Discovering

by Wendy Corsi Staub

  “She always made me feel so good about coming to school here,”he tells Calla. “You know— like she was really proud that I got in.”

  “She was proud of you,”she tells him, wiping at tears in her own eyes with the corner of an unused napkin. “You know her. Ivy League was her thing.”

  Like Lisa, Kevin might not have as much in common with her daily life now as her new friends do—but he grew up with her. He knew the old, carefree Calla, before her world fell apart. He knew her mother. Jacy and Evangeline and the others didn’t. Kevin feels her loss in a way they never will.

  You can’t just write him out of your life, Calla tells herself. As hard as it is to accept the way he hurt you, you can’t erase all those years— or the feelings you still have for him.

  Maybe it’s not love anymore, not the kind a girlfriend has for a boyfriend, anyway. Maybe it’s the kind of love you feel for a good, true friend. Maybe that’s all she and Kevin were ever meant to be.

  “You know, Calla, your mom would have loved to know that you’re thinking of coming here, too.”

  Calla nods. “Except . . . I’m really not.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No. I don’t want to be this far from home.”

  He’s obviously disappointed. “So you’re going back to Florida, then, for school? I mean, my sister will be thrilled, but—”

  “No, I mean home, in Lily Dale.”

  “Really?”

  She nods. “I can’t go back to Tampa, Kevin. Too much has happened there— and here. I think I want to stay put for a while.”

  “I know . Seeing you there, when I visited . . . it was like you already belonged, even though . . .”

  “Even though what?”

  “Even though they all . . . I mean, they go around talking to ghosts, right? That’s what Lisa told me.”

  She’s getting tired of defending Lily Dale. “It’s not like that.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “You wouldn’t get it.”And she doesn’t feel like explaining.

  “Try me.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “You really want to know?”

  “I really want to know .”

  So she tells him. The whole story. Including the part about her own newfound abilities.

  When she’s finished, Kevin isn’t sitting there looking skeptical or spooked, and he doesn’t call her—or her grandmother and her new friends— a bunch of freaks. He’s just . . . intrigued.

  “So, these spirits that you see . . . are they all around us?”

  She glances around the pizzeria. In a nearby booth, she sees a 1940s-era G.I. cuddling his girlfriend, who has pompadour bangs and dark lipstick. In another, she sees a grunge musician–type in a flannel shirt and combat boots. And hovering behind the busboy is a worried sixty-something woman— his grandmother, probably.

  “Yeah,”she tells Kevin. “They’re all around us.”

  “And you see them all the time?”

  “Sometimes I have to look for them. But other times, they’re there whether I want to see them or not. I’m trying to learn how to tune them in and out.”

  “They’re teaching you that in Lily Dale?”

  “Yes.”

  “You should stay, then. It sounds like you’re in the right place.”

  “I am. And there’s a state university a few miles away. I’m hoping I can go there next year.”

  “Does your dad know that?”

  “No. But I think I’d better tell him.”

  THIRTY

  Geneseo

  Saturday, October 13

  3:16 p.m.

  Walking slowly toward Center Street, Laura can hear church bells ringing, as they do every hour on the hour.

  Is it four already?

  Surprised, she checks her watch.

  Nowhere near four.

  That’s strange.

  Even stranger, she feels compelled to head in their direction, toward the church in the heart of town.

  Father Donald.

  She needs to see Father Donald.

  She covers the few blocks to the church in just a few minutes, and goes directly to the side door . . . then pauses, frowning.

  The stained- glass window—her window, the one that led her here all those years ago— is gone.

  It’s been replaced with a regular one.

  Why?

  Maybe someone broke it, she decides as she rings the bell. I just hope they can find another one just like it.

  It takes Father Donald much longer than usual to come to the door.

  When it finally opens, though, for the first time ever, he’s not the one who answers it.

  An unfamiliar woman stands there, wearing a house keeper’s apron. “Yes?”

  “Hi. I was wondering if Father Donald is in?”

  “Whom?”

  “Father Donald,”she repeats, wondering if the house-keeper is new here.

  Still, no matter how new, you’d think she’d know the name of the parish priest.

  “Father Donald?”

  “Yes. Father Donald.”Maybe she’s hard of hearing.

  For a long moment, the woman just looks at her.

  “Come in,”she says at last. “Have a seat.”

  Laura perches on a chair in the waiting room, her luggage at her feet, and wishes she hadn’t come. There will be plenty of time for her to see Father Donald now that she’s back.

  The housekeeper reappears. “Follow me,”she says tersely. “You can leave your bags there if you like.”

  Laura does, gladly. They’re so heavy, she’s dreading carrying them up Center Street. And now that she’s detoured here, she’ll have even farther to go.

  “Here she is, Father,”the house keeper announces, and gestures for Laura to step through an open doorway.

  But the priest who greets her in the small study is a stranger. He’s a much younger man, with dark curly hair, and he’s wearing street clothes—jeans and a long-sleeved polo shirt.

  Laura looks around for Father Donald, but doesn’t see him anywhere. The room is spartan, with a few tables and chairs, blinds on the windows, a crucifix and some framed pictures on the walls.

  “Hi,”says the young man. “I’m Father Luke.”

  “Hi. I’m Laura.”

  “Why don’t you sit down?”He gestures at a wingback chair and sits in one opposite her. “I understand you’re looking for Father Donald.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry, Laura, but he passed away.”

  She gasps in horror. No. Oh, no. Please, no.

  Looking confused, Father Luke reaches out and touches her hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You couldn’t have known him, so I didn’t think—”

  “Yes, I knew him. When?”Laura manages to ask. “When did he die?”

  “A long time ago, but—”

  “Over the summer?”

  “The summer!”The young priest looks startled. Then he gestures up at the wall behind him. “You’re talking about Father Donald, right? The one who was once the parish priest here?”

  Laura looks up. Yes, there he is, smiling down from a portrait, wearing his familiar black shirt and collar.

  “Yes. Father Donald,”she agrees, hardly able to grasp that she’ll never see him again.

  “Laura, like I said, you couldn’t have known him. He died more than thirty years ago, before you were even born.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Ithaca

  Saturday, October 13

  3:17 p.m.

  “Maybe I’ll drive over and visit sometime,”Kevin tells Calla as he gives her a hug, standing on the sidewalk beneath the pizzeria’s dripping awning.

  “That would be nice,”she says, and means it.

  “Good-bye, Mr. Delaney. It was good to see you again.”

  “You too, son.”

  Calla watches Dad and Kevin shake hands.

  Everything happens for a reason.

  She’s here today not because she needed to see the ca
mpus in order to rule it out, but because she needed closure with Kevin. She needed to realize that there might be a place for him in her life after all. Not as a boyfriend— or even as an ex-boyfriend—but as a friend.

  Now she needs closure with her father.

  “Calla, pull the map out of the glove compartment, will you?”he says as they climb into the car. “I want to see which way to go to get to Hamilton.”

  “Dad—about that . . .”

  He looks at her. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

  “To Hamilton? No, Dad. I don’t. Not today, and not for college. And I don’t want to go here to Cornell, either, even though I know how much Mom was hoping for Ivy League for me. Or to Penn State.”

  Her father nods, seeming to absorb all that.

  “Are you mad?”

  “Mad? No! I just don’t know how to help you figure out what you want to do, Calla. Your mother was so good at this sort of thing. I know I’m the one who’s an academic, but I just don’t know what to tell you.”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything, Dad. I already know what I want to do. I want to live in Lily Dale, and go to Fredonia State.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  He seems to be thinking it over.

  “It’s a good school,”he says at last. “I like the idea of having you close by.”

  “Close by? You mean . . . you’re thinking of staying in Lily Dale, too?”

  He nods. “Not in Ramona’s guest room, though.”

  “But you’re . . . getting along with her. Right?”

  “Right!”he says enthusiastically. “We’re getting along great!”

  She can’t help but smile. “I noticed.”

  “You’re sure you don’t mind, Calla? Because you’ve been awfully quiet lately.”

  Yes. But not because of her father’s new relationship.

  “Why would I mind, Dad?”

  “Maybe it’s too soon for you to see me spending so much time with a woman who’s not your mother. But, Calla, your mother and I . . . we were living separate lives toward the end. If it weren’t for you . . . I don’t know that we’d have still been together.”

  “But . . . that’s so sad.”

  “Your mother and I loved each other very much. But we were never a perfect match. It took me a long time to realize that. When we met, got engaged, got married—it was a whirlwind. Maybe a little too much of a whirlwind. You know your mother. She always liked to have a plan.”

  “You mean getting married was her idea?”

  “It was our idea, but I remember being dazed that this beautiful, successful, amazing woman wanted a guy like me. It was too good to be true. Now, looking back, I think she wanted me because I was safe, you know— after all she’d been through.”

  “I know she loved you, Dad.”

  “And I loved her. But I think we both eventually realized that we didn’t have a whole lot in common other than being your parents.”

  “Dad . . .”She hesitates, then voices the question that’s been on her mind all weekend. “Did Gammy tell you about . . . Mom and Darrin? I mean . . . about this past spring?”

  “Yes. She did. Look, Calla . . . I don’t know what was going on between the two of them, but whatever happened, I have to forgive your mother. And so do you.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “I hope you’ll try to forgive me, too.”

  “Forgive you? For what?”

  “Nothing is ever all one person’s fault, Calla. If the marriage was failing . . . we were both responsible. The other thing is, I shouldn’t have gone off to California in August and left you to deal with everything on your own, in a strange place— and I mean that in the most literal sense.”

  But not in a bad way, she realizes, seeing the affectionate smile on his face.

  “I wasn’t on my own, Dad. I had Gammy.”

  “Yes, and she’s been great. And I guess I was just so devastated by what happened that I couldn’t think clearly. But now that the fog has lifted, I know that you and I belong together.”

  “In Lily Dale.”

  “For now, yes. For a while, at least. But I can’t stay with the Taggarts forever. I figured I could look for a place to rent, and see if I can get a teaching position.”

  “What if you don’t? I mean, right away?”

  “I won’t have to worry,”he levels a look at her, “if I sell the house. But I don’t know how you feel about that.”

  “Sell it, Dad.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  It will mean cutting their last real tie to Tampa.

  But that, Calla realizes, will be a relief.

  It’s time to move on.

  “All right, then. I’ll get the ball rolling on that. I was worried about how you were going to take it.”

  “It’s just a house. And you can probably get a lot of money for it.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “I could never live there again, after what happened there. With Mom, and then with me. Every time I saw that stairway, or the pool, I’d remember all the bad stuff. And I just want to forget.”

  “So do I.”He puts the keys in the ignition. “I guess that’s all decided, then?”

  “All decided.”

  “So we’re going home to Lily Dale now?”

  “Yes,”she says with a smile, settling into the passenger’s seat. “We’re going home to Lily Dale.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Ithaca

  Saturday, October 13

  8:31 p.m.

  The drive home to Lily Dale has been far more pleasant than the outbound trip. Calla and her father haven’t done much talking, but their silence is companionable. Now that there’s a sense of resolution for their future— as a family, and as individuals— the tension between them has all but dissolved.

  It’s almost like the old days.

  Almost . . . but not quite.

  Things will never be the same. Mom is gone, and Calla is growing up, and Dad is moving on, with Ramona.

  Calla’s excited about what the future might hold for her, but a part of her might always feel wistful for the past.

  Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe that’s how it is for everyone. The older you get, the more memories you’ve made. You can’t help but think about the way things used to be.

  Especially when you’ve lost someone you love.

  Darkness has long since fallen by the time Calla and her father arrive at the Lily Dale gates.

  “Your grandmother is going to want to hear everything,”Dad comments as they drive along the rutted, deserted street.

  “About . . . Jack?”Calla can’t bring herself to call him her grandfather. Not aloud. Maybe someday, but not yet.

  “About Jack, and about your decision to stay here for college.”

  Calla nods. Odelia isn’t the only one who will want to hear that.

  “Dad? Do you think you could drop me off at Jacy’s?”

  She fully expects him to protest, but he nods. “That’s fine. Just don’t stay long. It’s getting late, and it’s a school night.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  She’s about to tell him how to get there but he’s already making the turn in the right direction.

  “You know where Jacy lives?”Calla asks in surprise as they pull up in front of Walt and Peter’s house.

  “Sure. What do you think I am, an outsider?”

  Calla can’t help but grin at that. Dad, too, has become a part of this strange little town. Who would have ever guessed that would happen? Who would have guessed any of this?

  “Thanks, Dad.”She leans over to give him a hug. “For dropping me off here and for . . . everything.”

  “No problem. Don’t be long,”he reminds her as she climbs out of the car. “Your grandmother will be waiting to hear all about it, and she’ll want to hear it from you.”

  Calla waves and hurries toward the porch, hoping Jacy will be home.
She’s never just dropped in before, but . . .

  It’s okay, right? He’s her boyfriend, after all.

  Warmed by the thought, she hurries up the steps and rings the bell.

  It doesn’t take long for the front light to flick on. In Lily Dale, even in the off- season, people are quite accustomed to doorbells ringing unexpectedly.

  Balding, bearded Peter Clifford opens the door, probably expecting a walk- in appointment for a reading.

  “Calla!”

  “Hi, Peter. I’m sorry to just barge in but I wanted to talk to Jacy if he’s home?”

  “No problem, he’s upstairs taking a shower. Come on in.”Peter holds the door open.

  She steps into the entryway and admires the decor, as always. Peter and Walt have painstakingly remodeled the old cottage with authentic Victorian wallpaper, fixtures, and furnishings, capturing the period style without frilly, fussy overkill.

  Peter calls to Jacy from the foot of the stairs. “Are you out of the shower? Calla’s here!”

  “What? Really? Tell her I’ll be down in two seconds!”

  “He’ll be down in two seconds,”Peter echoes dryly. “How’s your grandmother? I haven’t seen her in a few days.”

  “I haven’t, either,”she admits. “I’ve been away, looking at colleges.”

  “Really? Where?”

  She tells him, and his eyes light up.

  “I went to Cornell. I was premed. Of course that was way back in the olden days.”

  Peter, she knows, used to be an M.D. Somewhere along the way, he made the transition to psychic healer and wound up in Lily Dale.

  “So are you applying there?”he asks Calla.

  “To Cornell?”She shakes her head. “I want to stay close to home.”

  “Jacy will, too. I wish we could afford to send him away to school, but . . .”He shrugs.

  Calla—who hasn’t been able to get much out of Jacy when it comes to talk of next year—is glad to hear that he won’t be going far. Absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder, she acknowledges, thinking of Kevin.

  Footsteps creak down the stairs and Jacy appears. He’s barefoot, wearing gray sweats, and his hair looks as though he just rubbed it dry with a towel.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?”He seems pleasantly surprised to see her. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow night.”