Human beat angel, which, she supposed, spoke volumes about how free will actually works. It was a bad idea, and she didn’t care, because she felt drawn to him in ways that had everything to do with hormones.
“Okay, but I get to choose the venue.”
“Pick you up at seven?”
“Tomorrow night. I’ve got something I need to do today.”
“Pick someplace nice, okay?”
“I’ve already decided. Athena’s.”
“You’re killing me, Angel.”
A shiver ran through her.
***
The sharp smell of grease assaulted Adriel’s nose through the open garage bay door as she wheeled the bike toward Damien Oliver.
“I was hoping you might have a minute to check my bike over before I take it out for a spin.”
“Sure. Just give me a second.” An air wrench bucked to life with a high-pitched whirring sound when he applied it to the last two lug nuts on a rusty pickup truck. While she waited, Adriel glanced with interest at the organized chaos around her. Tools spilled out of wheeled metal boxes and across his workbench.
“Okay, let’s have a look. Is this Craig’s old Schwinn?”
“It is. Pam suggested I pull it out of storage and give it some use. If you think it’s road worthy, that is. I could use a long ride after all the commotion out at my place lately.” For a split second, Damien froze. Adriel only caught the slight pause because she was watching his reaction closely.
“Shame about what happened,” he changed the subject. “You don’t have to worry about anything, bike’s safe as houses.”
“You must have been around when Ben went missing, what’s your theory?”
“It was an accident. Had to be. No one in this town would deliberately kill a kid. You’re all set now, is there anything else I can do for you?”
“How much do I owe you?” Adriel couldn’t tell if he was rushing her out because he had too much work, or if he didn’t want to talk about Ben anymore.
“No charge.” He gave her a wide smile, then flipped the handle on the lift to lower the pickup while Adriel rode away, unsure whether she had learned anything or not.
Chapter Twelve
Rough-textured floorboards chafed at her bare feet when Adriel stepped onto the porch, a steaming cup of mediocre coffee in her hand. Early morning sun teased a pleasant heat from the boards that would later in the day turn too warm to navigate without shoes. When her foot unexpectedly came down on something alive and moving, Adriel jumped halfway out of her skin, but managed to keep the shriek from escaping her lips. A mouse no bigger than a walnut scurried under the chair to peer back at her with accusing eyes.
"Sorry, didn't see you."
The tiny creature limped out from the shadows, his left hind foot cocked at an odd angle.
"Did I do that to you?" Poor thing. Did he just shake his head? It must have been her imagination. "Well, come on, then. Let's have a look." The mouse willingly scampered onto Adriel’s outstretched hand, where he sat impassively while she poked and prodded. At her gentle touch on his injured foot, a tingle passed from her to him. The foot straightened and healed. If only she had more control of the power Estelle assured her she still retained. Maybe someday.
"I'm going to put you back in the field and you're going to stay outside.” A wagging finger emphasized her point. “Your bathroom habits aren't fit for indoor living."
Sharing a home with Winston, even if he refused to talk to her, was one thing—and while she loved the little creatures of the world, she preferred not to live with all of them. Anything that poops while it eats was not on her list of potential housemates.
While she talked to him, the bright little mouse sat on her hand, his beady eyes brimming with humor—okay, you have to look for it in animals, but it's there—and with her attention focused on him, Adriel totally missed seeing or hearing Callum until he spoke.
"Good morning, Snow White. Or, would that be Adriel Doolittle?"
It took a second to leaf through her mental catalog for the reference. Snow White. Disney movie adapted from a fairy tale. The main character talked to animals. Dr. Doolittle, also made into a movie and he also talked to animals. Got it.
"Most creatures are friendly if you approach them gently." Sweeping past him and down the steps, Adriel relished the sensation on her bare feet as she crossed the cooler, slightly damp grass to let the mouse go at the edge of the field. Callum caught the double meaning easily enough, and she felt his amused gaze on her.
"Oh, I can be plenty gentle if you've a mind to get friendly." His voice, low and smooth, cruised over her nerves to send them jangling into alarm mode. Her response to him had to be a sign that he was dangerous in some capacity she didn't quite understand.
"Yes, well." Adriel’s noncommittal reply, meant to dissuade him from pursuing the conversation, failed utterly, and when she turned back, his body blocked the steps. To go back inside meant brushing past him—maybe even touching him. She shivered at the thought. "I'm partial to furry companions. Thanks anyway."
Callum's knowing grin told her she’d made another conversational gaffe. Talking to him was like walking through a minefield of potential double entendres. For once, he decided to let it go and changed the subject. He wandered over toward the trench with yellow and black tape still fluttering around it.
"Shame about Ben. Dying all alone like that." He sounded genuinely concerned, which surprised Adriel into doing the math. Callum and Ben would have been of a similar age. If Callum grew up here, they probably had been friends.
"Did you know him?"
"It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone. He was a couple years behind me in school, but we were friends." she heard the pain behind the simple statement.
"Were you surprised to think he might have run away from home?"
"I never bought that story for a minute. No one with half a brain and eyes in their head would have. Ben and his family were tight, and he wasn’t the kind of kid to get into trouble. Rodeo Bill started those rumors back in the day." Callum spit the words out like a condemnation—and like there was more he could say, but chose not to.
"Rodeo Bill? I've met him. He seems like quite a character." Wanting to hear more, Adriel gestured for Callum to take a seat in one of the chairs on the porch, then lowered herself into the other.
"That's one word for it. The Allens got a raw deal. Some folks turned on them, and others turned their backs in case the stigma of losing a kid was somehow catching. I know my mother was paranoid for months. No one asked us kids what we thought happened."
"Children often see more than adults credit them for. I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on the subject."
"We figured he'd gone exploring and gotten lost. There's a set of caves up on the hill that were off-limits, but we used to sneak up there anyway. A kid could get stuck in the smaller tunnels where an adult would never fit. Bunch of us kept searching long after there was any chance he could have survived. I guess we figured if we found a body, at least we could bring him home.” It haunted Callum—the lack of closure and the thought of Ben trapped under the ground alone. Learning Ben’s whereabouts after all this time raised a lot of questions.
As though talking about him had called Ben to them, Adriel heard the card on bicycle spokes rising above the sounds of singing birds and buzzing insects. Her eyes flicked past Callum to note the small figure pedaling furiously toward the cabin.
Ben fishtailed into the yard and jumped off the seat with excited energy. “I remembered something,” he shouted. “Right before I…before it happened, I looked over my shoulder and saw a plane. Who’s that?” Ben didn’t recognize Callum.
Thinking fast, Adriel figured out a way to answer the question without speaking out of turn, “I’m sure Ben would appreciate how hard you and your friends worked at trying to find him, Callum.”
Registering surprise, Ben said, “Callum? He’s Callum McCord? He’s old.”
“It’s h
is sister I feel sorry for the most. For thirty years she’s lived with innuendo and suspicion. Woman’s got guts to stay here and face that kind speculation. Anyone with a lick of common sense knew his family never hurt that boy, but that didn’t stop the talk.”
“People can be cruel.” No one knew that better than Adriel. An eternity of watching some of the things humans chose to do to each other might have left her thinking the species was beyond redemption—if not for the numerous acts of shining kindness they were prone to as well. “Most of the time, cruelty is born of fear.”
“Maybe so.”
The moment spun out. Ben standing at the edge of the porch, face sober as he processed the information Callum had inadvertently provided—Callum falling silent while he remembered a boy gone far too soon. Words failed Adriel. Nothing she could say to either of them would make this easier. Only time had the power to heal all wounds.
***
The sound of raised, angry voices once again penetrated Adriel’s sleep. What was it with this place? Wearily, she sat up in bed and twitched the curtain aside to see what was going on now.
Half a dozen citizens carrying signs blocked Gideon and his crew from gaining access to their equipment. Too tired to care whether or not her clothes matched, Adriel threw on the first items that came to hand—a floral top over a striped skirt in clashing colors, and jammed her feet into two different styles of flip flops. Gustavia would have been so proud.
Behind her, the screen door creaked and slammed as footsteps heavy with frustration fell across the porch. Enough. She had had enough. Righteous indignation carried her right into the middle of the two groups.
“Give it a rest. For the love of all that’s holy. All I want to do is wake up to the sound of rain on the roof or birds singing. Do you people really think this is the way to handle things?” She rounded on the sign carriers led by Rodeo Bill. “It’s been three weeks of constant racket disturbing my sleep and look,” dramatic arm wave, “they’re almost done. You’re too late to stop this, and really, what is the point? All you are doing is delaying the work and costing more time and money. Go home. Or maybe you’d prefer if Zack Roman came out to take all your fingerprints? Someone should be held accountable for the damage they’re trying to fix. Go home and let these men do their jobs.” A hint of angel slid through her voice, making the command more powerful. After a short burst of protest and a few sidelong glances at the irate redhead, the picketers looked toward Rodeo Bill to signal their next move. He rounded on Adriel, and what she saw was unexpected.
Bill was scared. The signs were subtle, but they were there: slightly elevated breathing; eyes blinking rapidly; white knuckles clutching his sign; and tight shoulders. He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, then turned and walked away. Subtle changes in his posture suggested defeat. The others followed while Adriel looked after Bill thoughtfully. Something was going on with him, and she meant to find out what.
Chapter Thirteen
The last two-mile stretch into Oakville marked the beginning of a gradual uphill climb that turned Adriel’s legs to noodles and dried her mouth. Why hadn’t she had the foresight to bring along some bottled water? Some mean trick of the light made the crest of the hill seem closer than it was. Eventually, out of necessity, she stood to put more pressure on the pedals until even with the extra force, she had to get off the bike and push it the last few hundred feet. Parts of her lower anatomy felt rubbed raw from the edges of the seat, her hands stung where they grasped the rubber grips, and she wished she could heal herself so she didn’t have to spend the next few days sitting on a cushion.
Nestled against the lower edge of a lake big enough to provide plenty of boating and fishing, the town of Oakville bustled during the tourist months. Striped awnings shaded shop windows from the glare of sun off the water, and brightly colored umbrellas covered picnic table seating along a series of sun-whitened piers.
Wind roughened cedar siding festooned with fishing nets and floats contrasted with lighter, more colorful trim to continue the seaside theme. Out on the lake, triangle sails caught subtle air currents to pull their cargo through the rippling blue. The temptation to whiz down the hill and right into that cool, clear moisture was hard to resist. Instead, Adriel set her sights on the tiny yellow building with the big plastic ice cream cone attached to the roof. A scoop of double chocolate chip would go down good right about now.
The damp breeze off the water smelled like fresh rain and sunshine with the faintest hint of fish. Had there been any skin left on her abraded behind, Adriel would have wanted to sit and bask there for hours. As it was, she needed to put the last leg of the trip behind her to get to Hayward House. If Julie wasn’t home, she was sunk. Adriel jammed all thought of the trip back home into the farthest, darkest corner of her mind where she hoped it would die of neglect. Lifting her leg over the saddle proved impossible so she pushed the bike past a knot of tourists chattering loudly about who was at fault for making them late to meet their boat charter.
Too busy listening to the lively discussion, Adriel nearly plowed into the peacock-bright figure that appeared in front of her.
“Adriel? Is that you?” Gustavia reached out to steady the bike when it bobbled in Adriel’s startled grip. “Did you ride all the way here?”
Adriel winced before she could stop herself. “Yes, I did.” One hand dropped to absently rub her sore backside, causing a shiver of pain.
“That’s it. You’re coming with me.” Gustavia commandeered the bike to wheel it around the ice cream place toward the dead-end block where Kat lived. Long legs flashing, she took off like a rocket while Adriel, feeling as if she had aged fifty years in the last five minutes, limped along behind. The longer she stayed off the bike, the more stiff her legs became.
“You couldn’t have come at a better time,” Gustavia called back over her shoulder, “We’re having a sample party over at Kat’s this afternoon.”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.” Ignoring the shriek of protest from her calf muscles, Adriel dashed forward to wrest the Schwinn from Gustavia’s hands. “I’ll just ride back to…”
“Honey, not even Amethyst is foolish enough to take bets on whether or not you could ride that bike fifty feet, much less make it back to Longbrook. You’ll come to Kat’s with me, and we’ll see what we can do to fix you up.” Her gaze brushed over Adriel, taking in the stiffened gait, chafed hands, and expression that became more pained with every step. “Painkillers, liniment, and a dose of Amethyst will go a long way to putting you right. One of us will give you a ride home, too.”
Too tired to argue, and thankful Kat lived nearby, Adriel followed Gustavia the scant distance to the small, but cheerful yellow and white house. The thought of asking what was a sample party never even crossed Adriel’s mind as Gustavia leaned the bike up against the porch and hustled her inside.
“Hey, where is everyone?” She called out. “Guess who’s here.”
“Kitchen.”
It turned out that a sample party involved a dozen or so cup-sized containers of wall paint and an equal number of disposable brushes. Several swatches of color already decorated each wall of the kitchen so Kat could choose between them. All but two selections had been x’ed out. There was so much color in the smallish room already that the samples were all but swallowed up in the visual frenzy. When Kat’s grandmother, the original Madame Zephyr—medium and fortune teller—died, she passed down more than just her famed psychic gifts. Kat also inherited this house, complete with a kitchen full of china teapots. In every shade and pattern, they squatted on shelves, the tops of the cabinets, and filled a built in breakfront with enough bright color to assault the eye.
“Adriel. Welcome.” Kat and Julie offered warm hugs while Amethyst scanned her aura.
“What have you done to yourself?” Eyes slightly unfocused, Amethyst ran gentle fingers over Adriel’s auric energy field. Every now and then, she stopped to twitch at specific areas and flick her fingers as thou
gh throwing something away. With each tweak, the pain and stiffness lessened.
“She rode an old bike over here,” Gustavia answered, since Adriel wasn’t capable at that point of stringing two words together. The power rolling off the diminutive, purple-clad woman had soothed her into a trance-like state. Maybe all those worries over Amethyst had been for nothing. In the short time since events had caused her aura-reading ability to level up to the nth degree, Amethyst had taken command of her new strength without any help at all. Adriel wanted to be bitter about it, but with peace flooding over her, she couldn’t muster up the angst.
When Amethyst drew back her energy, Adriel swayed on her feet.
“Wow.” Not the most angelic of statements, but it was the only word that came to mind.
Julie pressed an over-sized mug of tea into Adriel’s hand. “Ammie can really turn it on when she needs to. How do you feel?”
“Better. Much better.” The spicy, slightly medicinal-tasting brew smoothed out the rest of the rough edges.
“Take these,” Kat pressed two tablets into Adriel’s hand. “You’ll be right as rain in a few minutes.” Eyes sparkling under a dark fringe of bangs, she waited until Adriel downed the pills, then gestured toward the walls. “It’s a good thing you showed up; we need a tie-breaker. We can’t decide between that sage green with yellow and gray accents, or the cream with russet and blue.”
“That one.” Adriel pointed to the more neutral selection. “It works with all the colors and patterns in the room.”
“See, that’s what I said.” Julie pulled the brush from the pot of green and drew a circle around that combination. “Okay, that’s one room down.” She bobbed her head toward the newcomer, “With her here, we might actually get through this and be ready for the painters.”
Earthbound Bones: An Earthbound Novel (The Psychic Seasons Series Book 5) Page 14