Discovering (Lily Dale #4)(69)

She actually got to see her mother, just as she’s been yearning to do since she arrived in Lily Dale and discovered that it might just be possible.

One last time. That’s all I asked for. That’s all I wanted.

But it wasn’t enough.

It could never be enough.

David Slayton’s words echo in her head.

You have tremendous power in your ability, Calla.

Maybe he’s right about that.

Only time will tell.





THIRTY-SEVEN

Geneseo

Tuesday, October 16

3:17 a.m.

The dream is familiar.

Laura walks in the sunshine along a grassy shore beside a beautiful country lake surrounded by rolling, wooded hills. Just ahead are charming Victorian cottages, and there are little white flowers everywhere: lilies of the valley.

She bends to pick one of the bell-shaped blooms and holds it to her nose to breathe in its fragrance.

“Heavenly, isn’t it?”

The female voice is familiar. Startled, Laura looks up to see a woman standing beside her, smiling at her with unmistakable love.

Maternal love.

“Mom?”

“I’m sorry, so sorry . . .”Her mother wraps her arms around Laura, holding her. “I never meant to leave you.”

“I know .”

“But you’re not alone. I’m here. I’m always here. And so are your guides. Look for them, Laura.”If you look hard enough, you can always find it.

Laura doesn’t understand . . . and then, all at once, she does.

“Father Donald?”she asks her mother, and her mother nods.

“But I don’t feel him. I don’t see him.”

“You will again.”

“I feel so alone, though. Like I don’t belong to anyone. I don’t belong anywhere.”

Her mother lifts an arm and points at the cluster of cottages. Suddenly, they’re much closer than they were before. Laura can even see the peeling pinkish orange paint on the one closest to her, a two-story cottage with a front porch.

Someone is there, she realizes. On the porch.

It’s her mother—but no, it can’t be, because her mother is right here with her, and the person on the porch is too young.

“You’re not alone,”her mother tells her. “She’s been looking for you, Laura.”

“Who is she?”Laura asks, though she knows. In her heart, she knows, just as she knew her mother.

“She’s your family, and she’s waiting.”

Laura turns to her mother and sees that she’s holding a bouquet of white calla lilies—exactly like the ones she received back in New York.

“Those were from you?”she asks with sudden comprehension.

Her mother nods.

“And the plane ticket?”

Another nod.

“But . . . how did you do that?”

“Anything is possible. Anything at all. One day, you’ll understand.”

“When?”

“When your own journey on the earth plane has ended and it’s time for you to discover what lies beyond. For now, Laura, go to your sister. It’s time.”

With that, her mother is gone, but somehow, Laura knows everything is going to be okay, because the girl on the porch is waiting for her.





THIRTY-EIGHT

Lily Dale

Saturday, October 20

11:20 a.m.

Sitting in her Beginning Mediumship class on Saturday morning, Calla is closing her eyes, meditating along with the others, when it happens.

In her mind’s eye, she sees herself—at least, that’s what she thinks at first.

Then she realizes that the face is a little different, and the hair is a little different, and it’s not Calla at all. Nor is it her mother.

It’s someone who looks an awful lot like both of them. She’s troubled. Frightened. Alone.

“You’re my sister,”Calla silently tells the girl in her vision. “You’re not alone. We have each other, and Gammy, and Mom—she’s with us both. Don’t you know that? Don’t you know that you belong here in Lily Dale?”

The girl smiles then, and holds out something.

Flowers. A bouquet of lilies of the valley.

Calla opens her eyes, and the girl is gone, but the fragrance lingers, all around her. She looks at the others, heads bowed in silent meditation, opening themselves to Spirit just as Calla has.

But I can’t stay here, because my sister is waiting.

She doesn’t know how she knows that, but she’s certain of it.

She quietly rises from her chair and slips unnoticed out into the cold gray autumn day. Wet leaves are slippery beneath her feet, and the drizzle is cold on her cheeks as she hurries toward home. They’re predicting snow later. Real snow, not just flurries. This time, it’s supposed to stick.

When Calla reaches her grandmother’s house, she spots a now-familiar dark sedan parked at the curb.

Detectives Kearney and Lutz are here.

She hurries up the steps and opens the door.

Yes, there they are. She can see them standing in the living room, and her grandmother, and her father, and . . .

The girl glances up, sensing Calla before any of the others realize she’s there.

Calla looks at a face that’s familiar, and yet not. The girl is troubled. Frightened. Alone.