Believing (Lily Dale #2)(57)

“As mediums, we place ourselves in a subjective state through meditation,” Patsy informs the class. “It’s like anything else. Just about anyone can do this, to some degree—though some are born with a particular talent and an inherent heightened sense of awareness.”

Calla remembers what Evangeline told her, that Calla herself was born with a caul.

She’d love to ask Patsy about that, but she’s too shy to raise her hand. Maybe later. Or some other time.

If you decide to come back.

“Our skills improve with practice,” Patsy goes on, “just like an athlete’s, or an artist’s, for example. We can learn to flex our psychic muscles in order to receive the energy that makes up thought vibrations, and to interpret it.”

She goes on to say that a body is simply a house for the soul to inhabit while on the earth plane. When the physical body dies, the brain dies with it. But not the mind. The mind is a part of the soul, and that is immortal.

Thinking of her mother, Calla is comforted by that . . . but only to a certain extent.

I really do believe you’re still alive, Mom, on some other plane. But I wish you were still on this one, with me.

All too soon, the class has drawn to an end.

“Next week, we’ll be doing a hands-on exercise called reading billets,” Patsy announces after the closing prayer. “It’s something spiritualists used to do in order to prove their abilities to skeptics. Calla, will you be with us again?”

“I’m . . . not sure. Maybe.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to join the class,” Patsy says so easily that Calla is seized by an impulse to pull her aside and ask her about the Grease dream and shadow ghosts and cauls, among other things.

But now isn’t the time. There’s already a mini-lineup of students clustered nearby, all waiting for their chance to talk to the instructor.

“Do you want to wait?” Evangeline asks as she and Calla pull on their jackets.

“No, that’s okay. Maybe I’ll come back next week.”

“You should. Talk to Odelia about it. I’m sure she’ll want you to do this, if you talk to her.”

“I know, it’s just . . . I’ve got so much going on today. Maybe later.”

“Oh—you’re going out with Blue tonight!” Evangeline remembers. As if that’s all Calla’s got on her mind. “Did you figure out what you’re going to wear yet?”

“Not yet. Want to come over and help me decide?”

“Definitely. I bet he asks you to homecoming tonight.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Calla tells her.





An odd sense of expectation has hung over Calla all afternoon.

She’s got an inexplicable, growing feeling something’s going to happen tonight.

She just wishes she could be certain it’s going to be something pleasant.

The vague, nagging anxiety seems to grow more and more pronounced as she puts on makeup, fixes her hair, and gets dressed up in a cute blue skirt and top she and Evangeline settled on earlier.

She keeps assuring herself that it’s just normal predate nerves, not some kind of warning about impending danger. After all, it’s not like Aiyana has popped up lately.

Still . . .

“Make sure you lock the door and take your key with you tonight,” Odelia says when she sticks her head into Calla’s room to say she’s leaving for her Saturday night circle.

Calla feels another twinge of uneasiness.

“Why are we locking the door all of a sudden, Gammy?”

Her grandmother just shrugs.

Did Odelia have some kind of premonition? Did Dylan?

And what about Jacy? He said when they were walking home from the Yateses’ that he’s worried about her.

Right . . . she almost forgot about that.

She sits on the edge of the bed and puts on a pair of gold earrings, feeling her grandmother’s eyes on her.

“You look beautiful,” Odelia says with approval as Gert purrs and rubs herself against Calla’s ankles.

“Thanks, Gammy.”

“I hope you have a good time. What time do you think you’ll be home?”

Mom would have told me exactly when to be home, and warned me not to be late, Calla thinks with a pang of grief-tainted irony.

“I’m not sure. Late, I guess. He said we’d get something to eat after the concert.”

“I probably won’t be back until after midnight myself. Just be careful.”

“I will.” Calla smiles at her grandmother, wishing she didn’t look so . . . worried.

Maybe it’s because Calla’s driving all the way to Buffalo with Blue in his fancy BMW. Or maybe because she doesn’t approve of Blue’s father’s high-profile lifestyle.

Yeah, or maybe she thinks a raccoon-eyed killer is going to come after me.

Left alone with the kitten in the empty house, Calla realizes she still has fifteen minutes before Blue picks her up. She spends a few minutes pacing around, jumping at every slight creak, before realizing this is silly. She should just wait outside.

“Sorry,” she tells Gert as she steps out onto the porch, using her foot to gently keep the kitten inside as she pulls the door shut. She locks it, then turns the handle to try it.