Discovering (Lily Dale #4)(45)

“I wish I could, but I have a ton of homework.”

Ramona shook her head. “So does Evangeline.”

Calla nodded. She had spoken to Evangeline earlier, to fill her in about the meeting with the detectives. When she ended the conversation with a “See you tomorrow morning,”Evangeline told her she had to be at school an hour early for extra help in chemistry.

“I keep telling her that working on her homework with Russell isn’t a good idea,”Ramona said as Andy shuffled the cards. “I don’t think they’re getting much done, other than mooning around at each other.”

Funny Ramona should mention that, because Calla noticed that was pretty much what Ramona and Dad were doing.

Though he did interrupt his flirtation to say, “Calla, don’t forget to pack a weekend bag tonight so that I can get it in the morning. We’re leaving right from school when I pick you up.”

“I will,”she promised, and made a hasty escape back up to her room with a healthy snack of crackers, baby carrots, and hummus— along with one of the big chocolate brownies Ramona had baked for Dad.

Well, she claimed to have baked them for everyone. But she was looking at Dad when she said it.

Calla finished her homework, then threw some stuff into her duffel bag for the weekend trip. They’re heading first to Penn State in State College, Pennsylvania, then back up to New York State: Cornell in Ithaca and Colgate in Hamilton. The circular route Dad’s mapped out will bring them back home late Sunday night.

As she waits for the screen to load, she wonders when she should break it to her father that she’s pretty sure she wants to stay closer to home— home, as in Lily Dale—next year. She looked over the brochures Mrs. Erskine gave her, and Fredonia State University seems to offer everything she should probably be looking for.

Not that she’s looking for much more than a solid school that happens to be nearby.

Oh, well. She’ll worry about all of that later, because at last, her e-mail has popped up on the screen.

Sure enough, there’s one from Kevin.

No, not one.

One . . . two . . . three?

Frowning, she opens the most recent.

Okay, now I’m being a pain, I know . But I’m really worried about you. You don’t have to write a long note back. Just a quick one to let me know that you’re okay. Otherwise, I might show up on your grandmother’s doorstep to see for myself. Love, Kevin

Calla sits for a moment with her fingers poised over the keyboard.

Then, her mind made up, she begins typing.

I’m fine. Don’t worry.

She pauses.

Should she tell him she and Dad are going to be visiting Cornell this weekend?

No.

She simply types in her name.

It looks funny without anything before the signature.

Anything . . . like love?

No way.

She backspaces, erasing her name, then hits Send.

He’ll know who it’s from.

As she suspected, her in-box contains a few other e-mails. One is from Billy Pijuan, an old friend of hers in Florida, a few are from Lisa, the rest are spam.

She clicks on one of Lisa’s.

Come on, hurry up.

It’s taking forever. This is going to be—

Suddenly, a screen pops up—and it isn’t Lisa’s e-mail.

It’s a new sign-on screen— and her mother’s screen name is already typed into the User ID box. The cursor is blinking like a beacon in the password box.

How did this screen pop up?

Puzzled, Calla wonders if she hit some kind of automated button by accident.

Maybe.

Now that she’s here . . .

She finds herself typing in her mother’s password.

Then, inhaling deeply, about to hit Enter . . .

She smells it.

Lilies of the valley.

The room is filled with the fragrance.

“Aiyana?”Calla turns in her chair and there she is.

The spirit guide is dressed in flowing white, as always, her black hair pulled back from her lovely, dark-complected face. She nods at Calla, an approving gleam in her almond-shaped black eyes, almost as if . . .

“Did you do this?”Calla blurts, indicating the screen.

Aiyana lifts a hand, pointing at it.

“You want me to read her e-mail,”Calla says. “Is that it?”

“Find her.”

“Find who? My mother?”Calla asks, but the apparition is fading.

Within moments, she’s gone, and so is the scent of lilies of the valley.

Calla looks back at the screen.

She doesn’t remember hitting Enter after typing the password, but the mailbox icon has loaded anyway.

With a shrug, she goes directly to the archives, scrolling back to last spring.

She skims past the mail she’s already read, and ignores all the correspondence that isn’t between her mother and Darrin.

Dear Stephanie, I understand if you can’t forgive me, but please forgive yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. Everything is my fault. I’m the one who persuaded you not to tell anyone you were pregnant, because I was a coward. I guess I still am, because I find it much easier to communicate with you this way than I did in person. There are so many things I couldn’t say to you when I saw you in Boston.

I guess the most important is that I still love you, and always will.