Believing (Lily Dale #2)(34)

Calla used to think, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she might follow him there someday. Not because of any burning academic ambition, though. More because she was crazy about Kevin and wanted to be near him.

Well, that’s clearly not an option now. She doesn’t know what she wants to do next year.

And there’s not a whole lot of time to figure it out.

“Dad, I’ve got a great study partner for math,” she says, “and the teacher is on top of it, too. And anyway, you know it wouldn’t be good for me to start yet another new school right away. That won’t look great on my college applications either.”

“You’re right.” He flashes a sad smile. “I guess I just wish I hadn’t agreed to this plan in the first place.”

“It was a good plan. And I’m in good hands here between school and Gammy.”

“I know. I just wish they were my hands. And Mom’s.”

She swallows hard, aching, closing her eyes.

After a moment, she feels his arms settling around her shoulders, holding her close. The hug is so comforting that she just sinks into it, glad he’s here.

Then she hears him speak and is startled to realize his voice isn’t as close by as it should be.

The arms release her just as she opens her eyes to see that her father is still a few feet away, and his hands are shoved into the pockets of his khakis.





TEN

“What . . . what did you say, Dad?” Calla asks, shaken, looking around, seeing no one.

Someone hugged her. Someone invisible. Because it couldn’t have been her father.

“I said, I’m selfish. I miss you.”

Calla nods vaguely, unable to speak, sensing the presence just beside her. A comforting presence. Not like Kaitlyn’s. Or even Aiyana’s.

Mom? Is that you?

She reaches out, half expecting to encounter something— someone—solid and finding only thin air.

Are you here? Oh, Mom . . . I need you so much.

Oblivious, her father sighs. “Listen, Cal, if you came back to California with me now, we could make it work.”

That jars her enough to find her voice, and she manages to say, “I really want to stay awhile longer. Like we said. Please?”

“I’ll think about it,” he says, and the subject is dropped.

Or so it seems.

They walk a few more steps, and her father suddenly says, “That’s bizarre.”

Calla looks up to see him frowning at the shingle on the next house down.

REV. DORIS HENDERSON,CLAIRVOYANT.

Here we go, she thinks, the lingering warmth of the phantom hug evaporating.

“What’s bizarre?” she asks her father, and holds her breath, waiting for a reply.

“Two New Age freaks living right next to each other in the middle of nowhere.”

She should have known the local trade couldn’t stay hidden for very long.

“New Age freaks? Geez, Dad.” She’s so irritated at his phrasing that she forgets, for a moment, about trying to distract him.

Then, remembering that her future here could very well be hanging in the balance, she looks around and points at a bird flying overhead. “Hey, wow, is that a bald eagle? Look! They’re not on the endangered list anymore, you know.”

Her father glances up. “That’s a sparrow.”

Then he says, reading off a shingle on the next house down, “Andy Brighton, Psychic Medium,” and Calla realizes it’s all over.

“Andy’s a friend of Gammy’s, Dad.”

“Really.” His tone says, that just figures.

“Yeah, and his cat just had kittens and we’re getting one— I mean, she’s getting one—in a few days. Isn’t that cool? I’ve always wanted a pet.”

“Mmm-hmm. So he’s a medium? What does that mean, exactly?”

“Oh, you know.”

“No,” her father says evenly, “I don’t.”

“He . . . helps people.”

“By doing what?”

“I don’t know.” That’s sort of the truth. “I mean, I’ve never seen him do it.”

Her father looks around, rubbing his chin.

Then he says, slowly, “Is it just me, or are an awful lot of people around here . . .”

“New Age freaks?” she can’t help but say when he trails off. She’s feeling prickly—and defensive—so she clamps her mouth shut before she really shoves her foot in and ruins everything.

“You said it, not me,” he tells her with a shrug, then admits, “this time, anyway.” He smiles faintly to show her he didn’t mean anything by it.

Deciding to forgive him, Calla says, “Yeah, there are a few mediums around here.” Okay, dozens, but who’s counting?

“That’s interesting.”

He really does seem intrigued. So much so that Calla suddenly decides to take the opposite tack, thinking maybe it’s better to enlighten than obscure the facts.

“Well, over a hundred years ago, Lily Dale was actually the birthplace of the spiritualist religion, you know, so . . .”

“So these mediums have been hanging around here for, what, a hundred years?” he asks with a grin.

She can’t help but smile back. “I guess so.”