"All right," she said. "We can say hello if their session hasn't started." She didn’t feel like trying to explain what sort of session it was.
At the shop, they marched up the outside staircase. Robin gestured the children to silence while she slipped open the door and peered inside. Irma was laying out a tablecloth, Julius sat on the couch eating potato chips, and Maureen fiddled nervously with a pair of candlesticks on the sideboard.
Robin ushered the children in. "They’re here to visit their grandmother for a minute."
Gigi emerged from the kitchen with a tray of cookies. "I knew my grandchildren would show up!" .
With whoops of delight, the youngsters descended on the treats. Gigi beamed.
"I'm sorry," Robin told Maureen. "We didn't mean to interrupt your plans."
"Not at all. They must stay for the séance," Gigi announced. "It will be an educational experience."
"Oh, please! Can we?" Brick begged.
"He doesn't know what a séance is," said Aaron.
"Neither do you," said Brick.
"It's where we meet ghosts." Aaron radiated pride at knowing more than his brother. "Isn't it, Grandma Gigi?"
Robin shook her head. "We can’t stay. Your father would be furious."
"I want them here." Maureen's response caught her off guard.
"But why?"
"So they’ll understand that people shouldn't hold feelings inside." The older woman tugged at the tablecloth, straightening it a fraction of an inch. "After forty years, think of all the anger I'm still holding onto. That isn't the way to handle disappointment."
"It will be good for Caitlin to see me in action," added Gigi. "For the boys, too. You never know what abilities they possess."
"That's what I'm afraid of." Robin checked her watch.
It was past eleven-thirty. "I have to go by my new school before one." She told them about the job and fixing up the classroom.
"All the more reason to leave them here," Gigi said. "They'll be out of your way."
"I'll take responsibility for them." Maureen spoke with an air of finality.
If it hadn't been for her, Robin would never have agreed. But she didn't relish spending the next hour trundling the children around and listening to them complain about missing the séance, and Flint could hardly complain. "If it gets scary, I want you to stop," she told her mother.
"Believe me, we will," Maureen said.
As she hugged the excited triplets and departed, Robin reflected sadly that it didn’t matter how Flint reacted when he heard about the séance. She wasn't working for him after today.
But it does matter. Everything about him mattered to her.
*
It was half past noon when Flint emerged from the planning office. He was startled to see five business owners carrying protest signs in front of City Hall.
"What are you doing here today?" he asked one of them.
"We've decided to march every day until the council drops this insanity," she answered. "Besides, we've got our company names on our signs. It's good advertising."
"Wouldn't it be better for business if you showed more concern for the safety of your customers?" Instantly, he regretted the remark as the five barraged him with barbed comments. One accused him of making a profit at their expense. Another claimed the whole issue was overblown. A third charged that over regulation was ruining the business climate in California.
“That may be true, but this happens to be a case where regulation is justified.”
“Says who?”
A low rumble obscured the others’ responses. Flint wondered if an airplane heading for John Wayne Airport was flying too low. Then he felt a wave of dizziness and nearly lost his footing on the steps.
Across the street, palm trees were swaying. "Sit down before you fall down!" he snapped at the protesters. "It's an earthquake."
They stood glaring for a moment as if he were trying to trick them, and then the trembling intensified into a jolt. They all sat, Flint among them.
Across the street, a shop window rattled in its frame and a sign overhead tipped sideways. A green traffic light flickered, then switched to flashing red.
The shaking stopped. The merchants arose shakily. "That was scary," admitted the woman, brushing off her dress. "But not that bad."
"I've felt worse," boasted one of the merchants.
"You see?" said another. "There's hardly any damage and that must have been, what, a five point five?"
"Depends on the epicenter and the depth, and a few other factors." Flint disliked guessing. “I’ll check the U.S. Geological Survey website. Meanwhile, be careful of aftershocks."
As if the earth were determined to prove him right, the ground shuddered, forcing the woman merchant to clutch a railing. Across the street, the heavy sign tore loose and crashed to the sidewalk.
It could have injured someone, Flint thought.
Although the quake had ended, he could hear the rush of blood loud in his ears. His palms felt sweaty, and he was breathing faster than normal.
He'd been through quakes before, but they usually struck while Flint was in bed or sitting at his computer. It was rare to find himself outdoors witnessing nature's fury as far as he could see.
He surveyed his surroundings. Except for the damage across the street, nothing major had given way, although he was sure closer inspection would reveal some cracks.
In the distance, sirens wailed. Most likely they were responding to fires or to heart attacks.
It was just past twelve-thirty, so his family might be eating lunch. Their often-rehearsed plan called for everyone to drop onto hands and knees under a sturdy table or desk and hold onto it, as far as possible from glass or falling objects. As for structural damage, his house was well built and located on solid ground.
To double check, Flint put in a call to Robin. It didn’t go through. No doubt everyone in the area was trying to phone loved ones at the same time. He waited a few minutes and dialed again, but still no connection.
Although everyone was probably fine, Flint's nervous system refused to relax. There was a small chance that something had fallen on them, or that the quake had started a fire.
The merchants were carting their placards away, Flint noticed as he backed up the car. In light of the collapsed sign across the street, maybe now the good people of Beachside would see the wisdom of his commendations. He was sorry to be proved right, though.
He drove home as quickly as circumstances allowed. Palm fronds littered the road, along with strips of bark shaken from the trees. Halfway home, a fallen tree blocked part of Beachside Avenue, jamming traffic.
Taking side streets, Flint had to navigate around a street flooded by a broken water pipe. This shaker might not have been severe, but it had left quite a mess.
As he pulled up in front of his house, Flint noticed that Robin's car was gone. Inside on the kitchen table, he found the children's scribbled message. The meaning sent a wallop of anxiety through Flint.
The kids had run away to the beach. Robin must have gone after them. They couldn't have much of a head start, since she looked in on them frequently.
He tried calling each person’s number in turn. Still no luck. Irrationally, Flint swore aloud at the cell phone company.
He tried not to think about the flimsy facade and sign on Gigi's shop. He tried not to think about a beach jammed with panicky people or about the way sandy soil magnified the shaking.
He willed himself to remain calm as he returned to the car and drove south. Yet he couldn’t stop the terrifying images playing through his brain. He’d seen too many pictures of children lying beneath heaps of rubble.
Panic threatened his self-control. He had never experienced such a deep and overwhelming sense of dread before, and yet he recognized it at once as the terror that had lain buried inside him for three years.
Now, perhaps too late, he understood what it was.
Chapter Seventeen
Robin was standing
in her classroom when the tremor hit. Through long training in earthquake drills, she ducked under the desk.
Nothing fell, since the room was bare of decorations, but she could feel the floor rolling beneath her. It was like riding a ship, except that this ship was sitting on supposedly solid ground.
After the shaking, she sat motionless for a few minutes to calm her breathing. She hadn't been aware of being frightened during the event, but now, in the stillness, alarm tingled through her, mixed with relief. The thing was over and she had survived.
Then the aftershock struck. When the rocking started again, Robin thought, I don't need this. But then, who does?
Afterward, she tried to call loved ones, but she couldn't get through to her mother, the children or Flint. Still, with Maureen and Gigi both on hand, the children should be safe.
A Learning Place had converted an older school facility, retrofitting the structures to the latest standards, and when Robin emerged, she saw no signs of damage. Growing up in Southern California, she had experienced several shakers larger than this. Earthquakes were always frightening, but they were no worse than the tornadoes, blizzards, hurricanes and floods that threatened other parts of the country. The sun was still shining and the air was no smoggier than usual.
Under normal circumstances, the drive to Beachside should have taken less than half an hour. Today, however, fallen tree branches and palm fronds slowed her approach to the freeway. Then, when she reached it, Robin got stuck again. According to the radio, the jam was due to a chain-reaction crash caused by drivers who slammed on the brakes when the quake hit.
She decided to get off the freeway and take an alternate route. Flint’s house was closer, so she’d stop there first. If the children hadn’t returned and she still couldn’t reach them, she’d press on to the beach.
*
The streets close to the ocean were packed, Flint found when he reached the area. People seemed in a hurry to leave, perhaps afraid of a tsunami. The huge waves, once misnamed tidal waves, could be generated by quakes deep in the ocean floor. However, according to the USGS site, today's quake had been centered in the desert.
The preliminary rating was five point four. There were no reports of deaths or serious injuries, but information would be sketchy for hours yet.
Still no response from any of his family or Robin. Were they all right? A wall collapse, a shallow-rooted tree, falling tiles or other heavy objects—any of those could claim a life even in a modest shaker.
Sometimes, Flint reflected, he simply knew too much.
On the plus side, he had no trouble parking. Cars were pouring out of the beach lot in droves.
As he strode toward the shop, Flint took in evidence of the quake's power—cracks in the sidewalk, bits of broken plaster and stucco, branches and leaves littering the ground.
Gigi's wooden facade had withstood the shock, he saw, but her sign hung at a rakish angle. It would have to be pulled down before it fell, Flint reflected as he reached for the door. He tugged twice before noticing the sign.
Why would his children be communing with spirits? But he’d gladly let them dance around in grass skirts and chant rubbish—once—if only they were safe.
At the top of the stairs, he knocked, waited a few seconds, and rapped again, harder. He could hear voices, for heaven’s sake. Why weren't they answering?
Annoyed, he threw open the door. Startled faces turned toward him.
In the dim light filtering through the curtains, Gigi, Maureen, the white-haired man and another elderly woman sat around a table holding hands. Nearby, the triplets lined up on the couch, watching.
Where was Robin? No one seemed concerned about her absence and, despite his uneasiness, Flint didn’t want to make a fuss about her.
Then he noticed that a pole lamp had fallen onto the floor and a heavy mirror had skewed crazily. "Is anyone hurt?" he asked.
"Hurt?" Maureen said. "Flint, you're interrupting us."
Gigi released the others' hands. "The spirit has gone."
"But he must return!" cried the third woman. "He hasn't told us why he thinks Maureen is in danger."
Flint stared at them in disbelief. "We've had an earthquake. Are you people nuts?" He gestured toward a chandelier. "One more aftershock and you could be wearing that thing for a hat."
"An earthquake?" Gigi blinked. "Oh, my goodness. I thought it was the spirits shaking things up."
"And rapping on the door, too, I suppose?" Flint snapped.
"They do stomp around," said the white-aired man. "Make a lot of mischief."
"There are ghosts, Dad!" Aaron jumped off the couch. "One of them talked to us."
"It was really Grandma Gigi who talked," Brick said.
"Are you kids all right?" Flint gathered the boys into his arms. Caitlin sat motionless on the couch. "Honey?"
She expelled a long breath. "Dad, I could feel him. He was here. Aunt Maureen's old boyfriend."
"His name’s Frederick," Aaron said. "He warned her about some terrible danger."
"But you interrupted before he could tell us what it is," Brick scolded. "Couldn't you wait a few minutes, Dad?"
"You don't really believe this." Flint regarded his aunt.
Maureen folded her hands on the table. "I know it sounds odd, but it was Frederick. He remembered things no one else could have known, including a password we used in our notes. We used to enjoy having a secret code."
"Can't imagine why the fellow took forty years to come back." The white-haired man adjusted his helmet.
"He’s here because he sensed danger," said the third woman. "Oh, dear. I wonder if I should ask Mortimer to find out what it is."
She didn't explain who Mortimer was, nor did Flint care. An earthquake had just endangered these people's lives, and all they could talk about was some idiotic séance.
Maureen held up her hand and the others fell silent. "They've solved my mystery," she said.
In spite of himself, Flint was curious. "You found out what happened to your fiancé?"
"Apparently." His aunt explained that Frederick had been walking to a florist's shop the morning of the wedding to pick up his boutonniere. As he passed a brick building, it exploded on top of him.
"I remember reading about it in the paper," Maureen said. "There was a break in a gas line. But apparently they didn’t find his body until much later. I never heard about that."
"He didn't abandon her," Gigi added. "It was a tragic misunderstanding."
"The whole thing could have been solved with a psychic reading forty years ago," said the third woman with a sniff.
Flint couldn't focus on their chatter. He had been watching the doors to the kitchen and the bedroom, hoping one more person would appear. "Where's Robin?"
"She went to her school to pick up a key," said Gigi. "I expect her back soon."
"That school’s miles away." Despite his rational sense that Robin was probably fine, Flint’s anxiety kept growing. "I'd better go look for her."
"Where?" said Maureen. "Flint, be realistic. You're more likely to run into trouble yourself than to find Robin."
The white-haired man stuffed a cookie in his mouth from a plate on the sideboard. "She's a big girl."
“She’s fine, Dad,” Brick said with a confidence beyond his years. “Don’t sweat it.”
He sounds like me. As if he couldn’t possibly be wrong.
Flint tried to instill some of that certainty in himself. Robin was simply stuck in freeway traffic. A resourceful woman, she could navigate her own way home. He knew that perfectly well.
And none of it meant a damn.
The terror that had struck him on the drive over, he saw now, was the reason he had avoided getting involved with Robin in the first place. It was the dread of the unthinkable, that he would love again, only to lose her to another of fate's blind cruelties. Since Kathy died, Flint had never realized until today that he was living in fear.
It hadn't stopped him from falling in love with Ro
bin, and it wouldn't stop him from searching for her now. "Aunt Maureen," he said, "I’d be very grateful if you’d take the children home with you. I'll pick them up as soon as I can."
"Of course." There was an unfamiliar air of calm about his aunt, a subtle difference in muscle tone. He could have sworn she had lost ten years off her age.
Flint headed for the door.
"Dad," Caitlin said. "There was something else."
"Yes?" Thinking she referred to Robin, Flint swung around. "What, honey?"
"At the séance," she said. "Someone else was watching us. I think it was Mommy. I could—I could feel her reaching out to me."
"Really?" said Gigi. "I sensed another spirit but I couldn't get a grasp on her. I'm proud of you, Caitlin."
"So am I." Flint gave his daughter a quick kiss and hurried out the door. He was glad she had found comfort in thinking about her mother in the middle of a near disaster. As for this nonsense about spirits, she’d outgrow that soon enough. Caitlin was a sensible girl.
On his way to the car, Flint performed mental calculations. He'd seen the blockages on Beachside Avenue and heard on the radio about a mess on the freeway.
Coming from the school, Robin should have exited earlier than usual, onto a road called Palmdale. The odds of spotting her weren't great, but Flint would do his best to trace her path from this direction. If he didn’t see her en route, he'd check out the grounds of A Learning Place. What if she were lying in her classroom with a broken leg, her shouts echoing unheard across an empty campus?
He couldn't stop thinking about the day he'd lost Kathy and the anger and pain at knowing he hadn't been there to help. For three years, he'd instinctively built walls around himself to prevent such a thing from happening again. Now that it might have, he couldn’t bear to sit by.
He loved Robin. Damn it, he loved her with all his heart, the heart he’d tried to forget he possessed. He would do anything in his power to keep her safe.
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