Between Darkness and Daylight (30 page)

"Of course, baby. You've had a long drive."

Warily, Nova followed her mother into the house, feeling every bit as if she were walking into the lion's den. She didn't know why she always built up a trip to Mom's as if she were going to meet her maker; she just knew her mother wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily. And come suppertime tonight, or tomorrow if Nova was lucky, Mom would be clamoring to read her aura.

"You're just in time for a game of Scrabble before dinner."

She thought of the last time she had played Scrabble and swallowed hard when Zane's tilted, full-lipped grin flashed before her mind's eye.

He'd been an excellent competitor all the way until the end, but hadn’t stood a chance against Nova's ingrained competitiveness and years of experience. She'd tried to warn him ahead of time that she’d been the state Scrabble champ her junior and senior years in two separate high schools, 208

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but hadn’t wanted to ruin the mood and bring up her nomadic past; hadn’t wanted to give him an opportunity to dig any further than he needed to.

She’d already been open and vulnerable from their lovemaking; no telling what she would have told him about herself, given half the chance—her visions, the threat to him…his death…

Why did that night seem like ages ago instead of mere weeks?

Nova closed her eyes and envisioned him—both of them, man and boy—as she'd walked out the door that final day. She'd left everything so unfinished, wimping out and walking away with her tail between her legs without putting up a fight. She should have stayed and defended herself a little harder, should at least have tried to make him understand who and what she was and why she'd come to New York to find him. She should have explained better. As things stood, he probably thought she was some kooky stalker, and she'd let him think it by leaving with her honor and sanity in question.

She bent slightly as Mom stood on her tiptoes to whisper in her ear,

"I'm beating the pants off of him, like usual."

"Not even going to try and let him win, huh?"

"Those days are long over. We're married now and I don't have to fake it."

Nova chuckled, just barely holding in a guffaw at her mother's ribald humor. Her mom was always full of surprises, if nothing else.

Her father met them on the threshold of the living room and gave her a tight hug and peck on the cheek before taking her coat to the living room closet. Then he rejoined them in the dining room, sliding an arm around Mom’s shoulder as Nova took a seat at the cherry wood table. She examined the board and whistled.

Glancing up at her dad, she shook her head. "She's got your number, Pop."

"My misfortune to have married Ms. Thesaurus."

Nova laughed, watching her parents, really seeing them for the first time in a long time.

She didn't come home as often as she would have liked, certainly not as often as her mother wanted, but when she did, it always struck her how alike her parents were, despite their dramatically dissimilar appearances.

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She'd always thought of her parents as Mutt and Jeff—not because of their different races, which their love had overcome long before interracial dating had become chic and the "in" thing—but because they were such an odd couple.

Her dad was chocolate-dark and a robust six-feet-five, while her mom was olive-skinned and the top of her head didn’t even reach his broad shoulders. From her Filipino mom, Nova had inherited her Polynesian appearance and the kind of looks that inspired jealousy in most women, and lust in most men. She might have thought herself pretty, but for the solid, sturdy build she’d inherited from her African American father.

From the first time she'd picked up a baseball at three, until the first time she'd thrown a perfect spiral pass thirty yards to her father at a neighborhood park when she was twelve, Nova had impressed her dad with her prowess. Of course, all of her athletic deeds had been accomplished much to her mother’s chagrin. It wasn't that her mom
wasn't
proud of Nova—she just would have been happier had Nova been a little more of a delicate flower than she'd turned out.

Her dad, on the other hand, couldn't have been prouder had she'd been born a male. She had all the physical stamina and cold logic of a male and little of the "girly" intuition and hyper-emotions that made her mother so susceptible to the pain and suffering of others, and so in demand as a healer and a minister.

Mom would have been perfectly happy had Nova inherited and

embraced her psychic abilities, which she'd always shunned. Until now.

She wondered if her father had ever resented her mother's calling as much as she had as a child. She hated admitting this to herself, but she knew it was true, knew it was why she'd fought the reality of her own gifts for so long.

"So, what's the verdict, hun? Think I have a chance?" her dad asked, taking the seat across from her at the table.

She looked up as Mom settled onto his lap and nuzzled his neck. Then she trained her eyes back on the Scrabble board and grinned. "I think she's got you right where she wants you, Pop."

* * * *

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Nova unpacked her overnight bag and settled into the guest bedroom.

She always felt like she'd come home in more ways than one when she visited her parents. Mom maintained the room as if Nova had never left home for college at seventeen, kept it decorated the way she always had as a teen—in pink and floral prints, with an abundance of stuffed animals scattered on the windowsill and at the head of the bed. The room always looked fresh and immaculate, as if her mother was expecting her back any day.

Stowing her bag in the closet, she threw on a pair of blue leggings and an oversized T-shirt and flopped in the middle of the canopied bed, clutching her cell close to her chest.

His number was in the memory, right behind Mom's home number and Kaylee's cell number. All she had to do was hit the button to dial and say

"Zane" and she might be able to hear his voice.
Might
being the operative word. She doubted he'd want to hear from her, doubted he'd want to hear any more weird Twilight Zone explanations about why she'd had such an accurate depiction of his face in her possession long before they ever met, long before she should have known who Zane Youngblood was.

She wondered if he was okay; she hadn't gotten any inklings of danger from him, but her gifts might not be accurate at this distance. She wondered if he'd even left for North Carolina yet. To think, just a couple of weeks ago, she'd had an invitation to accompany them to his mom's.

What she wouldn't do to be with him right now, to know he was safe. As it was, she was powerless to help him if anything happened.

Like I’m the only thing standing between him and certain death…
Hell, he'd survived long before she came along; he'd survive without her. He was a big boy, as he'd already pointed out. He could take care of himself.

But she'd feel much better knowing, at least hearing his voice, even if she couldn't be with him, touch him, feel his energy and warmth.

Nova dialed his number from the phone on the nightstand. If she did get through to him, she wanted to cut down on the risk of being disconnected.

After one ring, the annoying telephone operator came on to inform her that the cell phone user was "not available at this time." Nova choked back a sob, shocked at her intense need to bawl as she hung up the phone and curled on her side atop the frilly pink satin comforter.

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She didn't think that Zane would ever be available for her again.

* * * *

Nova rolled onto her back as someone opened the door and flipped on the overhead light. Her mother's gentle citrus musk wafted to her like oranges and tangerines on a tropical breeze.

She opened one eye, stretching and yawning as her mother soundlessly crossed the plush raspberry carpeting and sat on the edge of the bed beside her. If she’d come in to read her aura or otherwise try to remedy her troubled soul, Nova didn't think she had the strength to resist, didn't think she had the desire.

"I know you don't want to hear any of my spiritual 'mumbo-jumbo' as you call it…"

Nova winced at the memory of one of the few arguments she'd had with her mother before leaving home to go out on her own. She'd regretted those words the moment they left her mouth, knowing how undeserving her mother was of them, how much they had hurt her.

"It's not mumbo-jumbo, Mom," she sighed. "I never should have said that to you."

Mom smiled. "You're entitled to your opinion."

"Not when it hurts you." How would her mother feel when she found out about her visions? She'd certainly be just as hurt, if not worse. Nova thought she'd just have to cross that bridge when she got to it. But not now.

"You're an adult. You have to live your own life. You can't let what I believe influence your beliefs. "

For the love of Pete, was the woman reading her mind? Heading off a guilt trip that she knew full well her daughter was experiencing without her having to even open up?

"You do know that I only want what's best for you."

"I know you do."

"And I know that you're…troubled, not happy. Haven't been for some time."

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"Mom…" She sat up beside her on the bed. "It's not only what you believe anymore.” Seemed she had arrived at that bridge sooner than she’d anticipated.

"It's not?"

Nova shook her head at the arched brow, sadly averting her eyes.

Putting a finger under her chin, her mother lifted her head until their eyes met. "Tell me what's bothering you, Nova."

Her brain didn't know where to start, but her tongue sure did, tripping over itself to spill out everything she'd experienced, from the time she almost died to her relocation to New York. She paused and took a deep breath after her narrative, watching several conflicting emotions cross her mother's face in the blink of an eye: surprise, pride, elation, disappointment, and finally resignation.

Mom was quiet for so long after she finished, Nova grew restless.

"I suppose I should have expected your rejection, even your resentment. You were always so willful, so skeptical, much more so than your father."

Her father's skepticism certainly hadn't stopped him from loving and staying with his wife all these years. In fact, Nova didn't think she had seen her parents happier than they seemed now. She hadn’t thought her father would ever settle down after military life, but he seemed perfectly content being a stay-at-home husband while his wife gallivanted from committee meetings to board meetings and attended the annual National Spiritualist Association of Churches Convention in between her duties as a certified medium, spiritualist teacher, and healer at her temple.

Her mother always seemed extra-energized and inspired after the convention. The annual assembly, periodic sabbaticals, and her service to others revitalized Mom’s enthusiasm for her marriage, bolstering the love she had for her husband, a fringe benefit of Mom's ministry with which Dad could find no fault. At the end of the day, his wife always came back home to him, as full of life and affection as she'd ever been.

Nova wondered if Zane could be so tolerant, love her despite her weirdness, maybe even come to love her because of it.

Matt had certainly had a problem with her gifts, had thought the visions all in her imagination. But then, how tolerant could she expect the
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man to be when she'd been contemplating deserting him for one of those figments of her imagination?

"I can't honestly say I'm not hurt that you didn't come to me with this sooner, Nova."

She ducked her head like the disloyal and recalcitrant child she was. "I know."

"Have you decided what you're going to do with…with your abilities?"

"As in how I'm going to serve man?" Nova lurched to her feet and crossed the room, putting her back to her mother as she wrapped her arms around her breasts. She turned to face her after a long moment. Her mother hadn't moved an inch from her spot, just sat calmly looking at her.

"Mom, what do you want me to do?"

"Whatever makes you happy, Nova."

"Happy," she scoffed, flouncing back to her mother and flinging herself onto the bed. "What's happy?"

"Obviously something you're not."

"I thought I was."

"But now?"

Nova sat up. "You haven't asked me about…about the man from my visions. The stranger in New York."

"Should I?"

"Mom, don't you want to know what happened?"

"My darling Nova, I know what happened. That's why you're so miserable. You were as dishonest with him as you've been with yourself.

Did you expect him to embrace you?"

"I expected him to understand, to have a little faith and trust in me."

"Faith and trust beget faith and trust."

"Must you lecture me now, Mom?"

Her mother shrugged, the corner of her mouth tilting up into a grin.

"Good a time as any."

"I don't know whether to hug you, or pummel you, old lady."

That produced a chuckle. "Bite your tongue, young lady. You know I was a teenage bride."

Nova didn't think her mother had ever been a teenager, at least not in all the ways that counted to most young adults today. She couldn't imagine her mom as a frivolous young girl, interested in boys and first proms, and 214

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how long her fingernails were, and whether her hair and clothes looked right for a particular event. She wondered if there had ever been a time in the woman's life when she had doubted her calling or hadn't been the dedicated and selfless healer and teacher she was now.

"Despite what you think, I do understand some of what you're going through. The frustration and regret."

Nova waited, silently looked at her mother.

"Your father wasn't my first beau you know."