At first my mind was too busy to allow me to summon the vision a second time. I kept wondering about Booker and what he was … and Galen and how he would react when I saw him … and May and why she wouldn’t answer questions. My brain was a mess.
I was determined to make it happen, though, so I focused. Galen believed I could figure out everything that was happening on my own. I was hopeful he was right because otherwise … well, otherwise I had no idea what to do.
I concentrated on my breathing to the exclusion of everything else, shutting out the noises that surrounded me and focused on inhaling and exhaling.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Before I even realized what was happening I slipped into the vision and allowed it to take over. It was loud, ugly and emotionally brutal … and yet I sat through it all the same. I heard the voices as they swirled, saw the faces, but I was a passive participant rather than an active member of the family.
“You’re late,” Barbie spat, leaning against the counter as she looked Ashley up and down. It wasn’t the same Ashley I’d met a few days before, but rather a younger model. Given the length of her skirt, I figured she had to be in high school … and probably very popular with the boys. “How many times have I told you not to be late when I have things scheduled with the girls?”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why you care what I do … whether you’re hanging with your drunken friends or not. I don’t need you here when I get home. Just … go.” Ashley made impatient shooing motions with her hands. “Seriously, go away.”
Barbie grabbed a glass of wine from the counter. “Maybe I simply enjoy spending time with you. Did you ever consider that?”
“No.”
“That’s good because I never enjoy spending time with you,” Barbie spat, causing me to inadvertently cringe. I couldn’t imagine a more hateful woman. She had no redeeming qualities as far as I could tell. “Why are you so late?” she demanded, clearly opting to change the subject rather than continue the fight. “Did you have detention again?”
Ashley shot her mother a withering look. “I haven’t had detention since eighth grade and you know it. That was years ago and one freaking time.”
“Then where were you?”
“I was at the coffee shop on Main Street.” Ashley averted her eyes and focused on the leather backpack she carried. It was much trendier than anything I owned at the same age. That was probably her mother’s doing. Barbie would want Ashley to dress a certain way even if she was a terrible mother because Barbie obviously believed Ashley’s appearance reflected on her.
“What were you doing at the coffee shop?”
“Um … drinking coffee.”
Barbie narrowed her green eyes. She wasn’t nearly as Botoxed then as she was now. She looked far more natural … and evil … in the past. It made me shudder.
“And who were you drinking coffee with?” Barbie challenged. “Was it a boy? Wait … do you have a crush on a boy?”
“Oh, I hate it when you pretend to care about my life,” Ashley complained, adopting a whining tone that set my teeth on edge. “Why can’t you crawl in your bottle like you usually do and ignore me?”
“Because that’s what you want and I don’t care to make you happy,” Barbie drawled. “Now … talk. Who were you with at the coffee shop? Don’t tell me it was that Carpenter boy. He’s not going to amount to anything and his family has no money to leave him. He’s not a suitable match.”
“I wasn’t with him.” Ashley was mortified. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re being evasive.”
“I am not.”
“You are so.”
“I am not.”
“Then who were you with?” Barbie clearly scented blood in the water and started circling. “If you were really minding your own business and not doing anything to be ashamed about you would’ve already told me to shut me up. Now I know you’re lying.”
“I’m not lying!” Ashley’s nostrils flared. “I wasn’t with a boy. You don’t need to get all worked up for nothing because whatever you’re thinking … well, didn’t happen.”
“Fine.” Barbie held up her hands, the one gripping the wine glass splashing a little on the floor.. “Tell me who you were with and I’ll leave it alone. I’m due to head off anyway.”
Ashley blinked several times before answering. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“But … .” Ashley heaved out a sigh. “Fine. I was with Trish Doyle, if you must know.”
Barbie’s expression twisted into something hateful. “Oh, geez! Please tell me you’re not entertaining the idea of becoming a lesbian. That is not going to happen on my watch, so you shove that thought out of your head right now.”
“I’m not a lesbian,” Ashley fired back. “Why do you always go there? It’s so … stupid. It’s possible to be friends with a woman and not be a lesbian.”
“I know that. I have friends and I’m not even close to being a lesbian.”
“You have horrible women you like to gossip and drink with,” Ashley corrected. “You don’t have friends.”
“And Trish Doyle is not your friend,” Barbie fired back. “You only started hanging around with her to irritate your father – something I happily supported at the time – but now it’s getting ridiculous. She’s low class and beneath you.”
Ashley glowered at her mother. “She’s funny and I like her. I don’t care what you say. We’re friends.”
“You’re not friends.”
“We are!” Ashley slapped her hands on the counter. “We’re friends and I like her. I don’t, however, like you.”
“Oh, well, that feeling is mutual,” Barbie drawled. “There are a lot of things I wish I could take back in this life, but having you is the biggest.”
Ashley snorted and turned on her heel. “Have another drink, mother. I don’t think you’re sloshed enough and it’s almost five. You’re behind schedule.”
She breezed through the kitchen door, barely acknowledging her father as he walked into the room. Henry Conner merely raised an eyebrow when he saw his only child storming out of the room. He loosened his tie and regarded his wife with a cynical look.
“You look more sober than usual.”
“Oh, your wit astounds me, Henry,” Barbie supplied, rolling her eyes. “I think you missed your calling. You should’ve been a comedian.”
“And give up all this?” Henry made a face as he shuffled to the small bar cart and searched through the contents until he came up with a bottle of whiskey. “I thought you had plans tonight.”
“I’m leaving in a few minutes.” Barbie sobered. “We have to talk about Ashley before I go.”
“Why? She seemed perfectly normal to me. She’s clearly angry with you and will spend the night pouting in her room. What’s different about that?”
“She’s spending too much time with the Doyle girl.” Barbie lowered her voice. “You know that’s not a good idea.”
Henry poured two fingers of whiskey into a tumbler. “I know it’s not a good idea, but there’s no talking her out of it. What do you want me to do?”
“Forbid her from hanging out with Trish Doyle.”
“And when that has the opposite effect and she only spends more time with Trish, what do you want me to do then?” Henry challenged. “She’s a teenager, Barbie. She’s going to do whatever it is that she thinks will irritate us most. That’s how teenagers are wired.”
“Then you’ve got to give her something to make her not want to spend time with Trish,” Barbie shot back. “Raise her allowance … or buy her a new car. Bribe her until she doesn’t want to spend time with that girl.”
“I’m not going to bribe our daughter.” Henry took a long swig of his whiskey. “She can’t be bought. She’s not you.”
“Everyone can be bought,” Barbie sneered. “Ashley is no different. She can’t keep hanging arou
nd that girl. It’s too dangerous. The truth might come out and then what? Where will we be if that happens?”
Henry didn’t immediately answer, instead shrugging as he finished off the whiskey. When he finally did speak, he sounded defeated. “Who knows? Maybe we’d all be better off if the truth came out.”
“You know that isn’t true.”
“I don’t know that.” Henry placed the empty glass in the sink. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
“And that’s why you’re a complete waste of space,” Barbie sneered. “Fine. If you won’t handle it, I will.”
Henry balked. “What are you going to do?”
“Don’t you worry about it. I’ve got everything under control.”
“HADLEY?”
A worried voice from the real world jolted me out of the vision. I was fairly certain that was all there was to see, but I wouldn’t have minded hanging around for another minute or two … if only to see if I might be able to smack Barbie Conner around a bit for being such a horrible person. Ah, well, it was too late now.
I shielded my eyes from the blinding sun as I focused on the figure moving closer. I wasn’t surprised when I realized it was Galen. I knew he’d find me. He always did.
“What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” Galen replied, worry flitting across his handsome features as he dropped down to sit next to me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” It was the truth. Kind of. “How did you know where I’d be?”
“Booker mentioned seeing you downtown. He said you looked … upset. I thought maybe you’d end up here so I gave it a shot.”
“Oh, well … .”
Galen gripped my hand, cutting off whatever I was about to say. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you take off earlier. I didn’t mean to get so wrapped up with Booker that I ignored you. That seriously is the last thing I wanted.”
He was so earnest my heart went out to him even though I remained mildly agitated. “I know. What’s your deal with him? Why do you guys hate each other so much?”
“We don’t hate each other. Did you not hear the part of the story about how Booker sought me out to tell me he ran into you?”
“I figured he did that to mess with you.”
“He did. He was also worried. He said you were pale and upset. Then he told me you talked to Barbie Conner, and I figured that was probably normal for anyone who spends time with that hateful woman.”
“Ha, ha.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “She’s not very nice.”
“If you’d waited for me I could’ve told you that.”
“I was mad at you at the time.”
“I figured.” He picked up my hand and flipped it over so he could trace his fingers over my palm. “You still should’ve waited for me. It’s hard to conduct an official interview when you don’t have authorization.”
“I thought you were my sidekick.”
Galen snorted. “Yes, well, you still should’ve waited for me. Barbie is a lush, so I’m not too worried about it. She probably won’t even remember you were there. Did she tell you anything?”
“Not much, but … .” I broke off and bit my bottom lip, unsure.
“What?” Galen was gentle as he prodded. “What happened?”
I told him about the vision, including the small exercise I conducted to explore further when I arrived at the cemetery. When I finished, he was impressed, which wasn’t the reaction I expected. “I thought you would be angry.”
“Why? Because you’re learning to control your powers?”
“Well, no,” I hedged. “More because I questioned Barbie without you being present. You haven’t yelled about that at all. Are you feeling okay?”
Galen barked out a laugh. “I’m feeling fine. I already said there’s no reason to be angry. Barbie won’t remember you were there. I doubt she has information to share anyway. She hasn’t even bothered to visit Ashley in jail.”
The news didn’t surprise me. “Ashley turned out a lot better than she should have given the lack of parental interest she was dealing with. Still, what do you make about the last part of the vision? The part about the secret?”
Galen shrugged. “I don’t know. There have been so many rumors about the Conners and Doyles over the years that it’s hard to fathom which rumor it could be. You said Ashley looked like a teenager in the vision, right?”
I nodded, searching my memory. “She said she was coming from having coffee with Trish. Barbie thought she had detention. She looked about sixteen or so.”
Galen thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. I need to give it some thought. Maybe I’ll put together a list of all the rumors I’ve heard about the two families and let you look it over.”
“That sounds like a good idea … and I’m not just saying that because I’m a busybody.”
Galen chuckled, smoothing my hair as he leaned forward and gave me a soft kiss. “Are we okay? I really am sorry about earlier. I won’t let it happen again.”
“We’re okay.” I meant it. “I wasn’t furious or anything. I was a little hurt. I was mostly worried that you and Booker would kill each other. You were getting a little intense.”
“We’ve always been that way. You don’t have to worry about it. We’ve only come to blows a handful of times. The last we were in our early twenties. We have maturity calming us now.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. “And you’re not going to tell me his big secret?”
“No.” Galen shook his head. “If Booker wants to tell you, it’s his secret to share. I can’t do that to him.”
“Even though you hate him?”
“I don’t hate him. I simply don’t like him a lot of the time. The thing is, with the big stuff, I trust him. Why do you think I called him the night you were attacked? I needed to know the job would get done … and done correctly. He was the first person on my list that night.
“Booker is more than one thing,” he continued. “Everyone on this island is more than one thing, and that includes you. If he wants you to know what he is, he’ll tell you.”
I couldn’t help being disappointed. “Fine. I guess I can live with that.”
“Good.”
“But I’m not happy about living with it,” I warned.
“I figured.” Galen slowly stood and extended his hand to help me to my feet. “I was thinking we would keep things quiet tonight. How does takeout sound? We can take it back to the lighthouse, eat, and then take a walk.”
“Does that mean you’re spending the night again?”
Galen shrugged. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No.” I meant it. “You have to watch your wandering hands, though. They’re starting to get a mind of their own.”
Galen snickered as he linked our fingers. “You’re making that up because you want me to be embarrassed. It won’t work.”
“We’ll see.”
“We will.”
I was quiet for a moment and then I opened my mouth, which is never a good sign. “My other boyfriend isn’t ashamed of his wandering hands.”
“Ugh. Why can’t you just let that ‘other boyfriend’ stuff go? It’s not funny.”
“When I find a bad joke to latch on to I always keep it way too long,” I explained. “It’s unattractive and annoying. You’ll get used to it.”
Galen chuckled. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“How does pizza sound?”
“Worse than Chinese.”
“At least you’re not afraid to form an opinion.”
“You never have to worry about that.”
“Good to know.”
20
Twenty
Galen was still holding firm regarding Booker’s secret as we shared cereal and coffee on the back patio the next morning.
“I’m not telling you.”
“Just give me a hint,” I pressed. “I’m sure I will be able to figure it out if you give me a
hint.”
“No.” Galen shook his head. “Ask Booker.”
“I already asked him.” I kicked back in my chair and folded my arms over my chest. “He won’t answer.”
“Did you really ask him or did you merely hint around and expect him to fill in the blanks out of the goodness of his heart?”
“Um … hmm.”
“That’s what I thought.” Galen finished his coffee and stood. “I need to run to my house and take a shower and change. I would suggest, if this is really bothering you, that tracking down Booker should be your first order of business.”
I arched an eyebrow, amused. “I thought you didn’t want me spending time with Booker.”
“I never said that.”
“You sort of implied it.”
“Only in your head. I have no problem with you hanging out with Booker as long as you don’t engage in any funny business.”
“Right. So, no dressing up as clowns? No tooting horns and putting on ridiculously large shoes. I think we can manage that.”
Galen scowled. “Your sense of humor is the oddest thing.”
“Wesley says I get it from him.”
“Now that is a frightening thought.” Galen leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. “I will call you later if I come across any tasks you can help me with. It will probably be after lunch.”
“I’ll be waiting.” I watched him move toward the side of the house, something occurring to me. “By the way, um, if you want to keep some clothes here – a razor and other stuff, too – you can do that.”
Galen’s face reflected amusement when he glanced back at me. “That’s progress, huh?”
“It’s just … there’s no need for you to have to run across town all the time when I have room in my bathroom.”
“Good to know.” Galen ran a hand over his stubbled chin. “While we’re talking about domestic things, if you wanted to run to the grocery store and stock up on things to eat – especially breakfast items – it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
Witch Out of Water Page 18