Awakening (Lily Dale #1)(45)

But what about me? What good is this gift if I can’t even use it to find Mom?

The next medium steps up quickly to take Debra’s place. As she begins questioning a section of audience members on the opposite side of the room, Calla begins to feel as though she’s being watched. Her breath catching in her throat, she turns her head slowly, expecting to see, once again, the shadowy figure of the woman who’s been haunting her.

Instead, she spots Jacy Bly. He’s leaning against the door frame, arms folded, and he doesn’t look away when she catches him looking at her. She does, though, feeling her face grow hot. She hasn’t run into him since the other day, when they went fishing together.

Then again, it’s not like she’s spent much time walking around Lily Dale. The weather has been crummy, and she’s pretty much been holed up in Odelia’s house.

Feeling a jab in her shoulder from behind, she turns to see that Evangeline is motioning with her head in the boy’s direction. “That’s him.”

“What? Who?” she whispers back, pretending to be clueless.

“That’s Jacy Bly,” Evangeline hisses. “Remember I told you about him?”

“Oh . . . right. We met,” she admits at last, and is relieved the moment it’s out.

“You did? When?”

“I ran into him at the lake the other day, and he, uh, showed me how to drop a fishing line.”

Evangeline looks a little dismayed, but she says only, “What did you think of him?”

“He’s so quiet. I don’t know . . . he was nice.”

“Yeah. He is nice.” Evangeline shrugs.

Does she think I’m interested in him? Maybe I should tell her I’m not. Only . . .

Calla slips another glance in his direction and finds him still watching her, as though they’re the only two people in the room.

Only maybe I am.

Unnerved, she shifts her attention back to the medium doing the reading—at least, she tries to. Every time she sneaks a look at the doorway, she expects Jacy to be gone, like an apparition that may or may not have been there in the first place. But he’s still there. And he keeps catching her looking.

I should stop, Calla thinks, but she can’t seem to help herself. Evangeline was right. There’s something magnetic about him.

Once, when she hastily shifts her attention away from Jacy, she finds herself looking unexpectedly at another familiar face. It’s Elaine Riggs, from Ohio. She doesn’t see Calla, though. She’s focused on the medium onstage, and she looks hopeful. Calla wonders where her daughter is tonight. Hopefully she’s not casing Odelia’s house again, especially with the door unlocked.

The next medium, a man named Walter, takes the stage. Calla remembers her conversation with Jacy and realizes he’s one of Jacy’s foster dads.

Watching him in action is fascinating. He’s even more accurate and specific than most of the other mediums were, and he delivers his messages with an air of gentle, sympathetic concern.

“I’m getting something for an Eileen . . . Ellen . . . something like that. It’s about a child, but . . . this isn’t her name. It’s the mother’s.”

Nobody says anything.

“I’m seeing a red Buckeyes shirt,” the medium goes on, and someone calls out immediately. Calla turns to see that Elaine Riggs is standing.

“I’m from Ohio. But my name is Elaine—not Eileen.”

The medium pauses, seeming to listen, then asks, “Do you have a daughter?”

A sob escapes the woman as she nods.

“I’ve got a male spirit here, and he’s telling me something about your daughter. He’s showing me a white paper shopping bag . . . the kind with handles. Like from a department store . . . do you know what this means?”

“I think so.” Elaine’s shoulders are shaking with emotion and tears are pouring down her cheeks. Why is she so upset?

Is her daughter really a thief? Calla wonders. A shoplifter or something? That would explain the shopping bag, she decides, pleased she’s getting the hang of how this works.

“Spirit is saying you’ve been upset about something involving your daughter. He wants you to know he’s with you . . . this is not your husband, though.”

“No, my ex-husband is alive.”

“I feel like this is an older man. It could be your father.”

“Yes. Daddy passed away last year.”

No wonder she’s so emotional. Calla would be a wreck if her mother popped up here without warning. I wish she would, though. . . . I so wish she would.

“He’s with you,” the medium assures the woman again. “He keeps saying that. He really wants to bring you comfort.” He pauses, his eyes closed tightly, like he’s meditating. “He’s showing me a rock.”

“A rock? What . . . what do you mean?”

“It’s just . . . a rock.” Walter frowns. “And there’s a house.”

“What kind of house?” Elaine asks, almost sounding panicky. “What does it look like?”

“No, it’s . . . not a real house. It’s a child’s drawing. One dimensional. Door in the middle, two windows, chimney with curly crayon smoke . . .”

“I don’t know what that means.”