by Unknown
Quickly I scrambled to my knees. “You’re making this worse, Rachel. Elena died in self-defense. All you have to do is explain that to the police.”
“As if it’s that simple.”
I shook so hard I could barely stand. Then I realized it wasn’t just me shaking. It was the ground. The Providence commuter train was coming. I slowly stood, kicking off my heels.
She waved the shears at me. I lunged to my right. If I could just get to my car . . .
Jumping back and forth, she cut me off at every turn as if she were a fencer and the shears her foil. My arm burned where the shears pierced my jacket and sliced into my arm.
I backed away from her, looking for another way out.
She darted forward, and I spun away from her and took off running. I broke through the hedges at the back of the yard and scrambled up the hill toward the train tracks.
Rachel followed, panting as if she were hyperventilating. “I’m not going to let you ruin my life!”
She made guttural noises, a mix between a cry and a yell. I’d almost made it to the top of the incline when she stabbed my leg.
Crying out in pain, I heaved myself to the top of the incline, stood up, trying not to put weight on my left side. Blood seeped from the wound. Heat seared my calf.
Taking a deep breath, I hopped across the tracks, barely able to make it across. I fell down on the other side, too weak to stand.
Rachel finally made it up the hill, her trousers torn, blood covering her scratched hands. Bloodshot eyes wide with crazed fear sought me out.
The ground shook; the whistle on the train blew; brakes squealed.
The pain in my leg brought tears to my eyes. I tried to stand—I had to run. To get away. I dragged myself an inch, two. Stars shone behind my eyes.
Rachel’s teary eyes narrowed on me. She took a step forward.
“You are not Elena!” I shouted. “You don’t want to do this! You’re better than this, Rachel!”
Sobs wracked her body. The train was 200 feet away, 150, 100.
Sparks flew from the rails; the whistle split the air. I covered my ears.
My thoughts swam, fog clouding my thoughts. My head swayed, the dizziness spinning my surroundings. Blood puddled under my leg. I struggled against giving in to the darkness creeping at the edges of my vision, against giving in to unconsciousness.
50 feet, 40, 30.
The world around me twirled and whirled. “Rachel!”
She bent double, a primal scream piercing the thundering noise, her gaze locked on mine.
20. 10.
“You’re not Elena!” I shouted.
“No! I’m worse!” she cried as she dove forward.
The thick fog took over my thoughts, and I finally gave in to the blackness.
TWENTY-FIVE
I woke to arguing.
My father’s voice, the one he saved for my most egregious errors, was being used on someone else.
I opened one eye, two.
A nurse backed away from the King of Love himself, saying, “This one time we’ll make an exception. You have half an hour; then you all have to leave.”
She hurried from the room.
All?
I looked around. Standing in a football-type huddle around my bed were my mother, my father, Dovie, Raphael, Marisol, and Em.
“Hello there,” said a voice in my ear. A voice that set my heart thrumming happily.
I turned and smiled at Sean, who was leaning over my pillow. “Hi,” I rasped.
My mother shoved him out of the way. Sunburn pinkened her already rosy nose, cheeks. “LucyD! My God what a scare you gave us!” She peppered my face with kisses, lovingly tucking my hair behind my ears, holding my head against her ample chest.
My father edged her out of the way. He kissed my forehead, then thumped his sternum. “Just about gave me another heart attack. Let’s not let that happen again. Understand?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
Raphael held my hand. Tears clouded his dark eyes. “Uva.”
“I’m okay, Pasa,” I whispered. “Really.”
Oddly, I felt a little like Dorothy after she returned from Oz, though this hospital room was a far cry from no-place-like-home.
I lifted my arm, felt the ache in it and my leg. My whole body felt leaden, weighted to the bed. It took a lot of effort just to turn my head.
“War wounds,” Em said. “You lost a lot of blood, and the doctors had to operate to fix the damage to your leg. With a little physical therapy, there won’t be any permanent damage. In fact, you can probably head home tomorrow.”
“Where am I?” I asked.
“Tufts Medical Center,” Marisol answered. “Your father demanded you be airlifted here from Rhode Island Hospital.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“You’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness for about eight hours.”
My heart clutched. “Rachel?” I asked.
“Rachel?” Sean said. Worried eyes took me in.
Obviously they all thought it had been Elena who died. I explained best I could, though my head was foggy. “What happened to her?”
Finally, Sean said, “The train . . . She jumped in front of it.”
I closed my eyes. Raphael’s hand squeezed mine, comforting me like he’d done all my life.
“I’m tired,” I said, forcing my eyes open.
“That’s probably our cue to go. We just wanted to be here when you woke up,” Em said. She and Marisol gave me long hugs and kisses. “We’ll be back tomorrow morning, first thing.”
Dovie gave me a kiss, too. “I’ll take care of the critters while you’re here.”
“Thanks, Dovie. I love you, you know.”
“Enough of that sentimental crap,” she said, her eyes welling. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest.”
“I’ll take her home,” Raphael said as he looked down at me, his eyes still moist. He leaned down and hugged me, whispering, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You won’t have to find out.”
He kissed my forehead.
Before he left, there was something I really wanted to know. “So, you and Maggie?”
At first he looked shocked that I knew, but he recovered well. “We’re . . . friends, Uva.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re going to be just fine.”
Sean and my mother were talking in low tones near the door. My father perched on the side of my bed. He caressed my arm. “I’ll expect you’ll be back at work soon enough.”
“Work?”
“Of course. You have clients. And I’ve been thinking.”
“But I can’t—”
“Don’t argue, Lucy Juliet. You cannot see auras, but you most certainly can make matches.” He reached over and grabbed a card from a nearby bouquet. The table next to my bed was filled with flowers. Thankfully they were roses, not mums. “Lola Fellows and Adam Atkinson wish you well and thank you for getting them together. That was all you.”
“Not really. I just matched your swatches.”
“I’ve dreaded finding a match for Lola. No one was bound to be good enough. I’ve dealt with types like her before, rather unsuccessfully. Like I said, that one was yours, one hundred percent. I don’t know what you said to her that changed her ways, but you most certainly earned that match.”
Suddenly I puffed with pride. “I will take credit for Raphael and Maggie.”
“Oh no!” my father corrected. “That one is all mine.”
“How can you say that? They got together this week. Thanks to me, kind of.”
He laughed. “I suppose you may have played a role, but why do you think I leased the space to Maggie in the first place for a fraction of its worth? It was just a matter of time before she and Raphael realized what was meant to be.”
My mouth dropped open. Huhn.
“Truth is, Lucy, it’s obvious we make a good team. Have you enjoyed m
atchmaking?” he asked.
“More than I thought I would.”
“Good. I’ve been thinking about your idea, letting it simmer.”
“My idea?”
“This notion you have about reuniting lost loves. Sean told me all about it.”
I shook my head. “That was specifically for Michael Lafferty and Jennifer Thompson. And that hasn’t quite worked out the way I planned.”
“Give it time. The idea is valid. You could reunite first loves, lost loves, all kinds of loves.”
I could? Then I realized . . . I could. “But . . . the auras. They might not match.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll work with what we’re given. I’ve seen through my long career that a first love is quite powerful and can often work, despite not having similar auras. When necessary we can use your ability to find objects to help in the reunions. It will be your own branch of the company, Lost Loves,” he proclaimed.
Lost Loves. I liked the sound of it.
And loved the idea of being able to work with my father. Suddenly I didn’t feel like the black sheep of my matchmaking family.
“There are some kinks to work out,” he said, “and you’ll need help, of course. There is much investigative work with such a task.” He looked over at Sean, still talking with my mother. “I suspect young Mr. Donahue will be a willing partner. If that is agreeable to you.”
I looked into my father’s deep brown eyes. “What color is he?” I asked, curious.
“A rare one. Charcoal gray with the vaguest hint of a steely blue undertone. I’ve never seen its exact shade before.”
“Do you think that’s my color?”
“I don’t know, my love.”
I chewed on my lip. “He doesn’t know about you.”
“You may as well tell him if he is to work with us. That is, if you trust him.”
I looked over at Sean. He must have sensed me staring. He smiled with his eyes, without ever moving his lips. “I do,” I said. “Trust him.”
“Then we will all have a meeting at the end of the week. We will capitalize on this publicity surrounding you at the moment and launch the newest division of Valentine, Inc.”
“New division?” my mother said, coming up behind my father.
“I’ll discuss it with you later, Judie. Now I think we should leave and let Lucy get her rest.”
“Leave! I can’t leave her alone like this.”
My father looked into her eyes. “I do not believe she will be alone.”
My mother glanced between Sean and me, her cheeks coloring an even deeper shade of red beneath her sunburn. She gave me a big hug. “We’ll talk tomorrow, LucyD. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Come,” my father insisted.
“So bossy,” my mother said, tossing the edge of her shawl over her shoulder. She blew me a kiss before disappearing through the door. “It’s a wonder I stay with you, Oscar.” She laughed. “Oh, that’s right. I don’t!”
Sean stood next to the bed, running his fingers along the inside of my forearm. “What did your mother mean?”
“It’s a long story. One you need to hear. Just not right now.”
“Fair enough.”
The nurse came in, smiling when she saw me awake. She checked my vitals, chatting about my family before leaving again.
Sean sat at the edge of my bed. He took a deep breath.
“Thanks for coming here. I know how you feel about hospitals.”
“There’s no other place I’d rather be. I just wish I’d gone with you this afternoon.”
“Me, too. There was no way of knowing I was in danger.” Softly I laughed. “I actually thought Elena, I mean Rachel,” I shook my head—it was all so confusing—“was the one in danger.”
“I spoke to Melissa about an hour ago. I wanted to follow up on your suspicions.”
“And?”
“The big mystery is that she’s pregnant again. She’s been going to the doctor. She didn’t want to announce it until she was sure.”
“So it wasn’t her or Jennifer at my house yesterday.”
Sean smiled. “Melissa was there.”
“What?”
“She was trying to work up the nerve to ask you if you could tell if her baby was a boy or a girl. She desperately wants a girl.”
“I can’t—”
“I know. And apparently someone in the crowd told her the same thing. So she went home.”
I shook my head. What a crazy week it had been.
The nurse came back, checked my vitals once again. Before she left, she looked at Sean. “Will you be staying?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like a cot?”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said. I inched over, patted the bed beside me.
The nurse smiled, pulled the curtain, and closed the door on her way out.
Sean kicked off his shoes, climbed onto the mattress. He slipped his arm around me, folding me into his chest. I heard his heart beating, and I smiled.
“As scared as I was, I knew I’d be all right,” I said, yawning. My eyelids grew heavy.
“How?”
“Because of this. You and me, here in this bed. I saw it. I knew it had to happen. Maybe you’re the one,” I said, my words slurring. My eyes drifted closed.
“The one what?”
“The one to break Cupid’s Curse, of course.” I giggled. “Curse, course, that’s funny.”
“Curse?”
“The stupid curse,” I said, drifting off. “Charcoal gray, steely blue, me and you, one plus one is two. . . .”
His chest rumbled with laughter, and I felt safer than I ever had in my whole life.
As I fell asleep, I refused to think about Cupid’s Curse and its consequences. Just fill up my dance card, because I was dancing the dance, twirling and spinning to my heart’s content. And for once, I wouldn’t mind the dizziness.
Three days later I was at home, wrapped in a blanket, lying on the couch, Grendel and all his kitty weight stretched across my lap. Might be time to put him on a diet.
I’d had a lot of time to think about everything that had happened in the past week. And had talked it out with several law enforcement agencies. If I never saw a badge again, I’d be happy.
The police were still sorting out who was who, what was what. Their efforts to match dental records were futile, as both Rachel’s and Elena’s had mysteriously vanished from their dentist’s storage. As of right now, the police were awaiting DNA compatibility results on Rachel and Ruth Ann.
My gaze wandered to the stacks of letters on my coffee table. Piles and piles of requests asking for my help in finding all things lost, from loved ones (which broke my heart) to sunken treasure.
“She’s late,” Michael Lafferty said, pacing in front of my fireplace. “Are you sure she’s coming?”
Watching him made me dizzy. “No guarantees, remember?”
I’d received a surprise visitor in my hospital room. Jennifer Thompson. Once she learned Elena was dead, she felt it safe to come out of her self-imposed hiding. And much to my delight, she’d agreed to meet with Michael.
“I know,” he said, wiping his hands down his jeans. He’d forgiven me immediately for involving him in a police investigation once he learned Jennifer was willing to meet with him. “Just a conversation. Right.” He stopped pacing, looked at me. “I’ve missed her.”
I stroked Grendel’s fur. “I know.”
A knock sounded. Michael looked at me, at the door.
“Go ahead,” I said.
Slowly, he pulled it open. Jennifer Thompson stood on my porch, her dark hair swept into a ponytail, her eyes wide and curious.
Silently I watched as they stared at each other for a good long time. Finally, Jennifer rushed forward into Michael’s arms.
I swiped at the tears in my eyes. Maybe I was a sap.
An hour later, the pair had decided to go into Cohasset Village for a cup of coffee. By all app
earances, it looked as though they might be able to pick up the pieces. Maybe the Lost Loves division of Valentine, Inc., would have its first success story.
My phone rang. I’d recently gotten a new number and very few people had it. I checked the caller ID display and answered unhappily.
“I’m sorry to bother you again, Ms. Valentine.”
“Detective Chapman, I’ve already answered all your questions. Hasn’t this case been closed?”
He hesitated.
“Detective?”
“Actually, I’m calling about something else. . . .”
“What?”
“My ring. It went missing one day in my gym’s locker room. My wife still hasn’t forgiven me. Do you know the name of the pawnshop it’s at?”
Well, well, well.
Good thing for him I was in a forgiving mood. I told him the name of the shop I’d seen.
“Thanks, and uh, well, thanks.”
Shaking my head, I hung up, thinking back to the crazy week I’d had. It certainly had been life-altering.
My father had been by yesterday with a business plan for the new division of Valentine, Inc., and it was nice to see him happy.
He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot. But life wasn’t perfect, either.
I’d learned that the hard way.
The phone rang again. I was beginning to question my judgment on having it reconnected.
“Hello?” I said.
“Funny thing just happened,” Marisol said.
“What’s that?”
“Our director just announced that an anonymous fifty-thousand-dollar donation had come in. The animal hospital is going to stay open.”
“Imagine that.”
I peeked in on Odysseus, who was asleep under his water bottle, fluff stuck to his flyaway fur. Grendel paid him no attention. He rarely paid me any attention anymore, especially when Thoreau was around, which, happily, was often.
“Yeah, imagine that,” Marisol said, her voice thick. “Tell me again what you did with your reward money?”
There was a knock on the door. “I’ve got to go, Marisol, someone’s knocking.”
There was a sniffle, followed by a long pause. “Thank you, Lucy.”
“You’re welcome.”
Smiling, I dislodged a put-out Grendel and reached for my crutches. Taking a deep breath, I looked at the file sitting on the table, that of Jamie Gallagher. She’d been missing almost eight months. Her mother was coming over, and I was going to try to get a reading on earrings that had been given to Jamie for her birthday.