Believing (Lily Dale #2)(55)

“Go,” Mr. Yates says again, more wearily. “Please. Just go.”

“But I—”

Calla’s protest is cut off by the door being closed in her face. Jaw hanging, she looks at Jacy.

“Come on,” he says quietly.

They walk in silence for a few blocks.

After they’ve turned the corner, away from the boulevard, Calla stops walking and looks at Jacy.

“I can’t just drop this.”

“No. I know.”

She wishes she could see his face, but it’s cast in shadows. “So what do I do now?”

“I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere with them. And there’s something . . .” Jacy shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m worried.”

“About them?”

“No. About . . . ,” he trails off.

“About me?” Calla asks, and he nods.

Immediately, her heart picks up a little. Out of fear, because of Dylan’s warning and now Jacy’s . . . and, maybe, just a little, because Jacy cares enough about her to worry about her.

“Why?” she asks, trying to sound far more casual than she feels.

“I don’t know. Just be careful, okay?”

“Okay.” She pauses. “I’m going to a class with Evangeline over the weekend. Beginning mediumship. I thought that might help.”

“That’s good. Really good.”

“Have you taken any classes?”

“No. Not because I don’t think they’re worth it, but just because . . . I don’t know. Classes aren’t my thing.”

Yeah. She can sense that, whenever she sees him in school. He always has a restless air about him. He’s much more relaxed when he’s outside. Like now.

They start walking again.

“Do you believe what they said?” she asks after a while. “That my mom’s the one who did something to make Darrin disappear? Because Ramona said he was on drugs. Maybe they didn’t know about that.”

“Maybe not.”

“Maybe I should tell them.”

“Their son is missing. Their hearts are broken. They aren’t going to be very open to some stranger who shows up and basically accuses him of being a druggie and a murderer.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I said that to them.” Calla sighs. “I know I got carried away. I just . . . I couldn’t help it.”

To her shock, Jacy reaches over and takes her hand. Giving it a squeeze, he says, “I know how brutal this has to be for you.”

She nods, not daring to speak . . . or even breathe.

He doesn’t drop her hand.

They walk on in silence.

Holding hands.

As overwhelmed as Calla is by everything else that’s happened, right here, right now, Jacy Bly is all she can think about.

Her hand feels so safe in his warm, protective grasp. She wishes there was a longer way home, but all too soon, they’ve reached Odelia’s house.

Jacy walks her up onto the front porch, and she wishes the stupid porch light weren’t on, because she has a feeling he wants to kiss her goodnight and she seriously doubts he’s going to do it in a spotlight.

Kiss you goodnight? What are you, crazy? He’s not going to— Or is he?

A glimmer in his black eyes makes her pulse race as, still holding her hand, he says, “Calla.”

Then she hears it.

The squeak of the Taggarts’ front door, a stone’s throw away.

Evangeline. No!

Calla wrenches her hand from Jacy’s just in time to see Mason Taggart step out onto the porch across the way. He doesn’t even glance in their direction as he retrieves something from a chair and goes back inside, banging the door behind him.

But it’s too late to reclaim the moment.

Hands shoved deep in his pockets, Jacy is already turning away. Sounding shy, or maybe hurt, he says, “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Jacy.”

“Yeah?”

Come back.

Please.

Kiss me goodnight.

But, of course, Calla doesn’t say any of those things.

She says only, “Thanks for going with me.”

“Yeah. No problem,” he replies, and is swallowed by the darkness.

Calla turns toward the door, then stops short.

There, on the clapboard wall beside it, are a pair of shadows.

Her own, and a disembodied one beside it.

It’s nearly identical in size, a clearly human form although the outline isn’t as sharply defined as Calla’s own silhouette.

She turns, knowing before she sees it that the spot beside her will be empty.

Someone is here beside her, though. Maybe that’s all she’s supposed to know. But is that enough? Can it ever be enough?

She watches the shadow until it fades away.

Then she goes into the house, alone once more.





SEVENTEEN

Saturday, September 15

10:10 a.m.

On Saturday morning, Calla is prepared to tell her grandmother she and Evangeline are going out for a walk. Luckily, Odelia is behind closed doors with a client when she comes downstairs for breakfast, so the cover story isn’t necessary. It wouldn’t have been believable on a day like this. A cold rain is falling as Calla steps out onto the porch.