Remembrance (The Mediator #7)(103)

“Lucia will always be with you, in your—”

Suddenly the warm wind gave a particularly strong gust, rustling through the palm fronds overhead and causing the surface of the pool to ripple. It lifted Becca’s ponytail and blinded me for a moment by sending a thick dark wave of my own hair across my eyes.

When I’d brushed it aside, I could see that all the flickers of light reflected from the surface of the pool had shifted, and instead of dancing on the pool deck or the undersides of the palm fronds, they’d centered on Becca, glimmering across her face and legs and arms, like dozens of golden butterflies coming to rest their wings on her . . .

Or hundreds of flickering candle flames, sweetly circling her head like Saint Lucia’s crown.

But that was impossible. What was going on?

“Oh!” Becca cried, raising her arms to gaze at the dazzling light show. “It’s Lucia! I see her. I can feel her! Ms. Simon, she’s here!”

Becca was right. Someone was there.

But it couldn’t have been Lucia, since Lucia had crossed over the night before. It was someone else—someone with paranormal powers every bit as strong as Lucia’s—someone who wanted to give Becca the kind of celestial farewell that her friend would have, if she’d still been around.

Someone who smelled suspiciously of smoke from a wood fire, suede, vanilla, hospital soap, and just a tiniest hint of cigarettes.

Jesse.





treinta y cuatro


“Who’s here?” Kelly appeared from around the corner of the outdoor kitchen, carrying a tray with the lemonade pitcher and her magazine on it. “It’s only me. What’s wrong with you two?”

The lights vanished just as suddenly as they’d appeared, the wind dying, the surface of the pool going still. Above our heads, the palm fronds ceased to rustle, and the only sound that could be heard was the rumble of the Pacific and the rattle of the ice in the pitcher as Kelly approached.

But I could tell from the joyous smile on Becca’s face that that split second of warm, sunny contact had been enough. She would remember it for the rest of her life.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Becca said to Kelly, still smiling. “We were talking about a friend of mine. Weren’t we, Ms. Simon?”

“Yes,” I said, hastily gathering my bag and standing up. The distinctive Jesse scent vanished, and all I could smell was the ocean and the crisp sharp scent of the chlorine from the Walterses’s pool. Where was he? Nearby, obviously. “A good friend. Well, it’s been nice visiting with you, Becca, but I have to go now.”

“Do you really?” Becca asked, disappointed. “Can’t you stay for lunch?”

“No, she can’t,” Kelly said. She set the tray of lemonade in the exact spot on the chaise longue where I’d been sitting so that she could ensure I wouldn’t rejoin them, then lowered herself onto the chaise beside it. “Debbie’s here. I’m sure you’ll want to say good-bye to her on your way out.”

“Debbie?” It took me a second to figure out who she meant.

“Yes, your sister-in-law?” Kelly gave me a dirty look. “Surely you remember her. She and I are taking Becca to the mall to get a new dress and a mani-pedi because she’s got a party tonight. Don’t you, Becca?”

Becca glanced at her stepmother. “Yeah, I do. I mean, I do have a party. I didn’t know Mrs. Ackerman was coming over—”

“Well, she’s here. We’re having lunch first on the veranda. I’d invite Ms. Simon but Paolo didn’t prepare a large enough salmon. I’m sure Susan will understand.”

“Oh, I do.” I was already turning to go, thankful for the heads-up. Debbie was the last person I wanted to run into, especially if Jesse was somewhere on the premises. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye, Ms. Simon!” I heard Becca calling after me. “And thank you!”

I waved over my shoulder as I hurried down the side steps to the driveway, not even glancing back.

Debbie, I was certain, would enter through the house, not the yard. There was no chance I’d run into her and have to make awkward small talk. Fortunately I’d driven Jake’s BMW, so she might not even have recognized it in the driveway—at least not as readily as she would the dilapidated Land Rover, about which she—and her father—constantly complained. Why wouldn’t I allow the Mercedes King to sell me a nice E-Class sedan? Leases started at only $579 a month.

I peered over the security gate leading from the pool to the Walterses’s sprawling front yard, which sloped all the way down to a thick stone wall to 17-Mile Drive and from there, the sea.

There was definitely a male figure leaning against a car by the beach, across the street from the stone columns leading to Casa di Walters.

I couldn’t tell, at that distance, who it was, but the car I recognized by sight. It was a Land Rover. My Land Rover.

My heart somersaulted inside my chest.

The steps from the pool down to the driveway were quite steep and zigzagged a bit, and I was taking them at something of a clip so I didn’t even see that there was someone coming up them until I nearly collided into him—or her, as it turned out.

“Jesus!” Debbie yelled. “Watch it! Oh, Suze. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi.” Debbie was wearing a long yellow maxi dress and clutching a large turquoise beach bag and hat. She looked great, and, from the smug expression on her face, she knew it. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. I was just . . . I came by to see Becca’s dad about some issues she’s been having at school.”