Kathy had said the first time I met her—about the waves and the bright lights and the fear—but I didn’t want to tell Dad anything that might lend support to her claims.
He shook his head. “She believes in what she does. That much I know for sure. Her d
aughter, Nicole…”
“She told me.”
“Oh, honey.” Dad’s forehead creased, and his face got this crumpled sort of look. “To lose your partner and your child. I don’t think I’d have survived that. Having you to take care of was the only thing that kept me going.”
I swallowed, and it felt like a knife was lodged in my throat. I thought about all those weeks last spring when I stayed with Joni because Dad was so depressed and how sometimes I’d felt like Dad hadn’t even noticed that I was still around. “How did you meet her?” I asked at last.
His neck flushed red and blotchy. “I picked up her business card somewhere. Made an appointment.”
I stared at him. “Seriously? I mean, because she was, because she said she was a medium?”
He nodded. “You know, your mom wasn’t as much of a skeptic as you and me.”
“Mom didn’t believe this stuff.” I remembered the palm reader at the fair. “She thought it was fun. A laugh. Not something serious.”
“She used to have this Ouija board. When we were first married, she and her girlfriends would pull it out every weekend, more or less. They’d drink wine, get all giggly. Ask it questions, I guess.”
“Like what? What kind of questions?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Girl stuff, she said. They always kicked me out.” Dad laughed softly. “I don’t think Jennifer took it seriously. Still, when I saw Kathy’s card, I just thought, why not? Why not try it?”
I wanted him to keep talking about Mom. Not Kathy. “Because you missed her so much.”
“And because things were very unresolved between us. We fought before she left on that trip. Well, you know that. Your mother and I…we both said things we shouldn’t have said.”
I wondered what would have happened if Mom hadn’t died. Would she have come back to us? Or were she and Dad heading toward divorce? But I didn’t really want to know the answer.
“When your mom didn’t come back, I kept thinking about that last fight. I never said goodbye properly to her, didn’t tell her I loved her before she left.” He looked at me. “I really did love her, you know.”
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