She pursed her lips and scrunched her face. “Your dad and I are needed in Laguna. Our manager out there, Sherry, is having her baby and her husband has just taken her to the hospital. She’s almost a month early. They have a full house at the ashram, so your dad and I have to go take care of things.”
Walking forward, she sat in the chair in front of her desk. “I want you to come with us. We have plenty of room in the Piper.” My dad had learned how to fly a couple of years ago, and my parents’ business had done so well they had their own plane. The craziness never stopped with these two. “I’m worried about you being here alone, and I can’t stand that the first time you’re home in two years we have to leave. And you’ve just been so sick.”
I waved her away. “You guys go. As you can see, I’m fine. In fact, Sam is coming over tomorrow to hang out, so you don’t have to worry. I’ll have my personal physician on hand.” She couldn’t see it but inside I was jumping up and down screaming, “Woo hoo! No Tofurky! And I won’t have to explain my atypical parents to hot guy Caleb.” “I’ll miss you guys, and thank you so much for taking care of me.” I meant the words. Her homeopathic recipes, though not terribly delectable, had helped me heal faster.
I hugged her. “I have to head home on Saturday for some meetings on Monday.” She started to argue, but I held up a hand. “Thanks to your great care, I’m feeling so much better. I’m going to leave my car here and fly back. I don’t think I’m up for the fifteen-hour drive yet. But I’ll come pick it up the first chance I get.”
She sniffled. “Now I feel really horrible about leaving you for Thanksgiving. We probably won’t see you again for a couple of years.”
Hello, mothers’ guilt. I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mom. I haven’t been around much, but you know I love you. And I promise I’ll try to come back to visit sometime around the end of the year.” Depends on the new job. “And I’ll definitely have to get my car, so don’t worry.”
Dad walked in. He thumped himself on the head. “Oh, kiddo, I knew I forgot to tell someone. You were gone when the call came in this afternoon. Can you get packed fast? We need to go.”
I grinned. “I’m not going, and don’t worry about it, Daddy. I’m fine. Mom will tell you my plans. You two go on. Enjoy some of that California sunshine for me.”
He hugged me and ruffled my hair like he did when I was a kid. “Everything okay in Atlanta? A package came for you today.”
I cleared my throat, caught off guard. I shrugged. “Just work stuff. One of the reasons I need to get back soon.”
I finally pushed them out the door an hour later, after receiving explicit instructions on how to lock the place up. Mr. Johnson would be responsible for the care of the vineyards and he’d check on the gardens. Mom and Dad would be back on Monday to usher in their new crew of Zen wannabes. So I pretty much had the place to myself.
I knew I should do some research on the Web about some of the companies the headhunter had mentioned, but I needed a break.
My dad’s love for yoga had rubbed off. I’d taken a few classes and was hooked. I remembered enough of the poses to go through most of them, even without my dad. After an hour of meditating and doing deep breathing exercises in my room, I took my last cleansing breath.
“It’s almost time.” I heard a voice in the corner of the room. My mind snapped into gear. I stood up, trying to see who was there. I thought I saw an arm and part of a leg. I blinked and the images were gone.
“She doesn’t know and I don’t think she’ll be ready,” a woman said.
I jumped up. “Who’s there?” The room had to be forty degrees and my teeth chattered. My hands shook and my voice trembled a little.
“Look. I know someone’s here. I’m not crazy.”
“Of course you aren’t.” It was a husky voice, slightly feminine, but deep.
I whipped around, but still couldn’t see anyone. “Where are you?”
“Right here in the corner. Sorry. I don’t think you can see us yet. That you can hear us is a very good sign. Some people don’t think you’re ready, but I know you are well on your way.”
“My way to what? Being psychotic? I’m talking to air.”
“Honey, don’t get so upset. Just because you can’t see someone doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”
“No! Go away. I’m not crazy!” My hands squeezed my head.
“Whatever you say, hon.” The voice faded away. I threw on my sweater and waved my hand across the access panel on the door.
I searched the house for the source of the voice. Some nasty person was playing tricks on me. By the time I made it to the kitchen I’d convinced myself I must have been dreaming. Maybe it was that third eye Dad’s always talking about. I found the controller for the heat, and it was set at sixty-eight.
Splaying my hands on the cold granite countertop, I took a deep breath. “Well, that sure as hell was weird.” I turned on the lights as I made my way back to my room. It was warm now. I checked my face in the bathroom mirror and cleaned up some mascara under my eyes with a tissue. I put on some lipstick and pulled my curls into a low ponytail.
“Much, much better.”
But I didn’t want to be there. Third eye or not, I was hearing strange things. I am not going crazy. I’d said that to myself so many times the last few days it was ridiculous. Feeling antsy, I grabbed my purse and keys.
Since it was the night before Thanksgiving, the town had rolled up the sidewalks even earlier than usual. The only light on in the square was Lulu’s. When I got out of the car the smell of smoked meats drifted my way. My stomach growled.
“Thank goodness for Ms. Johnnie and Ms. Helen,” I said aloud.
“I was thinking the same thing,” a man said behind me.
I jumped and turned around. Caleb’s handsome face smiled back at me. He was dressed in a cable-knit sweater under a dark jacket and he wore jeans and boots. My heart did a little happy dance at the sight of him.
“Hey.” Now there you go being profound, Kira.
“It’s good to see you.” He held out his hand and I shook it. His hand was so much larger than mine, and very warm. He didn’t let go. “I wanted to thank you for the invitation tomorrow.”
I pulled my hand back, reluctantly. “Oh, I’m glad to have the company, and since Ms. Johnnie and Ms. Helen are providing the meal, it should be delicious.”
“Are you headed in for dinner?”
I nodded.
“Those two do know how to cook. I highly recommend the special. Meatloaf with mashed potatoes, and cherry pie for dessert.”
I have to admit I was extremely disappointed that he’d already eaten. He’d be at the house tomorrow, but the company tonight would have been nice. “Thanks. That does sound good.”
We stared at each other for a few seconds, and I could feel a blush creeping up on my cheeks under his scrutiny. I gave a little wave. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow around two. Have a nice evening.”
He nodded and began to move away. “Um.” He stopped. “I could use another cup of coffee, and come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind another piece of that pie.”
I couldn’t keep from smiling. “You’re welcome to join me.”
Opening the door, he guided me in.
The smells when you walk into Lulu’s are always pleasing, but the day before a holiday they are almost overwhelming. Turkey, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie, all of it hits you head-on and it’s a traffic jam of homey smells.
My favorite place in the café is the back booth; I like watching as people come in and out. When I was a kid I’d observe Ms. Johnnie and Ms. Helen interacting with the locals. As wild as the two women were, they garnered a certain amount of respect.
“Have you lived in Sweet most of your life?” Caleb’s question pulled me out of my reverie. We’d sat down and I’d been staring at the menu for the last few minutes, lost in thought.
Hello, Kira? Hot guy sitting across from you. Maybe you should pay attention. “Yes, and no.
” I grinned. “We moved here from Laguna when I was about four. So yes, until I went away to college, this was home. I’ve been living in Atlanta the last few years.”
“Sweet seems like a great town to grow up in. Nice people and no crime from what I’ve seen.”
I shrugged. “It’s quiet, but I honestly couldn’t wait to get out of here.”
“Big city calling your name?” He put two sugars in his coffee and added some cream. I did the same.
“I just never felt like I fit in here.” Geez, bring out the violins. “I mean, well, my parents were, excuse me, are hippies. None of us are magic, and a lot of the people who live here are either witches or warlocks or different in some special way. But you’re right. It was certainly a safe place to grow up. As soon I had the chance, though, I was out the door.”
“Hippies? I thought that was back in the sixties.” He laughed.
I smiled too. “Yes, well. My parents tried to bring the lifestyle back in the eighties and haven’t noticed that it didn’t catch on. So where did you grow up?”
“All over the place. Born in San Antonio, but I’m an army brat. My dad was in special ops and we moved every two years. They’re still moving. In fact, they’re in Korea now.”
“Wow. That must have been cool and difficult at the same time, living in new places.” I dug into the meatloaf Ms. Johnnie had put on the table with a wink at me. She hadn’t even taken my order. She knew I loved her food; didn’t matter what it was. I’d noticed her and Ms. Helen peeking over at our table more than once.
“I’m pretty adaptable and I never minded much. My mom liked living wherever Dad worked, so we could see him when he wasn’t on assignment. Now I have friends all over the world, which is handy when I need a place to crash.”
I thought it odd that a carpenter had the funds to travel the world, but didn’t say it. I scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes. The girls had added sour cream, and the spuds were super creamy. “How did you end up here?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m looking after a friend’s sister. She bought a house here and I’ve been helping her fix it up.”
I wondered what he meant by the rolled eyes. “That’s nice of you. Um, do you not like the sister?”
He sputtered his coffee and laughed. Mopping his lip with his napkin, he cleared his throat. “She has her moments. Her name’s Bronwyn, have you met her?”
I shook my head. “No, but I haven’t seen much of anyone since I’ve been home. I’ve been kind of sick.”
He looked concerned. “Is it serious?”
This time it was my turn to laugh. “No. Just mono.”
“The kissing disease? Hmmm. And here I was thinking you weren’t that kind of girl.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How could you know what kind of girl I am?”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry.”
I laughed. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I caught mono from kissing. I’ve been working kind of hard the last few years and it all sort of caught up with me at once.” I sighed. “But I’m much better. Actually, I’m heading home on Saturday.”
He frowned. “Why so soon?”
Something in his eyes made me want to tell him everything. He cared what happened to me. I didn’t know why, but he did. “It’s work. Something’s come up and I have to be in town to take care of it.”
“That’s too bad. I was kind of hoping you’d be around awhile.”
I don’t know what made me do it, but I reached out and put my hand on his. It was warm and strong. I just wanted to touch him. “I’ll be back.” The words came out in a whisper and sounded much sexier than I intended.
He cocked his head. “Good.” He squeezed my fingers and lifted them to his mouth.
Every nerve in my body went on high alert. The warmth from his lips spread from my fingers all the way to my belly. I couldn’t keep from smiling. I looked down at the table and took a deep breath. “I…things are kind of…well, complicated.”
He stood and put some money on the table to pay for our meal. “Are you married?”
“No,” I said as he reached out a hand and pulled me up beside him.
“Then there are no complications we can’t handle,” he whispered in my ear. Then he kissed my cheek.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He squeezed my hand one last time and walked away.
I couldn’t move for a minute.
“I think that boy has a thing for you, girly.” Ms. Johnnie was to my left and I hadn’t even noticed.
God, I hope so. I most definitely had a thing for Caleb.
* * *
Cool Jobs For Which I Have No Qualifications
Opera singer
Oceanographer
Train conductor
Biophysicist
Architect
Astronaut
Librarian
Dance therapist
Museum curator
Gymnastics coach
Truck driver
Design magazine editor
Magician
Teacher
Artist
* * *
Chapter 6
For life be, after all, only a waitin’ for somethin’ else than what we’re doin’, and death be all that we can rightly depend on.
DRACULA
By Stoker, Bram, 1847–1912
Call #: F-STO
Description: vi, 326 p.; 21cm
I’m not sure what woke me at three a.m. I’d had a series of strange dreams. Funny, since I can’t remember having a dream since I left Sweet for college.
It’s unusual, but true. When I moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts, for school, I stopped dreaming. I was barely seventeen at the time. I think the pressure of trying to fit in and the hours of study kept me from any frivolous thinking. Or perhaps it was that I spent most of my waking hours in the Langdell Reading Room of the Harvard Law School Library, and by the time I made it back to my dorm all I could do was pass out from exhaustion.
For me dreaming was a luxury, and my first one back in Sweet had Caleb, dressed in a letterman’s jacket and jeans, asking me to go steady. I wore a pink poodle skirt that was very itchy on the inside. He kept asking, and giving me this strange look, but I couldn’t get my mouth to work. All I could think about was scratching.
The next dream was weirder. During a job interview I suddenly realized I didn’t have on any clothes. I kept trying to hide my boobs and other parts with a carefully placed Marc Jacobs tote.
Then the dream shifted to the truly bizarre. I looked down to find myself on the stepladder at the library. I tried to shelve books, but I couldn’t remember the alphabet. A fog had entered my brain and I could barely remember my name.
There were men and women standing all around me, whispering, but I didn’t understand what they were saying. Then I saw Mrs. Canard in the biography and nonfiction section. “It will be okay, dear, you’ll learn it all soon enough. I’ll be here for you when I can.”
Then I woke, sitting straight up in bed and gasping for air.
Sweat dripped down my face and I was twisted in the sheets.
My cell rang in my bag across the room, and I jumped out of bed to grab it, stumbling on the sheets as I went.
“Hello?” I said as I tried to catch my breath.
“Kira, it’s Sam.” He sounded sad.
I looked at the clock. It was exactly three a.m., and nothing good ever happened this time of morning. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mrs. Canard; she’s had a stroke.”
Making my way back across the room, I sat on the bed. My brain wasn’t fully functioning quite yet. “How bad is it?”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t think she has long. It hit the brain stem. She has a DNR, so there’s not a lot we can do.”
“DNR?” I knew what the letters meant, but I couldn’t believe it.
“Do not resuscitate. We’re having trouble finding her family. I know how close you two are and I thought maybe you’d want to come down
to the hospital.”
“Of course. I’ll be right there. And, um, she said something about the family being in Vancouver.”
A sinking sadness overwhelmed me and the tears fell the minute I clicked the off button. I wouldn’t let myself lose it. Mrs. Canard needed me. My hands shook as I threw on clothes and shoes. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, grabbed the keys, and took off.
Though it was only a ten-minute drive, it seemed to take forever. I pushed away tears the entire trip. She had believed in me and loved me at a time when I didn’t think anyone else did. My heart ached. She’s going to be okay. You just saw her. She’s going to be okay.
Outside the emergency room I dug around for some tissues in the console of the car. Finding one, I cleaned my face, got out, and then headed inside.
No one sat behind the admitting desk, and the waiting room was empty. “Is anyone here? Hello?”
“Just a minute, please, I’ll be right there,” I heard a woman say.
I didn’t have any patience. I wanted to get to Mrs. Canard as soon as possible. I pushed on the door separating the waiting room from the treatment area, but it was locked.
“Augh,” I huffed.
“I’m sorry, I was with a patient. Can I help you?” a soft female voice said from behind the desk.
I moved so I could see her. She seemed familiar and then it dawned on me. “Margie?”
She smiled. “Kira?”
Reaching across the desk, she hugged me, and I squeezed her in return. Margie had been my one real friend in high school. The other kids weren’t exactly mean to me; it was more like they ignored me. She always had my back and made me feel like I belonged. I tried to do the same for her, though I was painfully shy and could never come up with the sardonic remarks she managed.
“Are you okay?” She looked me up and down.
“What? Oh, yes. I’m here to see Mrs. Canard. Sam called.”
She pushed a button behind the desk. “You’re the friend.” She smiled again. “I guess I was expecting someone a little older. Sam said someone was on the way. Come on back. We’re getting ready to move her upstairs.”
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