by Sharon Sala
“Yeah, I get that. Mom and I talked. We’re paying attention.”
“You know what you said about being scared something would happen to me when the tornado was coming? Well that’s how I felt when I found out you were missing. That’s why I freaked out on you the other day. I don’t ever want to feel that again, okay?”
Flynn threaded his fingers through hers. “Deal,” he said softly, then gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I promised Mom I wouldn’t stay long. We need to get groceries and run a bunch of errands, but I just had to see for myself that you’re still in one perfect piece.”
Tara stifled a sigh. Flynn sure did know how to make a girl feel special.
“I’m still in one piece,” she said.
“And perfect. Don’t forget the perfect,” Flynn said, and then leaned over and kissed her one more time, but with an emphasis on goodbye. “Gotta run. I’m still off work until next week. Wanna do something tomorrow?”
“Sure, but what? The tornado messed up a lot of the city, and not many businesses have reopened.”
“Can we drive through the area where the path of the storm went?”
“We were all over the place yesterday, although now that I think about it, most of the vehicles were rescue-related so I’m not sure. Why?”
“A woman who works the same shift as Mom lost her house. I just wanted to see the neighborhood.”
“All we can do is drive that way and see what happens.”
He nodded. “How about I pick you up around 11:00 a.m.? As soon as we scope out the storm damage, we can grab some lunch.”
“Okay.”
Tara walked him to the door, then stood on the threshold waving until he disappeared from view. From the corner of her eye she caught movement across the street, but when she looked, there was no one there. Still, she locked the door behind her as she went back inside. Thanks to that news crew, there was no telling what kind of crazy people were looking for the Stillwater psychic.
French Langdon held his breath, certain that she’d spotted him, but when she went back inside, he relaxed. He was going to have to be more careful. This was no time to blow his cover, and now that the boyfriend was back in town, things were bound to amp up fast. He stayed around until her uncle came home and then left to check in with his boss.
Detectives Rutherford and Allen had just ended another frustrating interrogation with Sam Nettles. The devastation he appeared to be suffering over his brother’s murder seemed sincere, and he continued to swear that the only other people who knew about the money had been with him the entire day that Floy had been killed. He told Rutherford and Allen he knew of no one else who might have had a grudge against his brother big enough to want him dead, and that’s where the Stillwater P.D. investigation was stalled.
If it had not been for a dead man and Tara Luna’s warning, they would have assumed they had all the guilty parties in custody connected with the kidnapping of Flynn O’Mara. But with the psychic teenager’s track record for being right, her insistence that Floy Nettle’s killer was still on the loose and the O’Mara family was still in danger was something they couldn’t ignore. However, until they got a break in the case, there were left scrambling for clues.
Supper was over.
Uncle Pat was taking a shower and Tara was glued to the television waiting for the ten o’clock news to come on. She already knew they were going to air the clip about her helping with the rescue effort again, because they’d gotten a phone call from a television station wanting to do a follow-up piece. Her uncle had quickly refused, but the story was still news. It wasn’t as if she wished anything else bad to happen in Stillwater, but she sure hoped something happened soon that would take everyone’s mind off of her.
This is exciting, almost like going to the movies. You should make popcorn. We like to hear it pop.
Tara groaned. “It’s not exciting that I’m going to be on TV. Not like this. You know what happens when people find out I’m crazy weird.”
Henry materialized upside down, which made Tara snicker.
Don’t laugh. Henry’s sensitive. He’s still discombobulated from that storm vortex. We both are.
“OMG . . . Henry’s sensitive? What about me? I’m the only one who can see Henry mess up. Everyone in the country has seen my deepest secret revealed.”
At that point, Tara heard her uncle coming back down the hall.
“Can it, you two. Uncle Pat is coming back.”
He knows about us. What’s the big deal?
“Knowing and accepting it are two different things. Please guys, just don’t freak him out, okay?”
Ice, Tara.
Tara sighed. “You don’t say ice . . . you say, chill. That means calm down.”
Whatever. I still say you should make popcorn.
“No, and that’s final.”
“Who are you talking to?” Uncle Pat said, as he sat down beside her.
“Myself,” Tara muttered. “You’re just in time. The news is coming on.”
He swung his arm over her head and gave her a quick hug. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
Tara’s shoulders slumped. “You weren’t with me in Walmart, or at the Hideaway when the Scotts took me out to lunch. OMG, Uncle Pat, people were following me in the aisles. They wanted everything from winning Lotto numbers to a place to hook them up with jobs.”
He frowned. “You didn’t tell me that.”
She shrugged. “Well, I am now.”
There wasn’t much left to say, so they watched, waiting and hoping it wouldn’t be aired again, but their hopes were quickly dashed. The news anchors began the broadcast with an update of storm coverage, then updates on the survivors. They led into the film clip of Tara helping the rescue teams with an interview that made Tara cringe. It was an interview with John and Delia Littlehorse in the ER with Gracie.
Tara groaned. Within seconds, their phone began to ring. Pat answered, frowned, and then handed it to Tara.
“It’s Nate Pierce . . . for you.”
Tara took the phone. “Hello.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know about this interview until a few minutes ago when Delia called to tell me.”
Tara sighed. “Yeah, okay.”
“It’s not though, is it?” Nate asked.
“I haven’t seen any of this yet, but I think everyone else in the state did.”
“I’m really sorry. Are you being hassled?”
“You could say that.”
There was a long moment of silence, and then he added. “I’m so sorry for how it’s affecting you now, but I wouldn’t change a thing of what you did. You saved my niece’s life, and from what I saw of the show that aired this morning, you saved others as well. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed. It’s just that, for now, I am officially a freak.”
She heard him curse softly, and then heard a big sigh.
“You are not a freak, Tara Luna. You are so special. You have gifts that most of us will never understand, and even fewer will believe. But for our family, you were a blessing. Next time we meet, I hope it’s under happier circumstances.”
“Yes, me too,” Tara said. “Bye.”
“Be strong,” he said softly, and then the line went dead.
She handed the phone back to her uncle as he pointed at the screen. Within moments she was reliving the race to find a baby through the lens of a camera she hadn’t known was there. She saw herself up in that tree with the baby in her arms—watching Nate and his family climbing toward her, and then relaying the baby down. The story moved from scene to scene, showing a tall, long-legged girl with dark hair blowing in the wind, running up a street and onto a debris-filled yard and the searchers following and rescuing people who had been trapped. They caught the ambulances racing away with living victims as well as transporting others who were not as lucky.
“Oh no,” Tara muttered, when the camera suddenly zoomed in on her. Her hair was blowing across her face, there wa
s mud on her forehead and mud and blood on her clothes, and she was crying.
“I don’t remember much of any of this,” Tara whispered.
“That’s just as well,” Pat said, and hugged her again, but this time he didn’t turn loose. He kept his hand firmly on her shoulder, reminding her that she wasn’t bearing any of this alone.
And then they ended the clip with words that sealed her immediate fate.
“There are people alive in Stillwater, Oklahoma tonight because one local teenager, who happens to be psychic, was in the right place at the right time.”
“Well, honey . . . I know this is causing you grief, but I want you to know, from my point of view, I am a very proud uncle tonight.”
Tara leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. “Thank you, Uncle Pat.”
All of a sudden, Tara sat up straight. “Do you smell that?”
Pat sniffed the air. “I hear something in the kitchen. I hear . . . what the hell? Who’s popping corn?”
Tara jumped to her feet. “OMG. Millicent! I told you, no popcorn!”
Pat looked stunned. “Your ghost is popping corn? She can do that?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hey, Tara . . .”
“What, Uncle Pat?”
“Well, since it’s already popping . . . add some extra butter and bring me a cold can of Pepsi, will you?”
“Sure, no problem,” Tara muttered, and headed for the kitchen, following the aroma of freshly popped corn.
She opened the microwave and yanked out the expanded bag and dropped it on the counter.
“Seriously, Millicent? I thought we’d already covered this.”
Millicent was suspiciously silent, but Henry was hovering anxiously, which he did when Millicent left him behind to smooth over her messes.
Tara frowned. “Can’t you do anything with her?”
Henry shook his head, shrugged his shoulders then blew her a kiss before shooting through the ceiling, still upside down. The last thing Tara saw as he shot out of sight was the grin on his face.
“My life is certifiable.”
“Don’t forget extra butter!” Pat yelled.
Tara rolled her eyes again. “Seriously certifiable.”
The night was dark. The cloudy sky curtained a three-quarter moon to the point that if it hadn’t been for the street lights, it would have been hard to cast a shadow. The nightlight in the hall at Tara’s house had burned out the right after the storm and they had yet to replace it, leaving the house in total darkness.
Pat was lightly snoring in his bedroom down the hall. The intermittent drip in the old claw-foot bathtub marked off time as steadily as the clock by Tara’s bed. The wind was up just enough that the tree limbs on the west side of the house were rubbing against the wall and roof in an annoying, repetitive scratch. Combine all of that with recurring memories of the storm, and it gave Tara the perfect recipe for a night of restless sleep.
She had been tossing and turning from the moment her head hit the pillow, and three hours later, had yet to relax enough to get any actual rest. When a police car went speeding past with sirens screaming, she sat straight up in bed with her heart pounding; her eyes wide with shock.
The fact that Henry was sitting at the foot of her bed was not as freaky as the fact that he was glowing.
“OMG! Henry! What happened to you?” Tara gasped.
Henry shrugged, as Millicent explained.
It’s astral dust. I think it gives him a little dash of flash. What do you think?
“Is that on purpose?” Tara asked.
I’m trying to put a good spin on his situation. He got caught up in a comet trail. The least you could do is not stare.
Tara rubbed her eyes sleepily. “Sorry, but it’s a little startling to wake up with what amounts to a flashing disco ball at the foot of my bed.”
Henry spun off the bed and into the corner, leaving a sparkle trail behind him, then did a little dance step that made her laugh.
“Is he alright?” Tara asked. “I mean . . . is it bad for him to get caught up in a comet trail?”
It’s just a matter of realigning energy.
“Why are you two here?” Tara asked. “Is something wrong?”
We don’t like the vibe around you. You need to pay attention.
Tara’s heart skipped a beat. “Am I in danger?”
We can’t tell. Just be careful, okay?
Tara slid back under the covers. “How am I supposed to relax and sleep after a warning like that?”
You’re not alone. Just close your eyes.
Tara did as she was told, and moments later felt the mattress give beside her, then a featherweight brush of something across her cheek.
Tara sighed. It wasn’t everyone who could claim to have shared a bed with a ghost, and that touch on her cheek was Millicent’s version of a goodnight kiss. But it was familiar enough that it lulled her into relaxing, and a short while later, she finally fell asleep.
She woke up hours later to the smell of frying bacon and got up, anxious to get her share before Uncle Pat ate all of it and left her with a bowl of cold cereal, instead.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Pat said, as Tara entered the room.
“Hi, Uncle Pat. Did you make enough bacon for me, too?”
“Sure did. Want some eggs to go with it?”
“No, I’ll just do toast. Flynn is taking me to lunch today. I want to save room for that.”
“So, you and Flynn are becoming quite the thing, aren’t you?”
Tara shrugged as she picked up a crunchy strip of bacon and took a bite.
Pat frowned. “You don’t want to talk about it?”
Tara looked up. “Hmm? Oh, no, it’s not that. I didn’t know you were serious.”
“Well, I was.”
Tara popped a slice of bread into the toaster and pushed it down. “You know I like him, Uncle Pat. I like him a lot, and he likes me. We’re cool and we’re not doing anything stupid, so save yourself the worry and me the misery of another one of your ‘be careful’ sex talks, PLEASE. Both of us have plans for college. We’re just enjoying life and each other’s company, okay?”
Pat grinned. “Okay.”
Tara eyed her uncle as he dumped his scrambled eggs onto a plate.
“So, are you and Mona going out again?”
Pat blushed. “I don’t know. We talked about it. Why?”
Tara pointed at him with her bacon. “See . . . it feels weird being questioned about your sex life, doesn’t it?
Pat rolled his eyes. “I’m an adult. It’s different.”
Tara snorted lightly, but then her toast popped up, which thankfully changed the subject.
“Do we have any jelly?”
“In the door of the fridge,” Pat said.
Tara smeared peanut butter on her toast, added a spoonful of grape jelly, then took it and the plate of bacon to the table.
They ate in mutual silence until their plates were clean.
“I’ve got to hurry,” Pat said. “Do you mind cleaning up the kitchen?”
“Nope. Don’t mind at all,” Tara said. “See you this evening, Uncle Pat. Have a nice day.”
“See you later, alligator,” Pat said.
Tara grinned. Uncle Pat was such an old hippy. “After while, crocodile.”
She was still smiling as she cleaned up the kitchen. Since there was still no school, she decided to put in a load of clothes to wash, and so her morning went until it was time to get ready for her date with Flynn.
Flynn was due to arrive almost any minute, and Tara was still waffling about which pair of jeans to wear. She finally opted for the older comfy jeans, as opposed to the newer ones, and dressed quickly. She already had on a long-sleeved red t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her makeup done. All she needed were the shoes and she was good to go.
She was looking for her cell phone when she saw Flynn pull up into the driveway. She poked her he
ad out the door, held up a finger to indicate she needed a minute longer then ran back into the house.
“Oh dang it. Millicent! I can’t find my phone.”
Between the sofa cushions?
Tara made a quick leap for the sofa, and sure enough, it was there.
“Thanks,” she said, dropped the phone in her purse and locked the door behind her as went.
“Hi, pretty girl,” Flynn said, as Tara slid into the seat beside him.
She smiled. “Hi, yourself,” she said. “So where are we going?”
“Out by the storm site first, then I’m taking you to Texas Roadhouse for lunch.”
“I’ve never been there, but I heard the food is really yummy.”
“Yeah, it’s the best,” Flynn said. “They have an appetizer called Rattlesnake Bites that is so good.”
“It’s not real rattlesnake is it?” Tara asked.
Flynn laughed as he backed out of the driveway. “No. It’s jalapeno peppers and cheese and stuff.”
“Oh. That kind of bite,” Tara said, and then laughed as they drove away, unaware that the guy on the Harley a block and a half behind was trailing them.
“Show me the tree where you found the baby,” Flynn said, as they drove slowly through the ravaged neighborhood.
“It is east of what used to be a neighborhood park.”
“Oh, I know that park, or at least I used to. Dang . . . this place looks like a war zone,” Flynn said. “How awful is this?”
“Pretty awful,” Tara said, shivering slightly. The vibe of the place was still strong enough to make her sick. She pointed. “If you turn here, I think it takes you down by the park.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Flynn said, and a few moments later, Tara pointed. “That’s the tree . . . the really tall one with the huge limbs.”
“I can’t believe a baby actually lived through that.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Tara said softly.
Flynn reached for her hand and held it. They drove out of the area without talking. It wasn’t until they turned onto Lakeview Road and headed east that the mood shifted.