"I know, but I can't hear or see them and those are important pieces to be missing, you know? Besides, it didn't feel like Fran throwing those rocks at me, and last night Gracie was scared. She wouldn't be scared of my mother."
"Well then for the sake of me and all of the ghosts trying to communicate with you, you need to get your gift back, pronto."
"Easier said than done."
"Maybe Linda can help?"
I'd been working with Linda, my psychic counselor, ever since my mother returned from the dead. Linda helped me work through the kinks of my gift and assured me I wasn't crazy. Lately we'd focused on fixing my gift, but so far nothing we tried worked.
Mel picked up her phone and poked the screen with her index finger.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling Linda."
Oh boy. She was determined and Mel in determined mode was scary. It ranked second to Mel in don't screw with my kids mode, which was feared worldwide. "Don't bother. I'm seeing her tomorrow."
Her eyes stayed glued to her phone.
"Mel?"
She looked up. "I'm sorry. Think she'll do it?"
"Do what?"
"Talk to Fran." She touched her neck with her fingers. "Didn't I just say that?"
"Nope."
"Oh." She tilted her head and gave me a half smile. "Sorry. My brain is working faster than my mouth."
"That's a first."
"Har dee har har."
"And I doubt she will. She said she wouldn't talk to my mother until she thought I was ready."
"But this isn't for you."
"I'm not sure that'll matter."
"Can you at least ask?"
"Of course."
"Thanks," she said.
"Do you think Nick knows you know?"
She rolled her eyes, which wasn't as annoying as when my daughter did it. "That would require him to talk to me so, no."
"What a tool."
"I prefer cheating rat bastard."
"Good one." I sipped my coffee. "I bet we can dig up some dirt on Nick without my mother."
Mel raised her eyebrows. "Go on."
I grabbed my phone and searched the Internet for how to catch your spouse cheating.
Mel moved her chair over to my side of the table. She looked at my phone. "You know I've done that, right?"
I nodded. "I figured, but look, there's all kinds of phone apps and stuff you could put on his phone." I swiped my phone's screen between different websites.
She shook her head. "Too risky. I don't wanna do that. We need to follow him, find out where he's banging his assistant."
I put down my phone. "Uh, he knows our cars."
"Yeah but if we're careful, he won't see them."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Well, other than using your mother, it's the only one I can think of."
"Lemme think about it for a bit, okay? I don't want to rush into doing anything that could make things worse for you."
She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. "I've got nothing but time."
"Are you keeping track of money and stuff?"
She nodded. "Yeah, for the most part. I'm writing down anything and everything. I researched divorce laws in Georgia. It's a no-fault state—which I think is a bunch of crap, but if I have proof, I think I'll have a better chance of getting what I want from him."
"You're probably right."
Mel rubbed her forehead and exhaled deeply. "I can't believe this is happening."
I rubbed her arm. "Me neither. I'm so sorry."
"Fran could get me what I need, you know?"
"I know."
"We gotta get your gift back, and not just for me, but for you, too. I know how much you miss your parents."
She was right about that. "I know. I'm doing all I can, but so far it's not working."
"Well, maybe Linda will have a solution."
I didn't think she would, but I didn't say that to Mel. Right now she needed to stay as positive as possible. I drank the last of my coffee. "Do you want a refill?"
"Nah. I need to run to the grocery store and get home. The kids will be up soon."
I walked her to her car. "I'm here for you, you know."
We hugged. "I know."
I cried on my drive home. In the past few years my life had been a rollercoaster ride full of loops and twists and stomach-shocking hills, and I couldn't catch my breath. I longed for the consistency of the mundane, of my old life, but deep down, I knew that life was gone forever.
***
I pulled into our cul-de-sac and saw Jake mowing the lawn, and my kids, Josh and Emily, arguing next to the driveway. I debated turning around and driving away but Jake waved and I blew that thought. I wouldn't have gotten far anyway because as much as my family drove me insane, they were mine and I loved them—most of the time, anyway.
I parked in the garage, got out of the car and stepped between my kids. "Can't you at least pretend to get along?" I yelled over the sound of the mower.
Emily's face was red. "Josh is gettin' all up in my business and like, it's pissing me off." Her hands moved to the flow of her frustration.
I gave my seventeen-year-old, smart-mouthed daughter the stink eye. "Language, Emily."
She cowered, her shoulders sinking. "Well, he is."
"What exactly does that mean, getting all up in your business?" I asked.
"He was reading my Facebook posts."
Josh pushed his chest out and held his chin up. "Was not."
Emily narrowed her eyes at her brother. "Was too."
"Was not."
I glowered at my husband mowing the lawn in blissful oblivion. I hated lawn work, but would have traded that for dealing with my kids in a heartbeat. "You have two thousand Facebook friends, Emily, and you don't even know two hundred people."
"So."
"So you don't care if strangers see your posts, but you throw a hissy fit if your brother does?"
Josh smirked and puffed his chest out further.
"Yeah," she said, completely unaware of how ridiculous that sounded.
"Then don't leave your Facebook open on the iPad, stupid." Josh said, mimicking his sister's whine.
It was Josh's turn to get the stink eye.
"Shut up, loser," Emily said.
I threw my hands in the air. "All right. Guess what time it is." Every time my kids argued, I made them hug. It reminded them of their familial connection and made them feel silly—a win-win in my opinion. "It's hug time! Oh yeah!" I hummed, bouncing from foot to foot.
Both kids wrinkled their noses and flinched. "No, Mom. Please," they said in unison. At least they'd agreed on something.
"Too late." I wiggled my eyebrows and laughed. "Ya'll forced me to do it, now go ahead. I'm waiting." I gently pushed on both of their backs, urging them to come together. They groaned but acquiesced. Emily stuck her finger in her mouth and gagged.
I held back a giggle and said, "That doesn't count. Do it again."
Josh balked. "Mama, come on. I did it."
"Emily gagged. It doesn't count."
"Why'd you have to do that?" He asked her, and then just barely wrapped his arms around her in another hug.
They both made gagging faces. "Wow, so dramatic." I made a gagging face for them.
"Mom," Emily said, her voice strained. "You need to teach him to, like, keep his hands off of stuff that doesn't belong to him."
"It's the family iPad," he said.
Josh had a point, but more importantly, Emily was guilty of her own complaint. She touched my stuff on a daily basis and it made me so mad I'd practically grown horns. "Pot calling the kettle black there, Em."
She rolled her eyes—my biggest Emily pet peeve. "I don't touch other peoples stuff, Mom."
I picked my jaw up off the ground. If I couldn't find something I just had to look in her bedroom. I could usually find it buried under piles of clothes. "Oh no, you did not just say that."
&n
bsp; She eye-rolled me again and the vein in my forehead throbbed. I pressed on it just in case it tried to pop out.
"That's different, Mom. Like, just make him stop, please." She bounced on the tips of her toes.
I shook my head. Her ability to separate herself from her own wrongdoing was fascinating. "There is a solution to the problem, you know."
She stuck her tongue out at her brother. "See, I told you Mom would, like, side with me."
He curled his upper lip at her.
"Emily," I said. "Mothers don't take sides. We review the situation and make a fair and educated decision based on the evidence presented."
"So you're gonna, like, tell him to stop sticking his nose in my business, right?"
"Nope. I'm gonna tell you to delete your Facebook account, Em. Problem solved."
Josh double fist-pumped the air. "Yes!"
Emily threw her hands up and stomped into the house saying, "He's totally your favorite."
I turned to Josh and nodded. "That went well."
Josh laughed. "Yup."
***
Emily stayed in her room until she had to leave for work a few hours later. After dinner, Jake and Josh bonded over video games, so I had some much-needed alone time. Linda had given me a month-long homework assignment—to practice meditating. I'd tried several times, but my brain couldn't chill out. Instead of repeating calm, relaxing chats, I'd sing entire versions of 1980s pop rock songs, something at which I excelled. Since Linda and I had an appointment in a few days, I wanted to give the meditation one last shot.
It was a beautiful night. The sky was clear and stars shone like a Lite Brite board filled with only white pegs, so I sat in a chair on our deck, closed my eyes and tried to relax. Male crickets chirped their mating songs as male frogs croaked for the same reason. I pictured crickets and frogs having sex. A bird sang and I sang back, though less in tune than my feathered partner. I thought about birds having sex, but only until I realized they didn't actually perform the act, at which point I just felt stupid.
The breeze picked up, ruffling the leaves on the trees. It almost sounded like a whispered, Ah Madone—my mother's favorite expression. I stilled and listened closely. "Ma? Are you here?" A frog croaked. "Got a frog in your throat?" I laughed at my own joke. "Come on, Ma, that was funny."
I heard nothing but silence. I sat again and contemplated another meditation attempt but knew it was hopeless. I was tired, so I gave up and went to bed.
Face washed, hair brushed and Elmo pajamas on—I knew how to dress sexy for bed—I did another Internet search on catching cheaters. Every site said the same thing. Get phone records, credit card receipts, bank statements, and the like. I did a search for how to follow someone in a car and not get caught and came across a private investigator site full of tips and tricks to catch cheating spouses. The site said the most important tool was record keeping. Everything from who the spouse claimed to see, where they went, what times they were gone, etc. I copied and pasted some of the information into a text to Mel. She sent a return text asking if I would be willing to follow him soon.
"Sure. Will call you tomorrow."
***
That night I dreamed my mom and I were standing in the kitchen of my childhood home. She was making my favorite Italian cookies, pizzelles, and looked like she did before cancer ravaged her body, full-figured with a tiny waist. I looked like the nine-year-old Angela, buckteeth and pigtails and not even remotely attractive.
"Why are you gone, Ma?" I asked, picking at a cookie.
"Ah Madone. I'm not gone. Just 'cause you can't see me don't mean I'm gone," she said.
"Dad's dead."
"I know."
"It hurts," I said.
"I know."
"I need you, Ma. It's hard without you."
"You gotta do the work."
"But how? I don't know how." I handed her a Barbie with its head missing. "I can't fix her by myself."
She said, "I know. I got it covered," and then she shimmered away.
CHAPTER TWO
GRACIE WOKE ME UP AT FIVE A.M. Half awake, I shuffled downstairs to let her out, turned on the coffee and got her breakfast. While she ate, I shuffled back upstairs and dressed for the gym. I came back down, poured myself a cup of caffeinated heaven and sat at the kitchen counter. I took a sip of coffee, inhaling the smooth, bold delight. When I put the cup down, I noticed a rock sitting right next to it. "Good grief."
I examined the rock and then rolled it back and forth along the granite counter. Someone was trying hard to get my attention, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out who. The rocks just didn't make sense. I stared at the ceiling. "I need a little help here," I said, but got nothing in return. I sighed and rolled the rock to the other side of the counter. "You're not helpful."
I finished my coffee and headed to the gym where I worked out harder than I had in weeks. During the ride home I was on an endorphin high and regretted not hitting the gym sooner. I blasted the radio and sang along at the top of my lungs to Air Supply—a 1980s ballad duo. It wasn't exactly rock, but I rocked it regardless.
Jake and Josh were eating breakfast when I returned.
"Is Em up?" I must have been talking to ghosts because neither of them answered. "Is Emily up yet?"
Still nothing. "Bueller?" Music from the 1980s wasn't my only specialty. I was the queen of movie trivia from that time, too. I had no recollection of when Christopher Columbus discovered America, but I could recite entire scenes from every John Hughes movie made that decade, verbatim. My brain was a wonderful, mysterious thing.
"Bueller?" I repeated, but it still didn't work. "Jake, I'm leaving you for another woman."
"No, you're not." He caught my eye and grinned playfully.
Of course he heard that.
Josh shook his head and muttered, "Gross, Mama."
"Seriously? You heard that, but didn't hear me ask twice about Emily?"
"I heard you," Jake said.
Josh said, "Me, too."
I flicked my hand in the air like Ma used to. "Then why didn't you answer?"
"I figured he would," Jake said, pointing at our son.
"She wasn't asking me, Dad." Josh said, shaking his head.
"I give up," I growled, went upstairs and knocked on Emily's door.
"I'm up."
"Can I come in?"
"Sure."
She was sitting at her desk, putting on make up. Her green work apron sat on top of a pile of clothes on her bed. I cringed at the sight of the pile, but hard as it was, ignored it. "What time do you have to be at work?"
"Eight."
"What time do you get off?"
"Four."
Emily was a teenager of few words, unless of course she was complaining or whining. Having a normal conversation with her was like trying to milk a bull. Actually, milking a bull was probably easier. "Got any plans for the night?"
"Hangin' out with Hayden." She used her fingers to open her left eye wide and drew a line on her lower inner eyelid with black eyeliner.
"Cool. She's coming here, I assume?"
"No. We're going to a movie."
I picked up a bottle of perfume and smelled it. "Oh, hadn't realized you'd asked to do that."
Emily rolled her eyes. I pretended to ignore it, but rubbed the vein in my forehead just in case it tried to pop out. "Mom, can I, like, go to Hayden's after work and, like, go to a movie?"
"Who's, like, driving?"
"Mom."
"Whose mom?"
She rolled her eyes again.
"Honey, you know how Georgia law works. You can't have her in the car with you yet. We've discussed this before."
"Like, I know, Mom. She's gonna drive. I promise."
"Was that, like, hard?"
"What?"
"Telling me who's, like, going to drive?"
Blank stare. Loved that one. She used it so rarely and I enjoyed the change from the eye roll.
"Okay, you can go but remembe
r your curfew is, like, eleven p.m."
Third eye roll. My patience was astounding. I wanted to beat my chest with my fists to brag about my strength, but didn't want to appear a braggart.
"I know, Mom. You've only told me that, like, a billion times."
"And I'm sure I'll tell you, like, a billion more, because, like, that's what moms do."
She shook her head. "Fine. Can I finish getting dressed now, please?"
"Like, totally."
"You're funny, Mom."
"It's a gift," I said and got up to leave. Walking out, I saw a shadow move near her bed, but when I turned my head, it was gone.
I got ready for my appointment with Linda and as I headed downstairs, I saw three small rocks sitting on the hallway bookcase. "Seriously," I muttered. "I'm over the rocks. Try something else."
Jake was working in his basement office, and Josh was at the kitchen table, reading a lacrosse magazine. I showed him the rocks. "Are you leaving these lying around the house, Little Man?"
"Nope."
"You sure? I keep finding them."
He flipped a page in the magazine. "Not mine."
"Maybe one of your friends brought them in?"
"We're twelve, Mama. We don't play with rocks."
I grabbed the French bread loaf from the breadbox and cut two slices for a sandwich. "Oh, sorry. I forgot how mature you are now. You shoot aliens on the X-Box instead."
"I'm growing up. It's part of life."
"No fair using my sayings back on me, Josh."
He laughed. "Going somewhere?"
"Yup, to see Linda."
"Cool, tell her I said hi."
"I will. I'm sure she'd love to see you again sometime, too."
Like me, Josh had the gift, but he only saw my mother. And like me, when Dad died, his gift died, too. I took him to see Linda a few times, but because I wanted his life to be as normal as possible, I didn't push it when he said he didn't want to go back.
"Maybe someday."
"I'll let her know."
"And don't worry, Mama. You're gonna be talking to Grandma again real soon."
I put the bread away. "Why do you say that?"
"Just a feeling."
"Something you wanna talk about, Little Man?"
"Nope."
Unbreakable Bonds (An Angela Panther Mystery Book 2) Page 2