Connecting (Lily Dale #3)(37)

That would be great, and it would let her off the hook with Jacy.

“No premonitions. There’s just someone for everyone. Including Evangeline. And Jacy Bly isn’t her someone.”

Is he really mine? Calla wants to ask but doesn’t dare.

“The thing about Jacy,” Odelia says, “is that he’s been through hell and back. His parents—they really hurt him. He built up a lot of walls because of that. Likes to shut people out. Is afraid of losing even more than he already has.”

It’s just like Calla thought. He doesn’t want to let her in, doesn’t want to care about her—or anyone.

“Walt and Peter have made a lot of progress with him, but . . . some kinds of hurt take a long, long time to heal. And some don’t ever heal,” Odelia adds sadly, shaking her head and thinking, Calla suspects, not just of Jacy.

“You go easy on him, and you’ll see. He’ll come around.”

“Gammy . . . it’s just a dance.”

No. It’s not even that.

“I’m so happy for you, Calla. What I wouldn’t give to be your age again, going to a dance with a boy I’m crazy about.”

Great. Calla can only hope her grandmother never finds out she and Jacy never made it to the dance.

Evangeline will notice, that’s for sure.

I’ll have to figure out something to tell her, Calla promises herself.

For now, she can’t think past tonight, and getting to Geneseo with Jacy.




“Well? What do you think?”

Calla looks up from the gossipy pages of the Us magazine she’s been trying, with little success, to read for the last forty-five minutes. Mostly, she’s just been staring out the plate-glass window of the Hair Wharf salon at the dark gray waters of Lake Erie off the Dunkirk Pier.

Standing in the doorway of the salon waiting room, Evangeline does a mock-modeling spin, turning this way and that to show off a face full of makeup and her new hairdo, an elaborate mass of curls falling from a black satin headband.

“Wow . . . you look gorgeous!” Calla exclaims sincerely.

“Thanks. What do you think, Aunt Ramona?”

“Oh, honey . . .” Sitting beside Calla, Ramona is obviously emotional. “I think you’re growing up. And you’re beautiful.”

“That’s what I told her.” Leslie, the pretty, dark-haired young stylist, looks on proudly, a can of hairspray still in hand.

“You don’t think I look like a Disney princess?” Evangeline wrinkles her nose—the freckles oddly buffed away by a thick layer of foundation.

“Not in a bad way,” Calla assures her.

“Wait till that kid sees you. He isn’t going to know what hit him,” Ramona declares.

“Who? Russell?” Evangeline’s nose wrinkles even more. “I don’t want him to like me that way.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think you have a choice. He already does.”

Evangeline flashes a smile at Calla’s comment, though Calla can’t help but notice it isn’t quite as warm as in the past.

She hasn’t exactly been cold-shouldered by her friend today, but it’s been clear that Evangeline isn’t thrilled she’s going to the dance with Jacy.

She made no effort to mask her jealousy during their awkward walk home from Patsy’s class, and she asked a million questions, most of which Calla couldn’t—or wouldn’t— answer.

Evangeline wanted to know exactly how their date had come about. In detail. She wasn’t entirely satisfied with Calla’s explanation: that she had run into him at the soccer field, and after they both witnessed Blue’s accident, Jacy just naturally asked her if he could take her in Blue’s place.

“Jacy never goes to anything but track meets,” Evangeline pointed out. “I never see him at dances, or football games, or soccer. And believe me—I look for him. Everywhere. I guess I’m just surprised that he was around last night, and that he wants to go to homecoming tonight.”

Calla almost told her then that it wasn’t really going to happen, that they aren’t really going to the dance, but in the end, what difference would that make?

She’s still going to be with Jacy later, and it might be even worse if Evangeline realizes that something more compelling than a date for the dance is drawing the two of them together. Not even just the physical attraction, which Calla doesn’t dare acknowledge to her, but the mystery surrounding Darrin Yates.

She doesn’t want to tell Evangeline about that, either.

Better to just leave things the way they are, for now.

And later, after she doesn’t show up at the dance with Jacy . . .

I’ll just make up something else. Another lie.

“All right . . . it’s your turn.” Leslie gestures at Calla. “Ready?”

“Sure.” Trying to muster casual enthusiasm, she puts the magazine aside and follows Leslie to the next room.

There, Calla spots a filmy pair of women whose hair is set on big fat rollers, with a few loose tufts taped to their cheeks. They’re both wearing baby doll negligees and false eyelashes. On the far side of the room, a buff and fabulous—and nearly transparent—young male stylist snips an invisible patron’s hair.

Oblivious to the spirits, Leslie keeps up cheerful small talk as she washes and trims Calla’s hair. The weather, food, Hollywood gossip.