“That I couldn’t accept the woman I married. I loved her, but I couldn’t accept her, or the things that went on around her. I guess I wasn’t man enough to handle it. I was afraid.”
“A lot of people are afraid of things they can’t understand,”Dad points out.
“Maybe. That’s no excuse. I took a vow, and then I broke it. Ran away. What kind of man runs away?”
Calla thinks of Darrin.
Then of Mom, who twice in her life was abandoned by men she loved.
No wonder she didn’t want to tell Dad where she’d come from. She was afraid of losing him, too.
Seeing the look on Dad’s face, Calla realizes he’s thinking the same thing— and forgiving Mom.
“So what happened, exactly? One day, you just woke up and couldn’t take it anymore and decided to leave?”Calla asks her grandfather.
“Not exactly. One day I woke up and found my little girl talking to someone who wasn’t there.”
“What do you mean?”Calla asks, as an incredible thought takes hold somewhere in the back of her mind.
“Stephanie was having a conversation with someone only she could see. . . . That used to happen a lot, but I tried to ignore it. Told myself a lot of kids have imaginary friends. But that day, as I was watching Stephanie, I saw a chair pull itself out from her little table, like someone had just sat down in the spot where her imaginary friend would be. And I realized . . . it wasn’t an imaginary friend. She was seeing ghosts, too.”
Wide- eyed, Calla and her father look at each other.
“But Mom . . . she wasn’t . . . I mean, she wasn’t like her mother,”Calla protests, unable to grasp what Jack Lauder is telling her. “She didn’t have the ability to—”
“Yes, she did. At least, she did when she was a little girl.”
“How can you know that?”Dad asks.
“I know what I saw with my own eyes. And I know what Stephanie told me. I marched over there and I demanded to know who she was talking to, and she said it was a ghost named Miriam. What kind of kid makes up a name like Miriam?”
Calla feels as though the wind has been knocked out of her with a baseball bat.
“I yelled at her,”Jack says, wiping tears from his eyes again. “I yelled at my baby girl for something she couldn’t help. I told her to cut it out. Stop making things up. She said she wasn’t making things up. Then I told her . . . I told her she was nuts. Just like her mother.”His voice breaks. “I’m so ashamed.”
Sick inside, Calla can’t find a thing to say that won’t just make it harder on him.
He was wrong to say what he said, to do what he did. So, so wrong.
Because of him, Calla realizes, Mom denied who she really was— not just to the rest of the world, but to herself.
That’s why Mom was so upset when she realized I had the ability, too, when I was younger. That’s why she told me never to tell anyone, not even Dad.
“I’ve spent every day of my life regretting that,”Jack Lauder tells Dad and Calla, shaking his head. “So many times, I wanted to go back to my wife and daughter . . . but how could I? By the time I figured out that I loved them the way they were, too much time had passed. I missed it all. I missed everything.”
“But you remarried,”Dad points out.
“Yes. Don’t get me wrong— I love my wife. We’ve had a good life together. Better than I deserved. But I never forgot what I left behind.”He pauses. “Did Stephanie . . . did she ever mention me?”
“Just that you left,”Calla tells him honestly. “And that it really hurt her.”
Understatement of the year.
“I’m so sorry,”Jack says again. “And now I’ll never have the chance to tell her.”
“No,”Dad says. “It’s too late for that.”
“But it’s not too late to tell my grandmother.”
Jack Lauder looks at Calla, startled.
“No,”he agrees thoughtfully, “it’s not too late for that.”
“Maybe some closure would be good for everyone,”Dad says.
“Where would I find Odelia?”he asks. “If, someday, I wanted to talk to her?”
“Same place she was when you left her.”
“How is she?”
“She’s great,”Calla says fiercely, not wanting him to think Odelia has been wasting away since he left.
Jack nods. “I’m not surprised. I knew she’d land on her feet. I’m sure she was better off without me.”
How can he say that? Calla wonders. Maybe it’s the only way he can deal with what he did.
It seems like lately all she’s done is listen to the adults in her life admit that they’re flawed; that they’ve made serious mistakes.
Things were a lot easier back when she believed that growing up meant you were wise, and always knew what to do, and did the right thing.
“Thank you for coming,”her grandfather says, painstakingly hoisting himself up off the steps. “I wish I could ask you to stay, but my wife . . . she doesn’t know about any of this. Yet.”
“Yet?”Dad echoes. “Does that mean you’re planning to tell her?”
“Yes. I’d like to get to know you, and my granddaughter. I just need time to make things right here. I hope you understand that.”
Dad nods and shakes his hand as Jack says, “Thank you for telling me about Stephanie.”
Then Jack turns to Calla, holding out his hand. She hesitates before clasping it.
Instead of shaking it, he puts his other hand around it and squeezes. His grasp is surprisingly strong, and warm.
“I’m sure you did your mother proud, young lady.”
Tears spring to her eyes, and she swallows hard, unable to speak.
“I hope we’ll meet again.”He releases her hand.
“So do I,”she manages to say before her father puts an arm around her and, together, they walk through the darkness toward the car.
TWENTY-SIX
New York City
Saturday, October 13
7:05 a.m.
The first rays of sunlight bathe Laura’s studio apartment in a soft pink glow as she zips the top of the ancient leather suitcase she found several months ago in the attic of the purple house.
Now, once again, she’s packed it with all her worldly possessions— everything she brought with her to New York, plus the few outfits she managed to buy while she was here.
Looking around the room, she wonders if she’ll ever see it again.
Maybe not. Maybe there’s really nothing for her here in the city after all.
Perhaps it was merely a good place to get lost for a few months. A good place to figure out that she can survive on her own, here—or anywhere, really.
Maybe there’s nothing for her in Geneseo, either, but she can’t keep looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life.
It took her all night to figure that out, tossing restlessly and looking, every so often, over at the vase of calla lilies on the bedside table.
She still has no idea who sent them.
Liz Jessee is the only guess that remotely makes sense, but why wouldn’t she own up to such a sweet gesture? Anyway, she has no idea that Laura is from western New York. If she were to surprise her with a ticket home, it would be to Minneapolis.
So it couldn’t have been Liz.
Who else is there?
Father Donald.
Except, she hasn’t been in touch with him since she left. He wouldn’t know where to find her.
Laura picks up her suitcase and heads for the door.
The only thing that’s certain is that she has a paid seat on a flight leaving New York City in just a few hours.
If she doesn’t use it, she might not have another chance.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Ithaca, New York
Saturday, October 13
2:15 p.m.
“Please feel free to ask me any questions you might have,”the perky female student guide invites the group at the conclusion of a soggy campus walking tour of Cornell.
Dad looks at Calla beneath their shared umbrella. “Any questions, Cal’?”
She shakes her head. “No. Not really.”Other than, Can we leave now?
Not just because—lovely and impressive as the university is—she’s certain she doesn’t want to come here.
But also because she’s worried she’s going to run into Kevin.
Especially now that he knows she and her father are here today.
This morning, when she and Dad called Odelia to check in, she reported that Kevin had called for her the night before.
Lisa must have told him the latest news. Calla had figured she would.
She hadn’t expected him to call, though—much less for her grandmother to tell him where they were.
“I’m sorry—I felt like I should mention it,”Odelia said over the phone, to Calla’s dismay. “In case you ran into him on campus, or something.”
“It’s okay,”she murmured.
After all, Kevin did offer to show her and Dad around if they came to see Cornell.
She feels guilty for not letting him know they were coming, but she could barely think straight in the days before the trip.
He gave Odelia his dorm phone number— and his cell, too, as if Calla doesn’t already have it— and told her to have them call him.
Calla couldn’t bring herself to do it.
She doesn’t want to see him.
What are the odds that she’ll run into him, in the space of a few hours, on what she just learned is an almost eight-hundred-acre campus populated by twenty thousand students— not to mention the countless spirits she’s seen wandering everywhere?
Slim to none.
Still, Calla won’t breathe easy until they’re back in the car and headed to Hamilton, where they’ll tour Colgate University tomorrow morning, the last stop on the tour.
They didn’t get into State College last night until after ten o’clock, but Dad insisted on driving her through the Penn State campus before heading to their hotel. This morning, they took an early-bird tour before driving almost three hours to Cornell, arriving just before the day’s last scheduled tour started at one o’clock.
“Well, it’s been great meeting you all,”the guide tells the small group of prospective students and their parents, “and I wish you luck, whether you wind up at Cornell next year or not.”
Not, Calla thinks as the group disperses.
If she’s learned anything today, it’s that she doesn’t want to be this far from home. The mountains and gorges of central Pennsylvania and New York State are scenic— breathtaking, even—but she misses Lily Dale already.
Enough that she’s certain heading to Colgate will be a waste of time.
No, she’s anxious to get back home and wait— or at least, hope—for word on her sister. Gammy said the detectives have had no luck finding Laura Logan so far, but they’re searching.
“Are you hungry?”Dad asks as they leave the information center, heading toward the visitors’ parking lot.
“A little.”She idly watches a group of ghostly students in 1950s-style poodle skirts, bobby sox, and high ponytails cross their path.
“Why don’t we go to lunch somewhere in town before we head out to Hamilton?”
“Dad, about that—”
“Calla!”
Startled to hear a male voice shout her name, she spins around.
Kevin.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Geneseo, New York
Saturday, October 13
2:55 p.m.
Filled with misgivings, Laura steps off the bus in Geneseo at last.
Her flight was delayed for hours due to heavy rains sweeping western New York. As she sat endlessly waiting by the gate at JFK airport, it was all she could do not to turn and leave the airport. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she had already checked her bags, and she knew the plane wouldn’t be able to take off without her on board to go with her luggage.
Now that she’s here, though, she desperately wishes she hadn’t come.
She’s desperately tired, and desperately hungry, and after paying the bus fare, she has less than five dollars to her name.
Not sure what will greet her when she reaches the purple house—but certain the fridge contents will be spoiled and the cupboards bare as usual—she decides to stop at the Speakeasy Café first. She might just barely be able to afford a cup of coffee and something small to eat.
Stepping into the warm, cozy room, with its exposed brick walls and battered hardwood floors, Laura is comforted by the strong, welcoming scent of coffee and baked goods. The small, round café tables are filled with college students, none of whom give her a second glance. That’s fine with her. She heads for the counter, with its colorful chalkboard menu, and does some quick math. Yup. If she buys coffee and a muffin, she’ll have about twelve cents left over.
Then what?
Then you’ll figure it out, she tells herself. One step at a time.
She waits on the line, pretending to be absorbed by the television set mounted on the wall: breaking news on CNN. There’s been a catastrophic earthquake today in Shanghai.
Watching the footage of traumatized people being pulled from the rubble, Laura feels as though she can relate to them: her world has been shaken to the core, and nothing is familiar.
“Well, look who’s back in town.”The tattooed, heavyset female cashier behind the counter eyes her suitcases.
“Hello,”Laura says politely, trying not to panic.
Just because the woman, who happens to be a longtime neighbor on her block of Center Street, has noticed that she’s been away doesn’t mean—
“I heard about your mother.”
Oh, yes it does. Well, of course people know . Being arrested for murder is big news. National news. How could Laura have fooled herself for one instant into believing that the people of Geneseo aren’t buzzing?
The cashier, with sympathetic eyes, leans closer to Laura and whispers, “The cops have been in here looking for you.”
“When?”
“A few times. Most recently, last night. A coupla detectives from Florida. They’ve been asking for you all over town, I heard. They said it’s real important that they talk to you, and they asked me to call them if I saw you. Now, I can pretend that I didn’t, if you want to make yourself scarce again . . . but you might just want to get it over with. Sooner or later, they’ll catch up with you, and if you’ve got nothing to hide . . .”
“I don’t,”Laura tells her, surprised by her kindness— and her offer. “Do what you have to do.”
The woman nods. “You poor thing. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Conscious of a pair of coeds who have come up behind her, waiting to order, she says, “No. Thank you, though.”
“Okay. What can I get for you, then?”
Her appetite is gone, but she has to eat something. Once she gets back home, she’s not going to venture out again for a long, long time. “Can I please have a coffee and a corn muffin?”
“Sure. Large or small on the coffee?”
Again, she counts the bills and change in her hand. “Small,”she says reluctantly.
The woman fills a large cup, anyway, and puts several muffins into a white paper bag. “Here,”she says, “it’s on the house. You just take care of yourself.”
Her eyes tearing up, Laura gratefully takes the bag. For the first time, she dares to think she might just be okay here after all.
TWENTY-NINE
Ithaca
Saturday, October 13
3:07 p.m.
“Why don’t you two sit here and finish eating,”Dad suggests to Calla and Kevin, standing and picking up his tray containing an empty soda can and white paper plate stained orange with pizza grease, “and I’ll take the car down the road and gas up for the trip.”
“I’m actually just about finished,”Calla tells him quickly, not wanting to be left alone in the cozy little pizzeria with Kevin.
&nbs
p; He reaches out and touches her hand. “Stay, Calla. I really want to talk to you.”
Feeling helpless, she shrugs.
“I’ll be back for you in about ten minutes,”her father says, and heads out the door.
It was his idea to take Kevin with them for lunch. The two of them carried on a stilted conversation, small talk about college life at Cornell, as Calla halfheartedly nibbled at her pizza.
The strange thing is, as much as she didn’t want to run into Kevin . . .
It’s kind of comforting to see him.
Scary- comforting.
“Look, I figured you didn’t want to see me today,”Kevin tells her, pushing away his half-eaten second slice of pizza.
“Was it that obvious?”
“Pretty much.”He gives an uncomfortable laugh. “I mean, here you are, right here on campus, and you didn’t call me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I guess I shouldn’t have waited around the information center, checking out all the tour groups coming through today, but I really wanted to talk to you.”
“It’s okay. I know I should have told you I was going to be here today, but . . .”
But I really couldn’t deal with seeing you again.
“You’ve had a lot going on,”he fills in for her. “I know . Lisa called and told me. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of your dad.”
“About my half sister? My dad knows.”
“I wasn’t sure. How do you feel about it?”
“Glad. Upset. Scared to death.”Kind of how she feels about seeing Kevin again.
“Your grandmother said that they haven’t found her yet.”
“No.”
“What are you going to do when they do?”
“I’m not sure. Meet her, I guess.”
“It’ll be weird for you to suddenly have a sister after all these years, you know?”
“I know .”
“But maybe it’ll be nice. You know . . . like a link to your mom.”
“Yeah.”Calla smiles faintly, folding and unfolding her cold pizza on the plate. “That’s what I’m thinking.”
“You know, it’s strange to see you and your dad without your mom around. I really miss her.”
Touched, Calla looks up and is surprised to see tears in Kevin’s blue eyes.
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