by Sarah Wynde
Noah closed his eyes, but recited the address to his brother. He didn’t deserve Niall. He was a crap brother. But his litany of self-reproach was nothing he hadn’t thought before.
“One condition. Call Mom.”
Noah shoved the heel of his hand into a closed eye, his other fist clenching on the phone.
“She’ll be happy just to know you’re breathing.”
“No, she won’t.” Noah sighed. “Nothing I do can make her happy.”
“She’s a mom. She worries. She can’t help it.”
“Yeah, but… it’s better this way.”
“For you, maybe.”
“Are you going to call her when we hang up?” Noah asked.
“Yes,” Niall snapped. “Of course I am. Dude, she worries about you every single day. It was bad enough when you were in the Army. At least then she knew she’d get a phone call. It would almost be easier if you were—” His heated words stopped, as dead as the word he hadn’t said.
“Yeah.” Noah’s eyes burned, but his voice stayed steady as he said, “I know the feeling.”
“Shit,” Joe said.
“If he dies, what happens to us?” The crying girl sounded more thoughtful than worried.
“You know I didn’t mean that.” Niall’s voice was rough. “It’s just… we miss you.”
His family missed the old him, Noah knew. The him who laughed. The him who let people in. The him who could be honest.
He missed that guy, too.
“No, seriously,” the crying girl said. “If he dies, what happens to us? Do we get to stop following him around all the time? Because that might not be so bad.”
Great, now his subconscious wanted to kill him.
“It’s okay,” Noah reassured his brother. “I miss you, too. I’ll…” He paused. He didn’t want to lie. But he dreaded calling home with a passion most people reserved for root canals. He’d rather have a root canal. At least a dentist would give him good drugs.
“Compromise?” Niall suggested.
Noah felt a smile creeping up his face. “Go.”
“Postcards. Five of them. And you call on our birthday. I’ll be there, so I can, you know, take the phone away if it gets too much.”
Their birthday wasn’t until July. “One postcard a month or can I send them all tomorrow?”
“One a month,” Niall said firmly, but his voice softened when he added, “First one to Mom, but you can mix it up on the next four. I wouldn’t mind getting the occasional postcard myself.”
“All right.” They chatted for a few more minutes, but the noise level on Niall’s side rose and lowered as if a door kept opening and closing, and he finally said he had to get back to work. Noah let him go with relief, grateful his brother hadn’t asked more hard questions.
He stood, phone in hand, planning his next moves. He should have been smarter about stashing some cash in a safe spot in his truck, but it was too late for regrets. Damn, but he was hungry. He could seriously go for a Big Mac, but Avery’s cocktail hour cheese and crackers would have to do for the night. At least breakfast was covered. He wouldn’t starve before Fedex arrived. He headed into the house, head down.
“Bad news?” Avery asked from the kitchen area.
Noah looked up, shaking his head. “No, it’s…”
But his words trailed off when he met the even gaze of Grace Latimer. She was perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. He swallowed, his mouth instantly dry. She’d changed her clothes. The fashion-plate suit was gone, leaving her in jeans and a black fleece pullover. She’d looked good in the heels and skirt, but she looked just as good, maybe even better, dressed for the outdoors.
Noah crossed toward the bar, holding the phone out to Avery. “Thanks for letting me use your phone.”
“No problem,” Avery replied. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
“I appreciate that.” Noah gave a brief nod.
He was standing close enough to Grace that he could feel her warmth, a shimmer of heat that radiated from her like one of those heat lamps at a fancy restaurant with an outdoor patio.
“I don’t have your wallet,” she said.
He looked directly at her for the first time since crossing the room. “I didn’t think you did.”
“I do have people looking for it.” One corner of her lips rose. “My staff was surprisingly enthusiastic about taking the afternoon to stomp around the forest, scaring off the bears. I think they’ll find it.”
“I’m okay if they don’t.” He tipped his chin toward Avery and the phone he’d returned. “I have a… friend, sending money.”
“In the meantime, can I buy you that lunch you missed? Maggie’s Place? She does a great meal. As you know.”
Noah wanted to say no. The last thing he needed was to spend time with the woman next to him. She was disaster, looming like a pile of drugs laid before a junkie. He figured she was somewhere between pot and heroin — maybe a casual painkiller addiction?
But his mouth formed the word, “Sure,” entirely against his will.
“Terrific.” She grabbed his hand, folding her fingers around his own. They felt warm against his skin. He wondered how long he’d been cold without noticing, but let himself be tugged along as the phone he’d handed back to Avery rang.
“Hello, Sunshine Bed-and-Breakfast,” Avery said into the phone, before letting it drop and adding, “Enjoy your lunch.”
Grace waggled the fingers of her free hand at Avery, saying, “See you later, Ave,” and Noah nodded with a quick glance over his shoulder.
As they entered the hallway, Avery started talking, words fluid and completely unintelligible to Noah, but somehow familiar. He pulled Grace to a stop, listening. One of his voices — the one that spoke in fake Chinese — burst into speech, the sound drowning out Avery’s voice.
“Something wrong?” Grace asked. She let go of his hand.
“What language is that?” Noah asked.
She cocked her head back toward the kitchen and then said, “Quechua. Avery’s family still lives in Peru.”
“Does it sound like Chinese to you?”
She looked surprised. She paused, listening. “I could see that,” she said with a nod. “Something about the rhythm? And maybe some of the sounds.”
He had to be imagining the similarity. No way could his subconscious speak in a language he’d never even heard of. It was impossible. Unless…
“I don’t know much about languages, though,” Grace said. Her clear gaze met his.
Noah’s suspicions faded. He was being paranoid again. General Directions hadn’t put a transmitter in his brain. He wasn’t the victim of some illicit experimentation. Grace Latimer ran a legitimate holding company with a solid reputation. His brother had told him so and if there was anyone on the planet Noah could trust, it was his twin.
His fake Chinese voice fell silent. In the kitchen, Avery continued speaking.
Noah listened for a moment longer.
It was impossible. Absolutely impossible. But the words sure sounded like those of the voice he’d been listening to for months.
13
Grace
She shouldn’t have kissed him.
She also should have thought to check the bed-and-breakfast days ago. Grace was annoyed at herself for skipping the obvious. If she’d realized Noah was still in Tassamara, she would have called Avery right away. But at least she’d found him there this afternoon.
She slid into one of the bench seats of a booth at Maggie’s, giving Noah a bright smile as he did the same on the opposite side.
Possibly she should have thought a little more about how to approach this conversation, too. True, she thought she’d have the entire flight to DC to figure it out, but still, she’d been so focused on finding Noah that she hadn’t considered what she was going to say to him.
She took her phone out of her bag, opened the cover so she could see the screen, and set it on the table. She straightened it, li
ning it up so the edge of the phone was precisely parallel to the edge of the table, then folded her hands in front of her, leaving the phone to the side. If Dillon was watching, he could hardly fail to notice his cue. What did he want her to do? This was his opportunity to tell her.
But when she glanced up, Noah’s eyes were on her. Did he think she was being rude, paying more attention to her phone than to him? She should explain.
But maybe not by telling him that she was hoping her ghostly nephew would send her a text.
She gestured at the phone. “I’m expecting a text. From the office. When they find your pack.” It felt like a stupid excuse, but at least it had the virtue of being true. Or partially true, anyway.
He nodded, but before he could say anything more, Emma arrived at the table. “Good afternoon,” she said breezily. “Late lunch, early dinner, or just a snack?”
“Lunch for me,” Grace responded. She hadn’t eaten yet. She raised her eyebrows at Noah, inviting his response.
“Uh, lunch is fine, I guess.” His frown deepened, though, as if he were unsure of his answer.
“Two specials?” Emma asked the question, but didn’t wait for an answer as the bell jangled over the door and two more customers entered. She moved away from the table, calling out, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Mulcahey, Mr. Voigt. Good to see you both.”
Mr. Voigt wasn’t using his cane and Mrs. Mulcahey wasn’t in her wheelchair, Grace noticed, lips curving in satisfaction. Not that the improvements in their respective healths had anything to do with her, but it was nice to see that the effects of Akira and Zane’s wedding hadn’t worn off yet.
Emma didn’t return. She was fussing over the two older people, helping to get them settled into a table by the window.
“Friends of yours?” Noah asked, following the direction of her smile.
“Oh…” Grace thought about explaining.
She could tell him the truth: that Kaye Mulcahey had multiple sclerosis and seldom left her house and that when she did it was in a wheelchair, and that Abe Voigt used a cane, had for years. But that at Grace’s brother’s wedding to Akira — the person Noah was looking for who Grace had denied knowing — Akira’s dead father appeared to escort her down the aisle, apparently opening something like a dimensional portal to do so. And that Rose, a ghost who might have gotten promoted to angel by moving on and then returning, had absorbed energy from the portal and shared it with Kenzi, Grace’s adopted niece, who’d used it to heal the older people, possibly only temporarily.
Yeah, maybe not.
Her father would have leaped into the explanation, but Grace was far more cautious.
“It’s a small town,” she replied. She adjusted the spacing of her phone, moving it a smidgen closer to her. Why wasn’t Dillon texting her?
“So you mentioned.” Noah glanced over his shoulder again. Emma had disappeared into the kitchen. “Looks like we’ve lost our waitress.”
“She’ll be back.” Probably bearing food, if Grace knew anything about it. Maggie might have started preparing their meals before Grace and Noah even walked in the door. Emma’s questions were often a formality, one that Maggie considered proper restaurant etiquette.
“What’s the difference between lunch and dinner?” Noah asked.
Grace blinked at him. Was it a riddle? “What?”
He tilted his head toward the kitchen. “Why’d she ask that? What’s the difference?”
“Lunch is lunch food and dinner is dinner?” Grace hazarded a guess, not sure what he was looking for.
He gave a slight shake of the head, implicit negation, but didn’t continue his line of questioning. “Thanks for looking for my stuff. You didn’t have to do that. It’s all replaceable.”
“They might not find it,” Grace replied. “It’s a big forest.”
“Yeah. Interesting location for a holding company.” The emphasis he placed on the last two words was unmistakeable, and his tone was dry as he added, “That is what you called General Directions, right?”
“Primarily a holding company,” Grace corrected him, wondering what he’d learned about the company since she’d last spoken with him.
“And the research and government business?”
“If I’d known that was what you were interested in…” Grace lifted a shoulder. “I might have gotten more detailed in my explanation.”
“Does that include an explanation of someone named Akira? Your sister-in-law, I believe?” he asked.
Grace winced. Oops. She hadn’t expected that half-truth to come back to haunt her. “Not a guy?” she offered.
His look in response held the sorrow of a betrayed puppy — reproach, disappointment, the merest trace of pain. It was something about the eyelashes, she thought, feeling a laugh rising. He might not even realize he was doing it.
“Our dog used to look at me like that,” she said. “Every morning when I went to school. Like I was breaking her heart.”
He gave a spurt of surprised laughter and the heat of attraction stirred within her. She tried to ignore it, giving him a conciliatory smile. “I’m sure you can understand why I might not be more forthcoming to a total stranger looking for my sister-in-law. You obviously don’t know her and I didn’t know why you were asking about her.”
“Fair enough,” he replied, but he seemed distracted.
Grace glanced at her phone. Still no word from Dillon.
Did Noah know he was haunted?
If Dillon wanted her to talk to Noah about ghosts, surely he’d be telling her what to say. The fact that he wasn’t was mystifying. And a little worrying. Grace wished she could talk to him and demand some answers, but she didn’t want to risk scaring Noah away.
“As you might know by now, Akira’s on her honeymoon,” she said. “She’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”
“Long honeymoon.”
“She’s having a baby in May. This is likely to be their last chance for a vacation for a while, so they wanted it to be a good one.”
“Makes sense.” Noah’s eyes flickered to the left, as if he was listening to a conversation happening in the aisle.
Grace sensed an opportunity. He hadn’t exactly responded positively to her earlier offer of a job, but maybe she could just slide it by him while he wasn’t paying attention. Take his acceptance for granted, make saying no more difficult than going along with her. “I understand you’d like to talk with her.”
“Yeah.” The frown between Noah’s eyes deepened. He wasn’t looking at her, his narrowed gaze aimed at the floor next to the table.
“Long-term, of course, Special Affairs is the right department for you,” Grace said smoothly. “You’d be working with Akira and Zane. Zane would be your manager.”
“Uh-huh,” Noah muttered.
Grace bit back her smile. Whatever he was listening to, it wasn’t her. “In the short-term, until they get back from Belize, I’ll add you to the security team. It seems like a good fit for your skillset.”
“Uh, what?” Noah’s eyes lifted to her.
“You can start Monday.” Grace shot him a bright smile as Emma arrived at the table, carrying two plates of food.
“Wait, what?” Noah said to Grace, ignoring the food.
But Emma slid the plates onto the table before them, saying, “I’m guessing whose is whose.” She glanced over her shoulder and added in a whisper. “You haven’t been hitting up the Mickey D’s, have you, Grace? Maggie was grumbling.”
“Not me.” Grace spread her fingers to indicate her innocence. Her plate held her favorite chicken salad with grapes on a poppy-seed roll, sliced in half, with a side of coleslaw.
But Noah’s plate was piled high with golden fries, thin-cut and glistening, plus a double-patty burger topped with lettuce and melted cheese on a sesame-seed bun.
“She thinks those skinny fries are an abomination.” Emma heaved a sigh. “But if that’s what you like, it’s what you like.” She pushed the plate with the burger on it closer to Noah, ran an exper
t eye over the table checking for ketchup, condiments and silverware, before snapping her fingers. “Drinks. BRB.”
“We didn’t order,” Noah said, frowning at his plate.
“That never bothers Maggie.”
Noah lifted the top off of his burger, revealing two sliced pickles, diced onions, and a coating of tangy orange Thousand Island dressing mixed with mayo. “This is a Big Mac.”
“I think McDonald’s would object to you calling it that. Trademarks, you know. It’s a burger. With, perhaps, similar qualities.”
Noah stared at his plate.
“Let me guess. Exactly what you wanted for lunch?”
“Yeah.” Noah sounded grim.
“Maggie’s good.” Grace kept her voice mild. She reached out and filched one of his fries, nibbling it as he contemplated his food. “Mmm, hot grease and salt. Delicious.”
“Help yourself.”
“I did.” She picked up her sandwich as he looked at her.
Emma whisked by their table. “Coke,” she announced, placing an icy glass in front of Noah, “and sweet tea.” She set the second glass by Grace. “Right?”
Grace nodded at her and the young waitress grinned. She looked the same question at Noah as he set the bun back on top of his burger.
“Yeah, great.” He picked up the Coke and took a swallow as Emma breezed away.
Was this the moment to talk to Noah about psychic gifts? Unusual intuitions? Abilities that science couldn’t explain or understand? Before Grace could decide, the bell jangled over the door and Natalya entered, followed by three of the kids. Grace leaned back in her seat, setting down her sandwich.
Kenzi was talking a mile a minute as she followed Natalya to the counter. “And Mrs. Joshi said that I could bring cupcakes to school on my birthday, too, but I want my cupcakes to be the yellow kind. With lots of colors in the icing. Or maybe blue icing but sprinkles. Can I have sprinkles on my cupcakes? I like sprinkles.” She gave a skip to catch up to Natalya.
Grace smiled. Her new niece’s selective mutism was long gone. In fact, Kenzi seemed to be making up for lost time with her chatter.