“Well, I doubt she will ever make that mistake twice,” Cain remarked, glaring at Adriel’s son.
Dane was confused. He was beginning to think his new brother wasn’t that great either. “Wait, what does this Elizabeth woman have to do with my situation?”
Eleazar folded his hands on the table and faced him. “Elizabeth conceived the day of her accident. Nine months later she gave birth to a female named Magdalene. She is half-mortal.”
Clarity came. If this female was half-mortal, she would be able to give them some information. Dane wondered if she was more like him or them. Since discovering he was half-immortal he realized it really didn’t change much. He guessed that was why he could sometimes see into people’s minds, but other than that, there was nothing remarkable about him.
Warmth bloomed in his chest. Would this change things with Gracie? Would she see him differently now? He suddenly asked, “Is Magdalene married?”
Christian frowned. “No, she is not married.”
Dane settled back in his chair. Big brothers sucked. Cain suddenly barked, “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”
A while later, after explaining everything to Cain, who seemed to be the only other person concerned about why this information didn’t alter Cybil’s situation, they all squeezed into a buggy and headed toward the Esch part of the farm. Larissa had remained behind, claiming she needed to get Mariah from Grace.
“She should have transitioned then,” Cain whispered to Dane in the back of the buggy.
He shrugged. “You would think, but clearly that didn’t happen. Maybe there’s something wrong with your blood.”
Cain’s eyes went wide. “Perhaps.”
They rode in silence the rest of the way. The Esch homes were similar to all the rest on the farms, with large wraparound porches, picket fences, laundry blowing on the line, and shutters around the windows.
As Christian directed the horse onto the dirt lot to the left of the house, a woman with a head full of tight blonde curls turned. Her face was youthful, and her cheeks were round. Her eyes widened when she spotted the bishop, and she quickly tugged a bonnet out of her apron pocket and situated it on her head, wedging her springy curls underneath the lace. She folded her hands and waited at the top of the porch as their crew climbed down from the buggy.
“Bishop King,” she greeted in a soft voice.
Eleazar looked to Christian, and the other man nodded. Looking back at the girl, the bishop said, “Good to see you, Magdalene. We have come to visit with you and your mother. Is she about?”
The girl appeared taken off guard by their presence. Dane suspected the bishop didn’t come out this way much. “She is in the house. Would you like me to find her for you?”
“Please.”
The girl nodded and disappeared into the house. A moment later a woman with the same heart-shaped face stepped out. She dusted her hands on her black apron, leaving floury prints of white. “Bishop King?”
“Hello, Elizabeth. We were wondering if we might have a word with you and your daughter.”
The woman looked to Magdalene and back to the bishop. “Is something amiss?”
Cain stepped forward, and Elizabeth started. “Cain?”
He approached her slowly and kissed her cheek. “How are you, Elizabeth?”
She smiled at him nervously. “You tell me. It is not often the bishop visits us.”
Cain’s easy grin seemed to set the woman at ease. “Worry not. We just want to ask you some questions. There is nothing amiss.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Please come in.”
The house was quiet. All the windows were opened, and a soft spring cross breeze traveled through the home. Whatever Elizabeth had been making took up a great deal of space on the counter. Dane felt Magdalene’s eyes on him as she brought a pitcher of lemonade to the table.
When everyone was sitting, Elizabeth gave a shaky sigh. “What did you have to ask us?”
Dane noticed Christian looking anywhere but at Elizabeth. Eleazar sighed. “We need to know about all the ways Magdalene is different from us.”
Both women started. “Wh–what do you mean, Bishop King?”
“I apologize for placing you in this awkward position, but we seem to have stumbled across some information and need to find out anything we can about half-breeds.” When Elizabeth made an offended sound he quickly corrected, “My apologies. Half-immortals.”
Magdalene’s gaze bore into Dane, and he ignored her. Touching on her mind, he saw various images of her in her youth struggling with different situations that required a measure of agility. Her falling from a tree, scraping a knee, cutting her hand. He then saw an image of himself and figured she had guessed why they were making such inquiries.
“Maggie is just like the rest of us,” Elizabeth said. “She heals a little slower and is still aging, but her body doesn’t scar.”
Dane thought about scars. When he was nine he fell off his bike. His palm had slid across the blacktop, and gravel had been embedded in his flesh for days. For months there were black dots under his skin which had taken on a silver pigment from the damage. He looked down at his palms. No scars.
“And what about her diet?” Eleazar asked.
“I couldn’t nurse her if that’s what you are asking. At least not the way your females do. Maggie didn’t start ingesting…” she looked at him for a moment as if considering if she needed to guard her words.
“It is fine to speak truthfully in front of Dane,” the bishop assured her.
Elizabeth nodded. “She didn’t start ingesting blood until sometime around her eighteenth birthday. Maggie had grown lethargic, and her moods were off. The sun bothered her, and she suffered dizzy spells. It took us a while to discover the cause, but once she tried feeding, her body righted itself.”
“Those sound like the symptoms of a calling,” Adriel said. “Perhaps she is being called. Have you ever dreamed, Magdalene?”
Magdalene smirked, and two deep dimples formed in her ivory cheeks. “I dream almost every night.”
Everyone at the table aside from her mother seemed intrigued by this. Eleazar looked at him. “Do you dream, Dane?”
He shrugged. “I guess. I had a lot of nightmares after my mom died. Other than that I just dream normal stuff. Nothing special. Why? Don’t you guys dream?”
“Only when we are being called,” Christian remarked.
“I imagine that will make things difficult for you, Magdalene,” the bishop remarked.
“Oh, I don’t ever expect to be called,” Magdalene admitted, seeming undisturbed by this. “I’m not really all that much like the rest of you. I can’t do anything special. I don’t have any disciplines, and the males on the farm look right past me.” She shrugged. “I am unsure if that is because of my father or because of something I put off.”
The girl seemed very normal. Her mother looked uncomfortable but kind. A while later, when the conversation eased from “half-breeds” to details of the Hartzlers and the bishop’s new family, Dane excused himself and went to wait outside.
As he sat on the front steps, the sound of the screen door whining open and snapping shut sounded behind him. He turned, and Magdalene was coming out with his glass of lemonade.
She sat down beside him, her mauve skirt brushing against the black of his slacks. Her feet were bare, and he thought of Gracie until he noticed polish on her toes. Polish was an Amish no-no. He found her feet all the more amusing for it.
“You forgot your lemonade,” she said, handing him the glass. The cool condensation soothed the inside of his palm.
“Thanks.”
“So you’re like me? A half-breed?”
Dane frowned. He didn’t really care for that term either. “I guess.”
“It’s not that bad. I mean, the blood takes a while to get used to, but I’ve been around it all my life. Everyone’s pretty polite about me being different, but they never forget it, you know?”
Dane knew ex
actly what it was like to be different. He looked down at the chipped pink of her toes peeking past her gown.
“Did you always know what you were?”
“They told me when I was thirteen. I had never left the farm. My mother’s sort of overprotective and doesn’t like anything English, which is ironic, being that I am half-English. Many of my friends were taking buggies into town on their own at that point or at least with family, but I was never allowed. That was when she explained to me what had happened to her. It’s sad.”
Dane nodded. “Something bad happened to my mom, too.” He wasn’t sure why he just told her that.
Her small hand pressed through the starched fabric of his shirtsleeve. “I’m sorry.” They looked at each other for a moment, no explanation of what had happened to his family necessary. Magdalene had small flecks of green in her blue eyes.
He nodded. “Thanks.”
“Do you think you’ll stay here?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I have a house not too far from here I could live in, but I still have some things here that require me to stay.”
“You seem pretty friendly with Bishop King. Perhaps he would let you build a home here. There is an old barn just down that way that’s been vacant for some time. It would make a nice house if someone put the time into it.”
Dane looked where she pointed. He spied the silhouette of the barn she was referring to in the distance. As much as he appreciated the Hartzlers’ hospitality, he felt the growing need for his own space. “Maybe I’ll ask him about that.”
“If you ever wanted to go see it, I could take you.”
She was a very nice girl. Adriel had said she was in her twenties, but she looked younger than the rest of them. She even looked a little younger than Grace. “Thanks, Magdalene. I’d like that.”
Her dimples showed. “Call me Maggie.”
At the end of the day, he had left the bishop’s and returned to Ezekiel and Faith’s. He was exhausted, too tired to even eat. As he climbed the steps, he heard someone call his name. Turning, he found Gracie running through the gates of her grandparents’ yard, her black skirts fisted in her hands and her booted feet patting into the gravel.
“Dane.” She slowed as she approached the steps. “How are you?”
Her blue eyes shone up at him. “I’m okay.”
Her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath. “I spoke with Larissa. She told me about your father.”
His lips pressed together. He didn’t want everyone to know his business. He didn’t care that Larissa told Grace, but he didn’t want her telling everyone else. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said, tired of the news already.
“What do you mean? This changes everything. You’re like us.”
“No, I’m not.” She jerked back at his words. He didn’t know why the idea of Gracie suddenly seeing him differently irritated him, but it did. “I’m still the same guy, Grace. This changes nothing.”
“But…you’re immortal,” she said quietly.
“Only half.”
Her blue eyes flashed at him. She didn’t have the same green flecks as Maggie. Gracie’s were more silver. She scowled. “Who’s Maggie?”
“What?” He slammed down a wall on his thoughts. “She’s just some girl we went to talk to today. Her dad was mortal.”
Her chin shot in the air. “Oh, Magdalene. And I suppose she is just like you then.”
He frowned. “Don’t be catty, Grace. Maggie’s a nice girl.”
“Oh, it’s Maggie then, is it?” Her dark lashes flickered over her blue eyes. “Well...I am sure the two of you will be great friends.”
“Why are you being like that?”
“I am not being any way,” she said stiffly. “Ferleicht you and Maggie can join us for supper sometime this week.” Her voice rose, and her lashes fluttered wildly. “We can all be great friends!” She turned and briskly stomped away, but not before he noticed the way her eyes glazed. Her emotions had left her thoughts wide open. She was upset.
Sighing, his traipsed after her and grabbed her arm. When he turned her to face him, twin trails of tears ran down her cheeks. Crap. “Grace, why are you crying?”
“I am not crying, Dane Foster,” she said, swiping her palm roughly under her eyes.
He stepped closer and wiped a tear from under her lashes. Softly, he whispered, “Yes, you are. Why are you so upset?”
She swallowed and stomped her foot impatiently. Blinking back more tears, she pressed her lips together and glared at the sky. “Because I am a foolish girl. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get upset.”
He stepped a little closer. In a low voice he said, “But you are upset. Why?”
Her pert mouth formed a straight line. She shook her head. “It is nothing. I just thought…I just…” When she couldn’t complete the statement, he looked into her mind. Visions of him and her together poured out of her, many flashing back to his birthday.
“But I’m not your mate…”
More tears fell. “I know. It’s just…Eleazar was over five hundred when he was called.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be called, Gracie. I’m different. My blood is the only thing remotely similar to you. I don’t want to be second choice to your destiny.”
“You wouldn’t be.”
He shook his head. It had taken a long time, and he didn’t know when it finally sunk in, perhaps it was when Maggie explained everything with such acceptance. Either way, he had realized that Grace was right. It was foolish for them to get involved when she would someday be called to another. “Yes, I will, Grace,” he told her softly. “Someday you will be called, and another male will come along and claim you.”
Her lips trembled. “But what if that never happens?”
“It will. I don’t want you for a short time.”
She sniffled. When had her feelings toward him changed? Suddenly she leaned up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her close. The kiss was chaste. As far as he knew it was only the second time either one of them had ever kissed someone, the first time being the kiss they shared on his eighteenth birthday.
Her body was warm, and she trembled in his arms as he pulled her flush against his front. His head slanted, and she made a small little moan. He tasted her. She was as sweet as he remembered.
When he eased away and broke the kiss, her tears had dried and her cheeks were flushed. She peeked through her lashes at him nervously. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “I’m going to ask Eleazar to let me build a house on the farm.”
Her slightly swollen lips curled sweetly. She was so incredibly pretty. “You’re staying?”
He nodded. “For a while.”
Chapter 33
Destiny sat in a bar, sipping the last of her watered-down iced tea and vodka. Her hair was loose and clinging to her bare shoulders. She crossed her legs and admired her black dress. It had been a beautiful wedding, even if her date was a tool bag she would never be calling again. She should have left hours ago, but going home alone seemed the last nail in her coffin.
Constance, the bride, had been the last of her single friends. It was only Destiny now. Everyone else was having babies and buying homes and minivans and contributing to the bigger picture in some way or another. Not Destiny, though. Nope.
The bartender came over and asked if she wanted another. She nodded and reached for her purse. The small clutch slipped out of her hands and fell to the floor. She groaned.
“Let me get that for you.”
Her spine stiffened as chills raced up her neck. Bracing herself for something hideous, because there was no way, according to her luck, that that deep sexy voice was connected to something actually decent looking, she turned. The man was tall with dark hair. He had a strong jaw and bright blue eyes. His hair was a little long for what she considered trendy, but he managed to pull it off.
“Mind if I sit down?”
&
nbsp; Words, Destiny, use words! “Sh–sure.”
He sat down beside her and smelled nice. Not like her wedding date who had taken a bath in drugstore cologne. This man smelled clean, spicy, with a trace of leather.
The bartender delivered her drink, and she waited for the man to say something. She fidgeted when he still hadn’t said anything for some time. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“You are Destiny Santos, the reporter from Channel Six, correct?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
He smiled and looked toward the bar. Was that it? Did he have nothing else to say? Was he a fan? Did he maybe work for some competing channel and not like her? He said nothing. Finally she sighed and dropped a twenty on the bar. “Nice talking to you,” she mumbled under her breath.
He swiveled in his seat. “Are you seeing anyone?”
What the hell was with this guy? “Um, no.”
“Good.” He seemed ready to turn back around. She rolled her eyes.
“Did you want to get a drink or talk?”
“Oh, no thank you. I’m married. My wife wouldn’t like that.”
Her jaw fell wide open. Only to her did this kind of stuff happen. “Well, thanks a lot—”
“Adam,” the man supplied.
She plastered on a smile and gritted through her teeth, “Adam.” She turned and left the bar.
* * * *
Destiny awoke frustrated. She really needed to change her diet. She had been having so many off-the-wall dreams lately.
Her dress for Constance’s wedding hung on the wall across from her. She looked at the clock and sighed. If only her dream had been real and the wedding was already over. She might as well get up. She had a whole day of bridesmaid hell ahead of her.
After showering she called Vito. Her dream had left a bad taste in her mouth, and she wasn’t looking forward to her date.
“Hey, little sis,” he answered.
“Hey. You feel like going to a wedding with me?”
Destiny Calls Page 25