by Cate Lawley
“See what I mean? All under control.”
“Yeah.” She opened the car door. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from Dad. I think you should probably get the scoop on what exactly happened—if he can share it. Oh, and Uncle Bedivere—”
“Yep. I got it. Bedivere might send someone over to torture my soul into silence.”
Zelda laughed. “Yeah. In retrospect, that seems like the least of my concerns and highly unlikely on your end. But forewarned, forearmed, et cetera. It’ll be interesting to see exactly how much trouble I’m in.”
“Get to bed early tonight and get some more sleep. I’ll see you when your dad’s home.”
She unlocked the door, pulled herself past the kitchen and up the stairs, and dropped onto her bed. She might not even make it to this evening. She might just fall asleep right now. Then she realized: Mark didn’t have the slightest hesitation about meeting her dad. Mark wasn’t terrified witless, unlike every magic guy she’d ever met. Because Mark was brave and kind and generous and…
Her eyes fluttered closed.
Chapter 14
It was four days before her dad turned up. Four very long, very stressful days. She kept herself busy with work, stocking up the kitchen, cooking, and reading up on flower arranging. She only saw Mark briefly the day after she’d spoken with Bedivere, and that was when the lovely man returned her car. She’d planned to get a rideshare car to drop her at her car before work, but she’d gotten a text from Mark saying he’d found her spare key in the magnetic hide-a-key in her wheel well, that she might want to find a new place for it, and that he and a buddy would be swinging by shortly to drop it in her drive.
She hadn’t met up with him since he’d returned her car for a number of reasons. In part because she’d be poor company until her dad was home safe. In part because she felt like she’d invaded the poor man’s life without giving him any say. But the greatest part was fear. At some point she’d fallen for him. Love? That was a big word. She knew she loved the way he made her feel—brave, capable, able to handle the smallest detail or the greatest problem. She loved the way he approached every day with confidence tempered by modesty. She loved that he wanted to make the world a better place and that he acted on that desire. She loved that he could pry into the minds of passers-by and yet he chose not to. And that wasn’t even the end of the list.
But he was a normal. And he had his life together. He had a job he liked, he owned his own business, and he wasn’t going broke from what she could tell. That was pretty together in her book.
She didn’t see how it could possibly work—or, rather, she was afraid to hope it might work.
And after four days of dithering over her love life and then her dad’s absence, and then her love life—back and forth like an emotional yo-yo, her dad came home.
She got a text from her dad: Home again. Everything’s good.
She was at work delivering flowers when she got the text. She was almost at her next delivery location, a quiet suburban neighborhood in the south. As soon as she passed the entrance sign to the neighborhood, she pulled over to the side of the road and called her dad back.
“Hey, kiddo.”
“Hey, Dad. You’re really all right?”
“You bet. Tired, but otherwise good. I got the go-ahead to share the details with you, so I’ll tell you all about it when you get home. Are you at work?”
“Yes, delivering flowers. I should be home by eight.” Zelda knew better than to press for details now. Some things simply needed to be said in person.
“See you then. Oh, and I’ll get delivery for dinner tonight.”
“No need. Check the fridge and freezer. I went on a cooking jag, so we should be good for a while.” Her words were greeted with silence. “Dad?”
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry you were so worried.” He exhaled loudly, and Zelda could picture him rubbing the back of his neck. He did that when he was super stressed out.
“No worries, Dad. Really. See you tonight.”
After she hung up, she made another call, and then she put her phone away and tried to concentrate solely on work. Three more hours before eight o’clock, and she wasn’t sure how she felt—so best to focus on work for now.
Zelda opened the backdoor at eight-fifteen. She hadn’t meant to be late, but she got turned around on her last delivery. Probably because she hadn’t been as focused on work as she should have been. But that fifteen minutes meant Mark had arrived already. She’d passed his hybrid in the drive. “Oops,” she murmured. Louder, she said, “I’m home.”
“In the living room.” Her dad’s voice sounded normal enough.
She hesitated, and then kicked herself in the rear. She’d invited Mark and come home late, so she needed to own up to the consequences. She walked into the living room expecting the worst.
Mark was sitting on the sofa, comfortably ensconced with a beer in one hand.
Her dad sat in his favorite recliner, opposite Mark. He even had the chair partially reclined. The two looked like they’d been hanging out for a while, talking sports, drinking beers, and generally doing what guys do. It was unnerving.
“Hey.” It was all Zelda could manage in the face of such camaraderie.
Mark started to rise, but Zelda motioned for him to stay seated. He said, “Your dad was just telling me about one of his favorite meals. It sounds simple enough that I might even try it.”
Not sports, then. Zelda smiled weakly and then sat down at the other end of the sofa. “I’m glad you’ve already met each other, and sorry I was late.” She glanced back and forth between both men as she spoke, and then settled on her dad. “Since Mark helped me out when you went missing, I thought he should hear about what happened.”
No dithering and straight to the point; she was quite proud of herself.
“All right.”
“And none of this torturing, fingernail pulling talk like Uncle—” She stopped when she realized her dad had agreed. “All right. Uh, no visits from Uncle Bedivere or any of his crew?”
“I can’t speak for Bedivere, and I’m not sure what crew you mean. He’s not a mafia boss or gangster. But I’m sure his employees will refrain from utilizing pliers in creative ways beyond the tool’s intended purpose.” Her dad’s lips twitched. He was definitely trying not to laugh. “I had a chat with Bedivere about the nondisclosure rules. I wasn’t aware he’d so strongly impressed upon you the need to remain secretive about magic and my job. He reminded me that he and my predecessor had been in the awkward position of explaining the rules to a fifteen-year-old girl, and neither of them had been certain what they should say to keep you quiet.”
Zelda leaned forward. “Are you telling me they made all of that up? The fingernails, toenails, whatever, and the tortured soul stuff?”
“You couldn’t really think Bedivere had a torture squad?” Her dad’s lips were past twitching, and he was now trying to hold back a full blown grin. “You must have known on some level it was malarkey.”
“Oh, good grief. I will never let him forget this. Spying on me, telling me big whoppers as a kid. He is a terrible almost-uncle.” Zelda crossed her arms and fell back against the cushions of the sofa. “I might have suspected some exaggeration, of course, but outright fibbing…shame on him.”
“To give the guy some credit,” Mark said, “Most fifteen year-olds aren’t particularly capable of keeping mum. I’d probably have come up with some dire consequences, too, if I’d been in his shoes.”
“Shush with your fair-talk. I’m allowed to be annoyed for a few minutes.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I can’t hold a grudge against Uncle Bedivere anyway. He really is a lovely guy.”
“So about my disappearance…” Dad said. “Do you want a beer first?” he asked Zelda.
“I think I’ll pass. I’ve had a boozy week.” When her dad, who knew she wasn’t a big drinker, gave her a curious look, she lifted her hands. “Not that bad. Just had a drink on an empty stomach once or twice. And I haven’t eaten
dinner yet.”
“Okay. Well, long story short, I’m trying to quit.”
“Whoa—what?” Zelda’s startled question popped out unbidden, but then another and another just rolled out. “Without talking to me? Now? Can you even do that? How do you do that?”
Her dad took a sip of beer. “Are you done?”
“Huh. Uh, yeah. Sorry. Just a bit surprising.”
Her dad set his beer down. “I can leave when I find a suitable replacement, and that can take a long time, years sometimes. Because of the way reaping works—and no I can’t get into the specifics—I have to hunt for appropriate candidates after hours, so to speak.”
“Oooh. That’s why you’ve been so tired lately.” Zelda winced sympathetically. She was a little tired—in a good way, but still—with all of her various working endeavors. She couldn’t imagine releasing all of the world’s newly dead souls in one day and then coming home to do more work. “That’s rough, Dad. Sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. I thought I’d found a candidate, Bedivere vetted him, and we both approached him. We were on a training deployment when things went awry.”
“Ouch.” Mark said. “Awry is more than a little terrifying in the context of separating a person’s soul from their dead body.”
Her dad nodded in agreement and finished off the last quarter of his beer.
“And that’s how you ended up in Limbo?” Zelda remembered Uncle Bedivere saying something about making the locals restless with their psychometric probing. “Oh. The locals Uncle Bedivere mentioned—trapped souls?”
“Yes and yes. There’s time distortion or differentiation when moving from Limbo to our plane; I don’t exactly understand it. But the result is that we were gone longer than we’d hoped. There wasn’t a moment to spare, or I would have tried to call before we left. It turns out that placing a call from Limbo is complicated.”
“Oh, I get that. I can’t even imagine. And I don’t want to even think about how those poor people must have felt.” But Zelda couldn’t help imagining it—being trapped in a strange place. Because the way she understood it, Limbo wasn’t a way station. Limbo was another realm. She didn’t know where souls went after a person died—that was getting into the super secrets: death and afterlife. But she knew it wasn’t supposed to be Limbo.
Her dad wore a grim expression. “There’s an investigation pending. Something like this should never have happened. Bedivere’s not sure how it did, and we all want to make sure it never happens again. I think that’s it. I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to bed. I’ll leave you kids to some dinner. Lasagna’s in the oven warming.”
And he went to bed. Just like that.
“I can’t believe…” Zelda looked at the hallway that led to his bedroom. “Weird.” She turned to Mark. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“I’ve just been sitting over here, trying to absorb it all, and not annoy your dad. Red eyes, scythe, and all. You mentioned that before, anyway.” He said the word scythe like you’d say tall, or dark hair. A descriptor with no particular power.
Zelda narrowed her eyes. “What exactly were you guys doing before I got here?”
“We had a talk. He asked a few question. I answered honestly. Done.” Mark shrugged. “Your dad seems like a really nice guy.”
“Huh.”
“I’m actually kind of hungry. Lasagna?” Mark asked and half-rose from the sofa.
“Oh, yes. Definitely.” She followed him into the kitchen.
She fetched dishes and pulled the lasagna out of the oven, all with a distracted air. Something was off about this whole evening. After setting the casserole dish on a trivet, she asked, “Exactly what kind of questions did he ask you?”
Mark sighed. “Am I interested? Yes. Was I a decent guy? Yes. Would I treat his daughter right? I thought I would. That kind of stuff.”
Zelda turned bright red. “Oh. No. He. Didn’t.”
Mark shook his head. “And that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d overact. He’s your dad, and maybe a tiny bit over-protective. Of course he asked those questions.”
“I’m not overreacting. I’m mortified.”
“Overreacting,” he said it with conviction. “Give your dad and yourself a break. Are we going to eat?”
“Wait—so you told him you were interested in me in a romantic sense?”
Blue-grey eyes met hers. “Yes.” He nodded, just in case words weren’t enough, she suspected. She was being particularly slow this evening.
“But I said—”
“You said you were only interested in being friends. And I’m absolutely interested in being friends. Why would I want to date a woman who wouldn’t make a great friend? I also happen to think you’re incredibly hot, a fantastic person, and eminently datable.”
Zelda blinked at so many compliments, all stated as if they were simply fact. She took a short, shallow breath, the spatula in her hand poised in the air over the lasagna. “We just made the leap from friends to something else, and I completely missed it.”
“Nope. You didn’t miss it. Zelda, I’d like to go out on a date with you. Can I take you out to dinner?”
She laughed. “Yes. I would love that. I really would.”
Mark took the spatula from her hand, set it down, and then pulled her into his arms. And she melted. Her life had just taken a turn for the exceptionally awesome.
Epilogue
Glenda had been expecting the call all day. And she couldn’t hide her relief when she answered. “Where have you been? I know you returned to this realm earlier today.” She addressed the question to her dressing table mirror.
“Cleanup after you left took longer than planned.” The mirror moved sluggishly, and Bedivere sounded tired.
Glenda had departed Limbo almost as soon as the cloud of souls had dispersed. Bedivere had been most insistent.
“I would have stayed—”
“No. You couldn’t help. That was a task only the reaper and I could complete. And I needed you to keep an eye on the home front.” Perking up a bit, he said, “I learned earlier today that you missed your appointment with Zelda. Traffic was less predictable than expected?”
Glenda squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, her face was smoothed of worry and showed only mild curiosity. She’d learned long ago that to hide emotions in the voice, it was best to start with the face. “For shame, Bedivere. You know me better than that. Now you’re just teasing. It was the most masterful of setups, but only because the dear girl had already met a wonderful match. She simply needed a small but firm push in the right direction.”
“Her situation is improved, then?”
The strain of the last several days may have settled into the pit of her stomach, but the feeling would fade. And matchmaking two well-suited souls would go a long way toward helping. With true satisfaction reflected in her voice, Glenda said, “Much improved, as I suspect you’re already aware.”
“I may have had a small peek into her life. Glenda, I have to ask…” Poking, prodding gently, Bedivere said, “You didn’t inadvertently have anything to do with the reaping situation, did you?”
Deadly serious now, Glenda said, “No. I would never toy with the souls of the dead, even for love. You didn’t encounter any problems returning everyone to their appropriate realm or realms?”
“No, no more difficulties.” A soft sigh rippled the glass. “I’m sorry for asking, but, as you know, it’s been a trying few days and there are still many unanswered questions.”
“I assume the candidate had all of the right markers and the latent talent or he wouldn’t have been approved.” Glenda had at least a superficial understanding of the process involved in contracting a new reaper.
“We believed so, until we discovered the effects of his first day reaping and how terribly wrong it had gone for those souls. I’m arranging an immediate investigation. Until it’s completed, my friend must stay in the reaper position and continue to scout for possible re
placements.”
Glenda perked up at the mention of his “friend.” She knew Bedivere was fond of this most recent reaper—but friends? “He’s certain he has no desire to stay?”
“No. Something calls to him from the mortal world.”
“Ah. I’m sorry we’ll be losing him. Perhaps a little predictive magic can aid the search for a replacement.”
“If you feel so inclined, I certainly wouldn’t prevent you.” The glass lightened and brightened.
Glenda smiled. Silly man. He could have simply asked. Before the impulse faded, she quickly said, “I’m glad you’re safe.”
“Yes. And much as I appreciate your timely intervention… Next time don’t leave home to look for me. I’d like for you to stay safe. And you are your best self in the human realm, throwing your predictive magic around like an exuberant teenager, matchmaking, helping others. It suits you.”
Glenda had to agree: she was her best self in this world. And it was lovely when Bedivere noticed.
THE END
Forgotten Love
A Sweet Paranormal Romance
Prologue
The Offer
Eight years ago
Devlin tried not to linger on the pain. It would only get worse, and he wanted to look as healthy as possible for as long as he could. He was sick, and he’d been hiding the truth from his daughter—from his entire family—because he hadn’t known how to tell them. He hadn’t wanted to spoil what little time they had left.
Some days he felt he’d made the right choice in not telling the people he loved. Other days…he wasn’t so sure. But at least with his family, he was making choices. His illness hadn’t left him with many. The doctors had caught the cancer too late for surgery. And the alternatives they recommended didn’t guarantee him any more time, and they’d likely make him feel worse. So he did nothing.
Yes, there was choice in deciding not to pursue those treatments—but it hardly felt like one. And it was a choice that made him feel like a failure. He hadn’t fought, so he’d failed. That was the culture he lived in: fight, even if the fight killed you faster.