by Sarah Wynde
“I should go,” Nat continued.
“Don’t you want to watch? Or at least say good-bye?”
“Grace bought her a doll online so I told her I’d see her again and bring her the doll. But this is a job for professionals now. I’m glad I could help. And that I was there last night.” The words were a dismissal, but Colin wasn’t ready to be dismissed.
“Speaking of last night…” Quickly, Colin stepped in front of the door. “We need to talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Nat lifted her chin into the air, her eyes meeting his squarely.
“Sure there is. I was supposed to die. And I didn’t. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
Nat spread her hands. “Congratulations. I’m glad you survived. Now…” She shrugged. “Now I don’t ever want to speak to you again.”
“Nat,” Colin protested. Surely she could see she was being unreasonable.
“You made your choice a long time ago. Freedom, remember? Space?”
Colin opened his mouth to argue. He’d said that, sure, but it had always been bullshit. She had to know that. Yes, he’d broken up with her—dumped her, as she’d so bitterly said at the time—but it was for her own good.
Before he could speak, though, Nat continued, “I don’t know why you’re alive but I know it doesn’t matter to me that you are. I don’t care about you anymore, Colin.” Her voice was edged with the same bitter fury of a decade ago.
Colin took a deep breath, paused and let it out on a low, slow exhale. Nat had always been a lousy poker player. He knew she was lying. If nothing else, the fact that she was still so angry meant her feelings weren’t dead and gone. But debating with her would do nothing but strengthen her resolve. He needed a better approach. A plan. Maybe even a way to earn her forgiveness.
Stepping aside, he wordlessly gestured to the doorway, before taking the three steps forward that brought him next to the glass. He might have no choice but to let her go, but he wasn’t going to watch.
Staring ahead blindly, he tried to focus on the scene in the interview room, but until he heard the soft snick of the door shutting behind Nat, he couldn’t make his eyes see what was happening. When he finally did, he saw that Kenzi had backed herself against a wall and was looking as frozen as he felt.
Damn.
Looked like nobody was going to be doing much talking today.
Chapter Six
Natalya slid into her father’s favorite booth at Maggie’s bistro, her back to the door. She’d spent the short walk from the sheriff’s office talking herself down from her own irrational anger, but she could still feel the edges of it against her skin, a low-grade irritant like a mosquito bite on a humid day.
It made no sense to be angry, she told herself. Not at Colin, not at the world. Despite her words to him, she was glad the moment she’d dreaded for so long had finally come to pass and he’d emerged unscathed.
But Colin had had too much of her for too long—too much attention, too much love, too much anger. He wasn’t getting it back, no matter what he wanted. He’d broken her heart. Trampled her feelings into the dust. Been a callous, heartless, selfish bastard.
Still, it was a long time ago. She was over it, she reminded herself, trying to let go of the memories and the feelings they stirred. She took a breath, forcing her mind to one of the calming exercises she liked.
Let the thoughts drift away, like clouds in the sky, she told herself. Just clouds, just drifting.
Over the years, she’d grown adept at shoving him out of her mind and she intended to keep doing so. The status quo worked: she’d spent two years in Tassamara barely acknowledging his existence. She wanted to go back to that polite coolness. If only she could stop scratching at the thoughts. Why the hell was he alive?
And who was the girl? Leaving Kenzi behind at the sheriff’s office felt wrong. What choice did she have, though? The psychologist would interview her. DCF would take responsibility for her. With any luck, she’d be home by nightfall. The only task left for Natalya was to deliver the doll Grace had promised.
It still felt wrong. The psychologist had been abrupt, harried. She’d made it clear driving to Tassamara was an inconvenience. She’d probably planned to spend the day at home with her own family. Natalya hoped she wouldn’t rush the interview or jump to easy conclusions. Kenzi needed patience, kindness, a gentle touch. Natalya knew and liked the counselor who worked with the local agency. It was a pity she was out of state for the holiday.
“What’s wrong? You look upset.” At the sound of her father’s voice, Natalya twitched, startled. She’d been scowling down at the table surface, so lost in thought she hadn’t seen him arrive. He seated himself across from her, frowning, his brows drawn down over his bright blue eyes. “Are you all right? What can I do?”
She forced a smile then felt it soften into a real smile at the sight of the worry in his expression. Maybe it was her own anxiety about Kenzi driving the thought but she couldn’t help realizing how lucky she was. No parent was perfect. Max could be overprotective and managing, sure he knew best and wrong about that. But he loved her unconditionally. He’d do anything to keep his children safe and happy.
“I’m fine. You just startled me.”
Max’s frown grew deeper. “I did what? You don’t startle easily.”
Natalya’s smile grew wider. “Interesting, isn’t it?”
And then there was her foresight to consider. Where had it gone? All morning long, she’d been reaching for knowledge and finding it absent. It was like having a missing tooth. She couldn’t resist poking at the spot where she ought to find solid matter and instead finding only empty space. “My foresight is gone.”
“Gone?” Max’s brows shot up in alarm. “Gone how? Is that even possible?”
“Apparently it is.”
“Were you hurt? Did you hit your head?”
“No, no.” Natalya waved her hand, dismissing that idea.
“What happened?” Max asked.
Natalya paused. Colin was a sensitive subject between them. But she knew her father would learn the whole story eventually. Grace knew, Colin knew, she knew, and in Tassamara, what three people knew had a way of spreading through the entire town like a virus.
“Hey, Max, Natalya.” Akira joined them, dropping herself onto the seat next to Natalya without waiting for a response.
Her future sister-in-law would have to switch to maternity clothes soon, Natalya noticed. Her casual black t-shirt stretched tight across her rounded stomach and she was wearing a skirt instead of her more typical blue jeans.
“I hear you had an adventure last night, Nat. How’s the little girl?” Akira continued.
Okay, like a highly contagious virus. How had Akira heard? “Grace called you?”
“No, Rose told me.”
“Rose?” Natalya repeated, trying to place the name.
“You know,” Akira reminded her, voice patient. “The ghost that lives in my house. She was babbling about it this morning. Not making a lot of sense, actually, but I think I got the gist.”
“Oh, of course.” Natalya thumped the table with a closed fist. “The girl in costume Colin mentioned. I should have guessed.” She’d suspected last night that Colin’s story wasn’t a dream. “Colin thought she was a shina… something or other. Some kind of spirit guide.”
“Spirit guide?” Max leaned forward, laying his hands flat on the table.
“Hmm, I wouldn’t call her that. Not exactly.” Akira’s mouth tilted up at the corners in a mysterious smile.
“What happened to Colin? Why did he think he needed a spirit guide?” The lines of worry in Max’s forehead deepened.
“So did you find out who the little girl is and how she got lost?” Akira asked at the same time.
“But what was Rose doing?” Natalya asked Akira. The road leading to her house was miles from town. Why had Rose been wandering so far from home? Did she have some sort of connection to Kenzi? But if she did, would
n’t she know who Kenzi really was? “How did she even get there? Do ghosts go for hikes?”
“Natalya.” Max interrupted, speaking in the firm, fatherly tone he used to use to send her to bed or tell her to stop fighting with her sister. “I’m worried about you, not ghosts. Please tell me what happened.”
Natalya smiled an apology. “Sorry, Dad. It was…”
She paused. What were the right words? The moment she’d dreaded for years? The night that changed her life long before it happened? Her nightmares finally come true? “It was my vision,” she continued at last. “You know the one. The dark night, Colin, the side of the road. The whole thing. Except it didn’t come true. Colin wasn’t dead, just unconscious.”
She glanced at Akira. Akira hadn’t lived in Tassamara a decade earlier. She wouldn’t know what Natalya meant. But Natalya found herself reluctant to explain. It was old news. To tell the story—the whole story—would mean reliving the pain.
“Is Colin all right?” Max put his hand over Natalya’s, squeezing it gently. “Are you all right?”
“He’s fine.” Natalya pressed her lips together. The sympathy she heard in her father’s voice brought unexpected tears simmering up in the back of her eyes. She had nothing to cry about, though. Nothing at all.
“And are you all right?” Max’s voice was gentle as he repeated the question, his hand tight and warm on hers where it lay on the table.
She turned her hand up and squeezed his, holding on to him, and nodded before letting go, blinking back the prickling in her eyes. “I’m fine, too,” she said, keeping her voice even. “He wasn’t dead. I took him to GD and ran a scan on him and saw nothing to indicate ongoing health problems. I don’t know what happened, or how it happened, but he’s healthy. He’s not going to die. Or at least not the way I saw him dying.”
“Are you sure?” Max asked. “Could it have been the wrong night?”
The corner of her mouth lifted up. “Me stumbling over his body by the side of the road in the middle of the night always seemed like a one-in-a-million chance. To have it happen twice would have to be more like one-in-a-billion. No, I think… I think my foresight was wrong.”
“Oh, I have to talk to Rose again.” Akira almost bounced in the seat, as if resisting the impulse to get up and leave immediately. “She didn’t tell me anything about the sheriff. Well, ah, that is, not anything much about the sheriff. Nothing about him dying, anyway.”
Her eyes met Natalya’s and Natalya knew immediately what Rose had told Akira. The tingle of tears was entirely gone as a flush of embarrassment surged into her cheeks, only to be replaced by resigned amusement. If ghosts carried the news, no wonder gossip spread so quickly in Tassamara.
“Your foresight was wrong,” Max mused, as the teenaged waitress approached their table. “That doesn’t happen much.”
Emma’s blonde hair was tipped with purple and she wore matching purple eyeliner in heavy streaks around her eyes. She carried a tall glass of icy sweet tea and a spinach salad. Without bothering to greet them, she asked, “You on breakfast or lunch?” as she placed the food in front of Natalya.
“Breakfast,” Max said quickly before Akira had a chance to respond.
“Not you.” Emma dismissed him. She lifted her chin in Akira’s direction. “Maggie told me to ask you.” She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, before adding in a hushed whisper, “She didn’t seem real happy about it.”
Max sighed. “Do you know what she’s making for me?”
Emma patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Grilled chicken and roast vegetables. The veggies are a winter squash mix, with fresh rosemary and sage. You’ll like it, I swear.”
He looked resigned, although he muttered a complaint under his breath, something about women holding grudges. Maggie, the owner and cook at the town’s only real restaurant, maintained a menu of casual favorites. It was diner food with a flair—pancakes stuffed with wild Maine blueberries, burgers with sweet potato fries, meatloaf topped with a barbecue sauce glaze that gave it a spicy kick. But the menus were only for the tourists. For the locals, Maggie cooked what she pleased. Most often, it was exactly what they wanted.
A few weeks ago, though, the bistro temporarily shut down because of electrical problems. Maggie blamed Max for the trouble. Ever since, she’d been taking revenge via food, cooking him meals that were not his favorites, although they were still better than anything he could make for himself or get elsewhere.
“Got it.” With a cheerful finger wave, Emma headed toward a neighboring table.
Akira leaned against the cushioned back of the bench, one hand resting on the curve of her belly. “Henry and I don’t seem to share taste in food,” she said with a worried frown. “We’re confusing Maggie. I hope this doesn’t mean he’s going to be a picky eater.”
“How many times am I going to have to apologize?” Max grumbled. “It’s not as if it was even my fault. I didn’t ask that ghost to show up. And I got the building inspector out here the very next day.” He stared at the kitchen for a moment, before standing in resolve.
“I’m just going to go talk to Maggie,” he said. Absently, he patted the back of Akira’s hand. “Don’t worry, dear. Zane didn’t eat anything but hamburgers, french fries, and white rice until he was ten or so. It didn’t hurt him.”
“Oh, why does that not surprise me?” Akira’s frown turned into a reluctant chuckle as Max moved away from the table.
Maggie hated people coming into her kitchen while she was working. If Max wanted forgiveness, interrupting her wasn’t the way to get it, Natalya thought. But she didn’t stop him. She wanted to talk to Akira alone.
“Speaking of Zane,” she said, reaching up with a nervous hand to squeeze the pressure points at the base of her skull, “did you happen to mention…”
Akira bit her lip. “Sorry. It was a surprise. I didn’t know…”
Natalya sighed.
“You and the sheriff?” Akira asked, her tone a little plaintive, a lot amused.
“It’s a long story,” Natalya muttered, pressing harder. Her impending tension headache was going to be a doozy. She needed to get to Zane. Order him to talk to no one. She’d need to bribe him somehow. Or maybe blackmail?
“Zane was rushing out the door, though. He was late to a lesson with Dave. He didn’t say much, just blinked a lot. Maybe he didn’t hear me?”
Natalya let her hand slide from the back of her neck to cover her eyes. Great. If Zane was spending two hours in a plane with Dave, she’d already lost her chance to shut him up. And Dave talked to everyone. By tomorrow morning, she’d be fielding questions from half the town and all of Colin’s sisters. She dropped her hand and picked up her fork.
“I think I’d better savor this salad,” she said. “I may be hiding out in my house for the next few months.”
“Seriously?” Akira looked dismayed. “The sheriff’s not married. He’s cute. Why can’t you fool around with him if you want to?”
Natalya’s smile was rueful.
“You shouldn’t let other people dictate your sex life,” Akira said earnestly. “Your body belongs to you. It’s nobody’s business what you choose to do with it.”
“We have history.” Natalya took a bite of salad.
“Oh.” Akira fell silent, but Natalya could see the question in her eyes.
Reluctantly, she finished chewing and told the story. “Growing up, he was Lucas’s best friend. I was the little sister. You’d think, boys being boys, they’d have treated me like the pest I probably was. But it was never like that. Colin treated me—well, not like a little sister. Like a pet, maybe. A much loved pet.”
The memories were flooding back. Colin helping her climb into their treehouse, dragging her along when the ice cream truck drove by, pausing to wait for her when the boys’ longer legs let them go faster on their bikes. Swimming in the springs, cheering at one another’s Little League games, helping her with her math homework—he was there in so much of
her past, a second big brother. The time she broke her collarbone, he was the one who walked her home and held her hand when she cried.
“When he was fifteen, his parents died. Drunk driver. He was so sad. So quiet. He’s got lots of family, so he wasn’t alone, but I was the one he talked to. He was still Lucas’s best friend, but he was my best friend, too. I went with him to his senior prom. Just friends. By my senior prom, everything changed. He was my world.”
She stabbed her fork into a piece of spinach. The salad dressing was unexpectedly warm, rich with flavors of bacon and caramelized onion. It was delicious, but she’d lost her appetite. She let the fork drop.
“We were engaged. I’d graduated from college and he’d finally gotten the job he wanted as a deputy sheriff in Tassamara. And I had a premonition. Of his death. Or rather, of finding his dead body by the side of the road.”
“Oh, Natalya,” Akira murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Natalya forced her lips into an expression resembling a smile. “It was a long time ago.” She went on, keeping her voice steady. “I recognized the uniform, so I wanted him to quit his job. I knew it would be near a forest. We could have moved away, lived by the ocean, maybe the desert. We argued. And argued, and argued. And then we broke up.”
Positioned side-by-side as they were, it took only a slight motion of her head to turn her face away from the sympathy in Akira’s eyes. But she could feel her presence, warm and comforting, and it compelled her to add the truth. “Not really. He dumped me. Told me we were through and I should move on with my life. He didn’t want to see me any more.”
She took a sip of tea. Her head was throbbing now, a pained tempo beating in time with her pulse.
“He wasn’t willing to try to stop himself from dying?” Akira sounded incredulous.
“I like to say the future I see is a possibility. That our choices are our own. That we make our destiny. But when I see the future, it comes true.” Natalya could hear the bitter undercurrent in her own voice. “I try to make changes sometimes. It doesn’t usually work. One way or another—sometimes because of what I do—the future always happens as I see it.” She looked back at her future sister-in-law and added, “At least until last night. Funny timing, isn’t it?” Her chuckle held no amusement.