“In four months,” Melanie said.
“Yeah, that’s less than half a year. I babysit other people’s children, Mom. I don’t need you to babysit me.”
“It’s not babysitting, Ange. It’s ‘caring for.’ Being a good mother. You know. Parenting,” Melanie said. Her pancakes lay untouched in a pool of syrup.
“Mom, I’m fine.”
“I know! I’m the one making sure you’re fine. You know, making you dinner, doing your laundry—these are things I might not be able to take care of so much if I was getting my paralegal degree.”
“Sure you could,” Veronica said, trying to sound light. “If you weren’t working, taking classes wouldn’t take up more of your time than your job does now. Besides, Angie’s such a big girl now, I bet she can do her own laundry.”
Angie rolled her eyes and then stuck her tongue out at Veronica.
“At least think it over some more, Mel,” Veronica said.
Melanie rolled her eyes, just like her daughter. “Fine,” she said, and dug into her pancakes again.
When they were done eating, Angie helped clean up the table and load the dishes into the washer. Then she trotted back up stairs and shut her door, turning on her music. As soon as she did, Melanie turned her attention back to Veronica.
“So you felt weird,” she prompted.
“I thought maybe we could talk a little more about this going back to school question,” Veronica said.
“No way,” Melanie said, giving the counter a quick wipe. “Today, it’s all about you.”
Veronica sighed. “Great.”
“So… you were telling me, even though things went well, you felt weird?”
Veronica pushed in the chairs around the table. “He was being sweet. He made me breakfast, and he wanted to spend the whole weekend together. He was really excited that I’d stayed the night.”
“Excited how? Like, he wanted to jump back into bed?” Melanie asked as she led Veronica into the living room, bringing their coffee mugs and the pot of coffee with them.
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“Man, I miss the days of being able to just spend a whole weekend in bed,” Melanie said, settling into the coach.
“It was more like he was all proud of himself for ending my dry spell. It was kind of icky,” Veronica said, sitting next to her.
Melanie contemplated this. Veronica wrapped her hands around her coffee mug to warm them. “Yeah, I’m not sure I’d like that either,” Melanie said.
“It was just sort of… tactless,” Veronica said. “And, kind of cute, too, you know, he was like a little kid who just did a wheelie. But then I started to worry that he was going to brag about it to everyone.”
“Who’s everyone?”
“I don’t know. His friends? His partner?”
Melanie cringed. “Ooh. You really think he will?”
“Maybe, I don’t know. I mean, people tell other people about their dates. Here I am, I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, but you’re not bragging about anything. You’re not telling me potentially embarrassing stuff about him—”
“Well—” Veronica said, “I bet he’d be embarrassed if he knew I said he was like a kid who did a wheelie.”
Melanie pursed her lips. “Maybe.”
“I think I just need to stop being so uptight. I’m just not used to dating. At least, not past the first date. It’s just normal stuff. He’s going to talk to about me to his friends, just like I’m talking to you. I can’t let it bother me.”
“But it does.”
“But it does!” Veronica wailed. She buried her face in her hands. “How can I make it stop?” She peered up at Melanie through her hair.
“Honey, you’re going to have to be honest with him about it.”
“Oh, Mellie, he’s going to think I’m so high maintenance.”
“So what?” Melanie said. “So you’re high maintenance. He might have gotten a clue about that when he met you at a crime scene, covered in blood.”
“Thanks for the memory.”
“I’m serious, though. You’re may be high maintenance, but it’s because you’re really special, V. I mean that.”
“And in the best possible way, I’m sure,” Veronica said dryly.
“Yes, I do!” Melanie insisted. “It’s not like real psychics are wandering around every street of the city. And being psychic is the reason you don’t date. So if dating is extra complicated for you, it’s because of your gift.” Melanie leaned back, triumphant, and sipped her coffee. Melanie always had been more comfortable with Veronica’s gift than Veronica was herself.
She sighed. “I’m afraid he’s going to realize it’s not worth all the drama.”
“What’s not?”
“Dating me.”
“Veronica, he’d be a fool to let you go.”
“I appreciate that you think so. But as we’ve clearly stated, I just got out of a three year dry spell. It would be really nice if I didn’t have to start the next one right away.”
“My point, Veronica, is that Daniel is not a fool. So he won’t decide you’re not worth the drama, or whatever. Besides, telling him he’s obnoxious for gloating over having sex with you isn’t drama. I’d slap Chris upside the head if he did that.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Veronica sipped some coffee.
“So you’ll talk to him,” Melanie said.
Veronica glanced at her, then looked around the room.
“V. You’ll talk to him.”
Veronica rolled her eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, missy. You know I’m right. This needs to be dealt with.”
“Okay! Okay,” Veronica said. “I’ll talk to him today when we take Harry to the lake. Now can we change the subject?”
“Sure.”
“How’s Chris?”
“Fine. He’s drowning in work, as usual, but it’s just as well because I want to be around for Angie, in case she needs me.”
“Mellie, you know she’s okay, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Melanie gave Veronica a tense smile.
“Mel, you both have been through a lot. But she’s okay. She’s going to be back to normal, sneaking out of her bedroom window…” Veronica’s voice trailed off.
Melanie sat upright and grabbed Veronica’s hand. “What? What, Veronica? What did you see?”
Veronica shook her head. “I didn’t see anything, then. But saying that just made me think…”
“What?” Melanie prompted her.
Veronica shook her head again. “It’s nothing. Just a dream.”
Melanie frowned. “V, the last ‘dream’ you told me about involved Sylvia Gomez getting murdered in McKinley Park. You want to maybe fill me in on this one? And what it maybe has to do with my daughter?”
“Nothing,” Veronica said. “Really. She wasn’t in it. She doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Just tell me about it.”
“Okay. I was with a bunch of kids. I was one of them.”
“Maybe you were Angie!”
“No. I really don’t think I was her.”
“Why not?”
Veronica thought about it. She couldn’t be sure, after all. Maybe it was something that was going to happen, in the future. Maybe Angie was going to make friends with Caitlin Garrity and her crowd, and she’d end up wanting to impress them by running across that freeway. But she couldn’t imagine it. Angie, smoking pot, with the words “fuck” and “slut” written on her fingers, climbing over a chain link fence and running into oncoming freeway traffic.
“I don’t think it was her,” she told Melanie.
“But you’re not sure.”
“I’m not sure. But if it was her, it’s something that hasn’t happened yet. And won’t happen for a while.”
“You dreamed about Sylvia because her killer was a danger to Angie, Veronica.”
“I’m not even s
ure this dream was a special one, Mel. Really.”
“Okay, just tell me the rest of it.”
“Okay. So I was with these kids, and it was nighttime. We were standing under a street lamp, and one of the kids wanted for us all to go to his place, because it was cold.” Veronica left out the part with the joint. No need to send Melanie on a rampage about something that might have nothing to do with her daughter.
“Okay,” Melanie said. She seemed to be relaxing a bit. Veronica wished she didn’t have to tell her the rest, but it would be terrible to withhold the whole story, if it did turn out to be Angie in the middle of it. They had to stop her from ever going out with that crowd. Those kids were bad news—daredevils who were going to get somebody killed, if the kind of stunt they had pulled in Veronica’s dream was any indication.
“Well, they didn’t want to have to walk to a bridge, and the kid’s place was on the other side of the freeway. So they decided to run across the freeway.”
“No way,” Melanie gasped.
“Yes way,” Veronica said. “And the girl I was… riding in—she fell and hurt her knee, so she couldn’t really run. In fact she fell again as she was crossing the freeway. A car nearly hit her, but one of the other girls pulled her out of the way, into the midsection.”
“Oh my god!” Melanie cried. “That’s terrible. She could have been killed.”
Veronica nodded. “I think what scared me the most, though, is that for a moment, she wanted to die. She was just going to give up and let the car hit her.”
“No!”
Veronica nodded.
“Oh my god,” Melanie said again. “What if it’s Angie? You know, the trauma she went through—oh, god, what if it’s eating away at her? Making her suicidal?”
Veronica didn’t know what to say. She knew Melanie was getting herself worked up, and unless Veronica could find a way to defuse her, she’d get hysterical. But on the other hand, what if it was Angie? Shouldn’t they take the dream seriously and find a way to prevent it from ever happening?
“Have you thought about setting up an appointment with a therapist?” Veronica asked.
That stopped Melanie short. She took a breath. “No,” she said. “I thought if I… I thought I could handle things. You know, if I was here for her…”
Veronica took Melanie’s hand. “Mellie, you’re the best mom I know,” she said. “And I think you’re doing an amazing job, dealing with what happened, and being there for Ange. But it can’t hurt to have a professional check in with her. Do you think she’d be upset?”
Melanie sighed and looked towards the stairs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll try to talk to her about it.”
“Yeah, just see what she says. If she’s okay with it, I know a couple of good child psychologists, who’ve worked with us at the school. I’ll give you their numbers. It might be a good idea, for someone from the outside to evaluate how Angie’s doing.”
Melanie nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. If you know someone good… I mean, there’s nothing worse than a bad therapist.”
“Totally. But there’s one in particular, she was the psychologist on staff when I first started. I hope she has openings. You’d love her.”
“Okay,” Melanie said. “Okay. I’ll talk to Angie about it.”
“Good,” Veronica said, hoping that this was the right move. She didn’t want Angie to feel like they were all over her business, but she also didn’t want to let things go, considering how bad it could get. With any luck, Angie would agree to be seen, and then the psychologist would give her a clean bill of health, and they could all stop worrying about Veronica’s dreams.
Chapter 6
Veronica was home, tidying up in anticipation of Daniel coming over to pick her and Harry up, when her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number. She considered letting it go to voicemail, but she was up to date on her bills so far this month, so she answered it instead.
“Hello?”
“Veronica?” it was a woman’s voice. She couldn’t place it at first.
“Yes.”
“This is Khalilah Jadeed.”
“Oh. Um. Hi Khalilah.” What on earth was she calling for?
“Hi. Look. I, uh… I was wondering if you’d meet with me.”
Veronica frowned at the wall. “You were?”
“Yes. Are you available tomorrow? After school?”
Khalilah also worked as a French teacher—it was how they met. She taught at Saint Patrick’s, the private school Angie attended when she met Grant Slecterson. Veronica sat in on Khalilah’s class, pretending to be doing it solely for her BTSA requirements, but in fact she’d gone to see what was troubling Angie.
“I—what’s this about?” Veronica asked.
“Veronica, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not get into it over the phone. Will you meet with me, or not?”
“I don’t know,” Veronica said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we didn’t exactly have a—I don’t know. You were pretty hostile last time we met.”
“You mean at Penny Coffee on Friday? I was planning to talk to you then, I just lost my nerve.”
“Lost your nerve?” Veronica rubbed her eye with one hand. “What does that mean?”
“I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to you, then. But now… well, I have to.”
“What…? I didn’t mean at Penny Coffee anyway,” Veronica said, trying to bring the conversation around somehow so that it would begin to make sense to her. “I mean when all those things happened, when we were looking for Angie. You were… hostile. You thought I was trying to trick Melanie.”
“Well, that detective told me you were a con, and clearly she was wrong,” Khalilah snapped. Daniel’s partner had opposed Veronica’s aid in the investigation, accusing her of running a scam. As it turned out, she was trying to keep Veronica from uncovering some of her own secrets, but Khalilah didn’t know that.
Veronica raised her eyebrows. “So… you want to see me to apologize?” she asked, although she could tell from Khalilah’s tone that that was not the case.
“Fine, look. I’m sorry,” Khalilah said, her tone suddenly pleading. “You’re right, I was beastly to you. But I didn’t believe you could do what you said and the only thing that made sense was what the detective said… I thought that you were colluding with that boy.”
“Gee, thanks for the sincere apology,” Veronica said, and then wished she hadn’t given in to the urge to be sarcastic. But her ability was a sore spot for her—all of her life she’d paid for what she could do, in myriad ways. She couldn’t just let Khalilah’s accusations go.
“Veronica, I said I’m sorry, and I am. After it was all over—I can’t deny what you did. It was real. I apologize for saying the things I said. I just want you to understand that I didn’t say them out of malice.”
Veronica didn’t answer right away. Then she released her breath. “Okay. I do understand. Apology accepted.”
“Good,” Khalilah said. “Now, will you please agree to meet with me tomorrow, at, say, four?”
“Where?” Veronica asked.
“Penny Coffee?”
“Alright.”
“Thank you,” Khalilah said. “I’ll see you then.”
“Are you sure you can’t give me some idea of what this is about?” Veronica asked.
“I’ll explain everything tomorrow. See you then.”
“See you then,” Veronica echoed, and then Khalilah hung up. Veronica gazed at the phone, feeling confused. At least Khalilah had apologized. That was something. Still, this whole thing was weird.
She went back to cleaning, wiping down the kitchen counter and disinfecting the bathroom. The cats, Binky, a three-year-old seal point Birman, and Blossom, an eight-year-old long-haired white cat, sat in the middle of the living room floor, watching her walk to and fro as if they were spectators at a tennis match. Harry was in the backyard. She shared it with her neighbor who had the other half of the duplex, but there was a wooden fence dividing it.
It was Daniel. As he came in he gave her a kiss on the mouth. It felt nice—his lips were soft and dry. She smiled at him.
“Are you about ready to go?” he asked.
“Let me change into some sneakers.”
Daniel waited as she did. Then she went and got Harry, who saw his leash and began dancing in circles, making it nearly impossible to put his harness on. Veronica often felt like she was letting him down, not taking him out to run and get his ya-yas out more often. Especially since her car was in the shop, it had been over a week since he’d gotten a decent walk. But he was a sweet dog and he didn’t seem to hold it against her.
“Well, looks like somebody’s happy to be going to the lake,” Daniel said.
“Folsom’s like Disneyland to Harry,” Veronica agreed. “Do you have a sheet on the back seat?”
“I forgot.”
She went to her linen closet and found an old flat sheet. “His paws will be muddy, I guarantee it,” she said.
Once they had everything ready and everyone was in Daniel’s car, they set off for Folsom Lake. It was a half-hour drive from Midtown Sacramento. Daniel put the radio on—oldies, of course—and sang along with all of the songs. Veronica relaxed into the seat and let her mind wander as she watched the buildings and trees fly by.
Why did Khalilah want to see her? She didn’t think it was just an attempt to renew the friendship. They hadn’t ever really been friends, anyway. When Veronica met Khalilah, she liked her. She admired her. Khalilah had emigrated from Tunisia. She spoke English, French, and Arabic. Not only was she credentialed in all three, but she held a doctorate and she was National Board certified, a high distinction for school teachers. Veronica was even a little intimidated by her. And Khalilah had been helpful, at first. She’d shared more information about Grant Slecterson and Angie’s difficulties at school than was strictly allowed. She clearly cared about her students.
Could this meeting have something to do with Angie? Maybe one of the kids who had been part of Grant Slecterson’s crowd was up to something. Grant had had quite a little following at Saint Pat’s. Maybe someone there missed him enough to want to seek out Angie. Maybe they blamed her for his death?
The Fire and the Veil (Veronica Barry Book 2) Page 5