Connecting (Lily Dale #3)(69)

Evangeline will just have to deal.

Calla loathes the callousness of that thought, even if it is the only rational way to look at the situation.

And she loathes the thought of losing Jacy far more.





Tampa, Florida

7:30 p.m.

“Calla!”

She hears Lisa’s squeal long before she catches sight of her friend’s familiar honey-blond head in the sea of strangers— dead and alive—crowding the Tampa airport terminal.

“Lis’!” Enveloped in Lisa’s arms, Calla suddenly finds herself too choked up to speak.

“It’s so good to have you here. Here, gimme your bag.”

Calla nods mutely, allowing Lisa to take her carry-on.

“Come on, let’s go find the baggage claim.”

At last, Calla finds her voice. “Oh, we don’t have to. I didn’t check anything.”

“This is it?” Lisa eyes the small duffel dubiously. “For an entire weekend?”

“That’s it.” Calla smiles at her expression, knowing Lisa would probably have a full suitcase and a hanging garment bag.

“I guess we’re good to go, then. Come on.” She dials her cell phone as she leads the way toward the exit, past towering palm trees in planters against plate-glass windows revealing the coral-streaked sky at Florida dusk.

“I found her,” Lisa says into the phone. “Meet us next to the arrivals door.”

Calla smiles, eager to be reunited with Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, too. They, and their home, were such a huge part of her life here.

With that thought comes the memory of all the times she shared with Kevin, and the realization that she’s about to come face-to-face with him again, too.

She only hopes he didn’t bring his girlfriend, Annie, home with him this time. Jacy or no Jacy, Calla isn’t ready to see Kevin with his new love.

“You look great, Calla.” Lisa hangs up her phone and tucks it into the back pocket of skimpy white denim shorts that bare her tanned legs and polished toes in sandals.

Walking along next to her, Calla feels totally washed out.

“Come on, you’re just being nice.”

“No! I love your haircut.”

“Thanks, but . . .”

“And did you lose weight? You look even skinnier than usual.”

She shrugs, knowing she probably did. Her appetite has really taken a nosedive with all that’s been going on lately.

“I’ll have to fatten you up while you’re here,” Lisa says. “When was the last time you had, like, conch fritters? I bet they don’t have them up in Lily Dale, do they?”

“Are you kidding?” Calla realizes her mouth is watering at the thought of one of her favorite Florida treats. Conch fritters, gator bites, fresh Gulf seafood, key lime pie . . . Yum.

As they pass a sign for the Ron Jon Surf Shop at the Galleria, she can’t help but smile. Though she’s well aware of the main reason she’s back in Tampa, to unearth the truth about what happened to her mother, for the moment, all she can do is revel in familiarity.

Warm humidity envelops Calla the moment they step outside, and her ears tune in to the southern accents drawling all around her. She spots a lizard scampering along the rim of a large terra cotta planter filled with lush green fronds.

They pause at the curb, and Lisa searches among the headlights lining the roadway. Most of the cars are clean late models, the kind you rarely see around Lily Dale.

Wave after wave of nostalgia sweeps through Calla. This is—no, this was—home, all her life.

Suddenly, Lily Dale seems farther away than the faint yellow crescent moon rising against the tropical sky, and just as remote.

“There.” Lisa points, and Calla spots the Wilsons’ white Lexus pulling up. “Let’s go.”

The trunk pops remotely, and she tosses Calla’s bag inside. “Get in the front, I’ll sit in the back.”

Seeing only a tall, broad-shouldered driver silhouetted beyond the tinted glass, Calla realizes she’ll have to wait to see Mrs. Wilson until they get back to Lisa’s house.

She climbs into the front seat, prepared to greet Lisa’s father—but he’s not the one sitting behind the wheel.

It’s Kevin.

He’s not as tanned as usual and his shaggy blond hair is a shade darker than the last time she saw him. Instead of one of his surfer T-shirts he’s wearing a preppy looking navy polo, but in the open vee of his collar she can see the hemp and puka shell necklace she gave him back when they were dating.

“Hi,” he says simply, and smiles at her.

Like everything else here, he looks really good to her, and achingly familiar.

Lisa leans in from the backseat. “Kevin flew home this morning. He offered to come back to the airport with me to pick you up because my parents are at this charity thing tonight, and you know how I hate to drive on the highway.”

Lisa does not hate to drive on the highway. In fact, she likes to drive on the highway every chance she gets, and at breakneck speed.

But Calla doesn’t call her on it. She just stares out the windshield as Kevin navigates the airport service roads, then the highway.

“Did you eat dinner on the plane?” he asks as they drive past a strip mall with a bunch of chain restaurants.

“Yeah,” she lies. Actually, she slept on the plane, and it was a relief to get a break from all that’s been on her mind in her waking hours.