Discovering (Lily Dale #4)(18)

“I have no idea what you’re doing. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Nothing.”He grins. “I’m doing absolutely nothing but relaxing. Enjoying the beautiful morning.”He waves a hand at the sun slanting down through the misty treetops, a rare sight around here. “And I get to see my daughter off to school. What do you think about that?”

“It’s . . . uh, great.”

“You know, Cal’, I don’t know what I was thinking. Why have I just spent the last few months alone, on the opposite end of the country from the one person I care about? It doesn’t make sense.”

Ramona. Is he talking about Ramona?

Is that what he’s trying to tell me?

Are he and Ramona in love?

Has he been having a secret affair with her since they met?

“I don’t know why I didn’t figure out until now that the two of us belong together, after all we’ve been through lately.”

Dad has been tragically widowed, but Ramona . . . her latest boyfriend dumped her for a Buffalo Jill. How does that compare? Clearly, he’s lost touch with reality.

“Dad, are you okay?”

“I will be now that I can start every day by saying good morning to my girl in person. . . .”

His girl?

Jealousy streaks through Calla.

Ramona is his girl now?

That’s what he always used to call . . .

Oh.

You idiot.

“That’s great, Dad,”she says with a relieved grin. “I’m glad you’re here, too.”

How could she even think he was talking about Ramona, when they barely know each other?

I’m his girl. I’m the one he belongs with after all we’ve been through.

Of course that’s what he meant.

Duh.

How could she have thought otherwise? Just because Dad and Ramona are staying under the same roof now . . .

The screen door squeaks next door and Calla looks up just in time to see Ramona step out onto the porch. Her long, curly brown hair is tousled and she’s carrying a coffee mug. And wearing a snug-fitting pair of pink pajamas that look awesome on her.

“Morning, Calla!”she calls, waving. Then she turns and says something to Dad that Calla can’t hear, and he laughs.

Hmm. They do look pretty cozy over there.

And Calla can try all she wants to ignore it, but her sixth sense is telling her that Folgers isn’t all that’s brewing next door.

“I’ve got to get to school,”she announces, and heads down the walk toward the street.

The little boy is now dangling from his knees on a branch high above her head, gleefully swinging back and forth.

You’re going to get hurt doing that, she tells him silently.

He sticks out his tongue.

Whatever. How hurt can he get? He’s already dead.

“Hey, Calla, wait for Evangeline. She’s right here!”calls her father, who obviously hasn’t heard the news bulletin about the two of them not walking to school together in over a week.

Before Calla can fill him in, Evangeline pops out the door, dressed almost identically to Calla and carrying a backpack.

“Calla! Hi!”

She looks almost pleasantly surprised, so Calla dares to say, “Hi—want to walk to school?”

“Sure.”

“Great!”

As Evangeline joins her, Calla can’t help but note that it doesn’t necessarily mean she’s oozing with forgiveness. After all, they’re both going in the same direction at the same time. What was Evangeline supposed to say? No, I want to walk a few steps behind you?

Which, incidentally, is pretty much what she did all last week.

They head in silence down the road toward the gates. The moment they’re out of earshot, Calla says, kicking a pebble along with the toe of her sneaker, “If you don’t want to walk with me, it’s okay.”

“It is? You mean you won’t, like, collapse in a heap on the ground and cry?”

Startled, she looks up— and is relieved to see Evangeline’s familiar, crinkly grin. “I don’t know, I might collapse, but I’ve cried so many tears over you I think I’ve run dry.”

Evangeline laughs.

“I’m kind of not kidding, actually,”Calla tells her. “I’m really sorry about everything, and I’ve totally missed you since . . .”

“Since you stole my boyfriend and faked a date with him to homecoming?”

“It wasn’t like that, I didn’t—”

“Gotcha.”Evangeline pokes her in the arm. “I know he wasn’t my boyfriend. He never will be. He’s not into me, it’s obvious. I guess I just wanted to pretend there was a chance, you know? And you totally ruined my delusional fantasy romance. I so hate when that happens.”

Calla laughs. Hard. Then she impulsively hugs Evangeline. Hard. “You’re a good friend.”

“So are you.”

“Really? Even though I ruined your delusional fantasy romance?”

“Happens to the best of us.”

They walk on.

Calla watches a phantom stagecoach pass them on the road, with a filmy driver wearing a top hat and a female passenger in a frilly bonnet.

Turning her head, she sees a Native American maiden with an infant in her arms watching from a thicket of lakeside cattails.