Awakening (Lily Dale #1)(47)

“I’ll see you,” Jacy says, and slips away without another word or glance.

Odelia introduces her to Debra, the medium, and to another woman, and to a man named Andy Brighton, whose name Calla recognizes from one of the shingles in town. She carries on polite small talk with them, watching Jacy head for the door with Walter.

The two women leave but Odelia lingers, chatting with Andy about the Medium’s League meeting. They discuss it as if it’s a bridge club.

“Oh, before I forget, I know you wanted to get the kitten this week, but she’s still too young to be taken away from her mother.”

“That’s okay,” Odelia says. “I haven’t seen any mice . . . yet. But I’m sure they’re there.”

A chilling memory stirs back to life in Calla’s head. Who was the woman hovering outside the window that day? Should she have confessed the truth to Odelia, instead of making up that stupid story about having seen a mouse? Now her grandmother’s getting a cat because of it, she thinks guiltily—though she has to admit Odelia seems enthusiastic as Andy describes the adorable little bundle of fur she can bring home in a few weeks. By then, Calla will be gone anyway.

At last, Andy excuses himself and they’re free to leave. Darkness has fallen outside, but it hasn’t started raining again. As they head around the auditorium toward Cottage Row, Calla catches sight of the lake waters gleaming in the glow of a distant lamppost.

The only way we’ll learn the truth is to dredge the lake.

“Do you spend much time down there by the water?” she hears herself asking Odelia.

“No,” Odelia’s answer is prompt, and so resolute that Calla knows instantly that she didn’t imagine the conversation between her grandmother and her mother.

Their falling out had something to do with the lake. Dredging the lake, to be specific.

Why do you dredge a lake in the first place? Calla asks herself, and the answer sends a chill slithering down her spine. You dredge it to bring something—or someone—up from the bottom.

“Why not?” she persists, hoping to spur her grandmother into spilling whatever it is that she’s hiding. “If I were you, I’d hang out by the lake. It’s so pretty.”

“It’s dangerous,” Odelia says ominously, quickening her footsteps as much as she’s able.

“Why is it dangerous? It’s not like you have alligators up here like we do in Florida.”

“No, but the current is stronger than you’d think for a lake this size. It pulls people out and under even if they’re strong swimmers.”

Is that it? Did someone drown here? But what would that have to do with Calla’s mother? Why would she have been arguing so violently about it with Odelia that they never spoke again?

“Did my mom like to swim in the lake when she was a kid?” Calla asks.

Odelia’s answer is brief. “Sometimes. Listen, I don’t want you in the water here, okay?”

“But why not? I’m a good swimmer.”

“Just don’t go into that lake. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” Calla’s voice sounds almost meek in the wake of the inexplicable warning.

What on earth happened out there?

She gazes at the still water in the distance, wondering what secrets it might hold in its murky depths, and whether she’ll ever find out.





THIRTEEN

A few days later, Calla is putting away the Trivial Pursuit board in the living room when she hears a knock on the front door.

Glancing out the window, she sees a blue BMW parked at the curb. It’s a convertible and the top is down on this rare, gorgeous summer afternoon.

It occurs to her that this is the first upscale car she’s seen around Lily Dale, and it’s hard to imagine it parked in front of one of these worn little lakeside cottages. Must belong to a visitor hoping for a walk-in appointment with Odelia. Well, you’re out of luck, Calla thinks, heading into the foyer. Her grandmother just started a reading with a regular client, a widow who always books a double appointment.

But it isn’t a walk-in after all. Blue Slayton is standing on the porch.

Calla’s hand immediately goes to her hair, which is pulled back in a no-frills ponytail. She’s wearing cutoffs, a tank top, and flip-flops.

“Hey, how’ve you been?” Not waiting for an answer, he adds, “Want to go for a ride?”

Calla hesitates. “I’m not really dressed to go out.”

“You look good to me.” His eyes flick over her, and she’s suddenly conscious that her tank top is pretty skimpy. “Come on, it’s a gorgeous day. We can get ice cream.”

Ice cream is better than coffee, and it is a gorgeous day. It would be nice to ride around with Blue in the sunshine.

“Is that your car?” she asks him, gesturing at the convertible.

“No. It’s the maid’s.” He grins at her shocked expression. “Yeah, it’s mine. Come on.”

“Okay,” she decides impulsively. “Just let me leave a note for my grandmother.”

He’s already behind the wheel, engine running, when Calla gets to the car, but he jumps out and opens the door for her politely.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, slipping past him into the sun-warmed leather passenger’s seat. He’s so close she can smell the clean cotton scent of the blue T-shirt that exactly matches the shade of his eyes.