Connecting (Lily Dale #3)(20)

“Do you?”

No. She doesn’t. And she doesn’t know why she’s making this so difficult. She just can’t seem to help herself.

“I told you—I don’t know what I want, Dad!”

She sees her father and Odelia exchange a glance.

Then Odelia says, “You know what? I made a devil’s food cake for dessert, and I think it would be really nice if we invited Evangeline over to have some with us. Maybe we can all play cards or something.”

“That’s a great idea!” Dad exclaims. “And we can invite Ramona, too . . . if she’s around.”

“I’m sure she’s around.” Odelia looks pleased. “What do you think, Calla?”

“Sure, why not.”

Later, sitting around the table playing Ten Penny with the Taggarts, including Mason, and her father and grandmother, Calla finds it impossible to stay bummed out about anything. It’s almost like a party. And Dad still has yet to catch on that her grandmother and Ramona are both mediums.

At one point, Calla sees Miriam drift amiably into the room as if to investigate the source of the rowdy laughter. Clearly, both her grandmother and Ramona have spotted her as well. Calla sees their raised eyebrows and can almost hear the unspoken conversation between them.

Odelia is telling Ramona not to acknowledge anything in front of Dad, and Ramona is assuring her that of course she won’t.

“I don’t know when I’ve laughed so much,” Ramona declares at the end of the night when they’re saying their good-byes. “Jeff, it really is too bad you live so far away. We could all do this more often.”

“That would be great,” Dad says, so fervently that Calla looks at him in surprise.

Remembering that he told her he was having a hard time adjusting to life on the West Coast, she finds herself wondering if he’s even planning to stick it out.

When the Taggarts are gone and Odelia has disappeared upstairs, she finds herself alone with her father in front of the television.

“Nothing on but the news,” Dad says, channel surfing. “And there’s never anything good about that. I suppose we could just turn in, but I’m still on LA time.”

“I’m not that tired yet, either.” Calla hesitates, then asks, “Dad, is there any chance you’re not going to stay in California for the rest of the school year?”

Of course I’m going to stay there.

That’s what he’s supposed to say, anyway.

But what he really says is, “I’m lost there, Calla.”

“You mean, you’re lonely?”

He nods. “It’s just not what it was supposed to be. I keep wondering what I’m doing there—probably the same way you feel here.”

“That’s how I used to feel, but not anymore. Now I like it.

It feels like home, almost.”

“Yeah . . . I can see that. I wonder if it would feel like that for me, too.”

“You mean . . . are you thinking of coming here?”

“I don’t know what I’m thinking. It’s just . . . there’s more for me here than there is in California . . . or in Florida, for that matter.”

She’s silent, digesting that.

Maybe he’s right.

And maybe part of the reason is that he’s interested in Ramona.

She didn’t miss the little glances and smiles the two of them exchanged all night. There’s no question that there’s some kind of connection between them.

“What do you think I should do?” her father asks.

“Me?” She’s definitely not used to him asking her advice. He’s the parent. Shouldn’t he know what to do? “I . . . I’m not sure, Dad.”

She doesn’t even know what she should do.

For a moment, she considers spilling the whole story to him—about the dream, and Darrin, and everything else connected to Mom’s death.

But that would mean admitting too much.

And it’s not like her father’s going to give her the green light to go off and investigate on her own.

More likely, he’ll tell her to start packing her bags.

It always comes down to that.

You’re completely on your own, Calla tells herself grimly. It’s up to you to either find out what happened or put it to rest and move on.

You just have to decide which it’s going to be.





SEVEN

Monday, September 24

3:09 p.m.

“Jacy!” Dumping her math notebook into her backpack, Calla hurries to catch up with him as he strides out of the classroom after the last bell. “Wait up!”

Jacy doesn’t stop walking, and he doesn’t look back, but he does slow down enough to let her fall into step beside him.

“What’s up?” he asks tersely.

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all, she concludes, fumbling with the zipper on her backpack, then slinging it over one shoulder.

Bold confrontation’s never been her style.

But then, it’s not like she and Jacy aren’t friends, right? If nothing else.

And friends talk to each other.

Which Jacy hasn’t done at all today. Or last week, either, for that matter.

She’s been trying to convince herself that it might be her imagination that he’s been standoffish. But the other day, he was less than friendly in the cafeteria, and today, when she was really paying close attention, she couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t talk to her or sit near her or even glance in her direction.