Awakening (Lily Dale #1)(27)

Though she’s still not sure about being in Lily Dale, Calla finds herself pleased when her grandmother says “our,” as though she’s genuinely part of the household.

“Evangeline’s been away at camp for a week,” Odelia says. “How was it?”

“Boring. As usual. But my brother liked it, so that was good. How do you like Lily Dale so far?” Evangeline asks Calla.

“It’s nice.” Not that she’s seen much of it. The weather has been lousy and her grandmother has had back-to-back appointments every morning, afternoon, and evening. She’s been encouraging Calla to venture out and explore on her own, but she hasn’t felt like it.

All right . . . maybe she’s still a little spooked.

Mostly, she’s been moping around, brooding about her mother and the school year that lies ahead, reading her way through Odelia’s stacks of novels or writing letters to Lisa. Real letters, not e-mail. Not that she has much to write about. Funny how it’s a lot easier to write an e-mail about nothing than a real letter about nothing. E-mail is less permanent, so what you’re saying doesn’t seem to matter as much. It’s all about the connection.

Never in her life has Calla felt so . . . disconnected.

“Game over.” Odelia sets the dice aside and checks her watch.

“Don’t quit on my account,” Evangeline says. “I don’t mind hanging out, watching.”

“I know, but that’s okay. We’re done. I’ve got a client coming in ten minutes.”

“Don’t you want to at least finish your turn?” Calla asks her grandmother.

“No, thanks. I was going to roll a three. That wouldn’t have helped me.”

“She’s hard to beat at Trivial Pursuit,” Evangeline comments, peering over the board. “But, wow, look at you! Four pieces of pie. You gave her a run for her money, didn’t you?”

“I know a lot of trivia,” Calla explains lamely.

She doesn’t miss the questioning glance Evangeline shoots at her grandmother, nor Odelia’s shrug in response.

Calla finds herself jealous of their bond, and disturbed by the unspoken communication between them. Evangeline was clearly wondering whether Calla, too, is psychic.

Odelia obviously isn’t sure. But why not? What would make her think Calla might be?

She doesn’t know about the apparition Calla saw in her mother’s room that first night, or about the premonitions she’s had in the past.

Maybe I should tell her, Calla thinks, not for the first time. Or maybe I should just forget about all of it, or I’ll start acting as crazy as Odelia.

She opts for the latter. At least for now.

“Evangeline, how about if you show Calla around this afternoon?” Odelia suggests briskly. “The rain is letting up, finally.”

“Sure. Do you want to look around, Calla?”

There’s nothing to do but smile at Evangeline and say politely, “Sure.”

Well, it’s either that or announce that she has no interest in sightseeing in this spooky little town, which isn’t exactly the case, anyway. She’s curious about Lily Dale, she’ll admit that. Because her mom grew up here, and because . . . well, she can’t help but be intrigued by the idea of a town filled with psychic mediums.

For some reason, though, she hasn’t wanted to ask her grandmother much about it. Maybe because she’s afraid of what she’ll say. Or ask in return.

“So, what do you think about Lily Dale?” Evangeline asks as she and Calla stroll away from Odelia’s beneath a gloomy sky.

“I haven’t even seen it. We’ve been inside the house since I got here the other day.”

“Well, this is Melrose Park.” They’re crossing a grassy, tree-shaded green, heading away from the murky waters of the lake. There are people strolling here and there. Most of them seem to be women of all ages, usually in pairs or groups. Some are clutching pamphlets and stopping to consult them, as if they’re looking for something.

“I’ll show you where the Assembly office is first,” Evangeline decides.

“What’s the Assembly?”

“The Lily Dale Assembly. For spiritualism. Hang on a second, I’ve got to tie my shoe.” Evangeline stops and stoops over her purple sneaker.

Calla seizes the opportunity to look around at the quaint, close-set nineteenth-century gingerbread cottages. They’re architecturally similar to Odelia’s, some well kept, others rundown. Most have equally chaotic flower beds, and never in her life has she seen so many outdoor ornaments. Wind chimes, birdbaths and birdhouses, flags and banners, garden gnomes . . .

She’s about to comment about that to Evangeline when something else catches her eye.

Signs. They’re old-fashioned shingles, really, just like the one that hangs from Odelia’s porch. And they’re nearly as abundant as the wind chimes, which, in a sudden gust off the lake, are tinkling to life.

PATSY METCALF, REGISTERED MEDIUM& SPIRITUAL CONSULTANT

REV. DORIS HENDERSON, CLAIRVOYANT

ANDY BRIGHTON, PSYCHIC MEDIUM

One house even has a pair of shingles, hanging one above the other:

WALTER DARWIN, REGISTERED MEDIUM

PETER CLIFFORD, HEALER

Wow. The whole place really is crawling with . . . freaks.