Between Us Girls (17 page)

“That's how I got from the airport to the hospital.”

“He doesn't let anyone touch his bike. Oh, we're all falling apart here. Chad went to his parents' house to spend the night, which he never does. Noah's been pounding on his piano all evening. Riley and Tasha have been at Inez and Louis's with Coco for hours. I ran ten miles. Ten. You didn't go back to Illinois.”

“Mama Liv means a lot to all of us.”

“You have some big shoes to fill.”

“I can't—”

“You can't say you can't.” Sam's phone beeped and she took it from her sweatshirt pocket.

“Well, I can't.”

Sam chuckled and slipped the phone back into her pocket. “All right, maybe you can't because I think you forgot something huge. Chad just texted one word: Tobi.”

“Tobi! The cat! Oh my gosh! Where is she?”

“Probably inside Liv's cottage.”

Jasmyn went to the desk and picked up the key ring. “Red dot, right?”

“Holly red. Shall we look for the mac and cheese?”

Jasmyn smiled. “Definitely.”

Twenty-Six

Much later that night, after Jasmyn and Sam had stuffed themselves with macaroni and cheese—Liv's comfort-of-all-comfort food—and Sam had gone home, Jasmyn sat on the floor in Liv's cottage, deciding what to do with the cat.

Tobi snuggled on her lap, purring like a little engine. Jasmyn had tried to carry the cat to her own cottage, but Tobi had complained loudly, jumped from her arms, and raced back to Liv's door.

Jasmyn understood. Who wanted to leave a home that felt cozy and safe? It was probably the real reason she had not gotten on the plane that morning. Cottage Eleven, even with its temporary furnishings and all-but-empty closet, provided more cocoon-ness than anything waiting for her in Valley Oaks.

It wasn't just inside Cottage Eleven. The whole entire Casa exuded comfort and security. Maybe it had something to do with the high surrounding wall and the nearly circular layout of the cottages. It was straight out of a storybook. If she hadn't already met everyone, she would not have been surprised to see hobbits living there.

The cottages all had bay windows that faced the courtyard. Their front doors were a different color, bright against the white walls. The interiors were simple with hardwood floors, old-fashioned rounded walls, and French doors that opened onto tiny back patios.

Each one felt homey, though Liv's most of all. Entering her cottage was like stepping into a teddy bear's hug. Jasmyn thought about crawling up on the floral print couch and spending the night inside that hug.

“But that seems presumptuous, don't you think?” She held Tobi up to her face. “I'm going home. Are you coming?”

The cat tilted her head and gazed at her. She was a pretty one, long-haired and multicolored. Her green eyes said she was staying put.

Jasmyn set her on the floor, and she scurried off toward the bedroom.

“Okay,” she called after her. “Be that way. I'll check on you in the morning.”

Outside, Jasmyn paused to soak in the nighttime courtyard. The air was cool and yet humid, a mixture of briny and sweet alyssum scents. A few stars were visible through the trees. It was near midnight, and the fountain had automatically turned off at eleven. The tiny lights that hung in trees and bushes would stay on until dawn.

What would Liv do?

The question poked its way into her thoughts without warning.

“I don't—”

But she did know. She had spent enough time, up close, with Olivia McAlister to replay a dozen similar scenes.

Liv, in the courtyard late at night, her shoulders thrown back, her face upward, inhaling deeply and breathing out a whispered,
Thank You, Lord.

Liv, gently shaking a mum from its pot and placing it in the hole she had dug.
Bless you.

Liv, smiling at a foamy latte.
Thank You.

Liv, on the sidewalk, bending over, her hand atop a toddler's head.
Bless you, child.

The woman prayed all the time, over and under and about everything, always thanking God for whatever was right there in front of her, always blessing others.

Jasmyn sighed. She figured there was something unseen at work. The cornfields and the woods had told her that since she was a kid. The ocean only made a concept of God more obvious. But making a personal connection the way Liv did? The thought had never entered her mind.

Except that day when she saw His finger.

She had asked Liv about it as they sat in the coffee shop one time. “I don't literally think it was God's finger. The idea popped into my head right then while it was happening.”

“Maybe in that incomprehensible moment you came face-to-face with the Ultimate Incomprehensible.”

Jasmyn heard the capital letters in Liv's tone. “You mean it's absolutely impossible for us to understand God?”

“Exactly. His ways and His nature are beyond us. We give Him human attributes, like fingers, to make it easier to relate to Him. And easier to blame.”

“You think I blame God for what happened?”

“I would.”

“Seriously?”

“I'd be deeply hurt and angry, like I was when Syd died. Couldn't God have stopped that? Was He punishing me for something?” She paused, her forehead creased.

Jasmyn could only stare at the woman who seemed to have it all together.

A few moments passed before she went on. “Eventually I ran out of steam. It took too much energy to be bitter. To be self-righteous. I realized that for the most part I'd been responding to God either as though He were a genie in a bottle who gave me things if I performed correctly, or like an ancient Greek god who zapped me if I did not perform correctly.” She had smiled. “But those were starting points. Necessary baby steps.”

Jasmyn's attention had gotten stuck on the zapping image. When Jasmyn was seven, her Grandma June abruptly quit going to church and taking Jasmyn with her. Her only explanation had been something about catty women blaming her for her daughter's pregnancy and if that was what God was like, she wanted no part of Him. Since then, Jasmyn assumed God was all about blaming, about zapping. She had, for the most part, kept her distance.

“The tornado felt like a personal zap.”

“Of course it did.” Liv nodded. “That's a baby step toward recognizing Him.”

Jasmyn had frowned.

Liv had smiled. “I can't explain why this world is full of such pain and heartache and evil and beauty and goodness and wonder. All I know for certain is that God is God and I am not. He's not a genie or a zapper. That takes a huge weight off my shoulders. It frees me up to simply share the journey with others.”

“And pray about everything.”

A funny expression crossed Liv's face, almost a wince. “I can't explain
that either. It's a mystery why I think He's listening. But I believe He is listening because I inexplicably believe that He loves me.”

“It doesn't make sense.”

“Exactly, Jasmyn, dear.” She patted her hand and changed the subject.

Now, in the courtyard, Jasmyn asked Sam's question. What would Liv do alone in the dark after a crazy day like Jasmyn had been through?

Easy one. Liv would thank God.

She sighed. Why not? “Um, thank You.”
Thank You.
For what? “For this beautiful, peaceful courtyard.”

That was easy enough. Real enough.

What else?

“Thank You for Liv, who works so hard to keep it beautiful and peaceful.”

Liv.

“Thank You that Liv is okay.”

And?

Friends.

“Thank You for Quinn.” Jasmyn had phoned Quinn from the hospital early in the day, her nerves totally frayed from the news of Liv's heart attack and missing her flight, not to mention that motorcycle ride. Although she wouldn't have blamed Quinn at all for being super upset, Jasmyn had felt desperate for her friend to be sympathetic.

“And she came through. She wasn't overly dramatic, and she didn't make me feel worse than I already did. She even offered to pick up my luggage and ship a few things, like the neon yellow shoes. Now that was downright unbelievable.”

Was there anything else?

Jasmyn looked up at the stars. She glanced around the ring of quiet cottages. She listened carefully and heard a faint whoosh
.

“Ohhh! The ocean! Thank You for the ocean. How could I forget? And for the stars and the palm trees. For this whole entire place. The Casa. Everybody who lives here. Liv, Sam, Piper, Chad, Riley, Tasha, Noah, Inez and Louis, Keagan. Did I get them all? And Beau. And Cottage Eleven, the one with my name on it. Thank You that I met everyone and stay here…”

She met them all because her car was stolen.

That sounded as though she could be grateful for a stolen car.

Seriously?

Then why not for Liv's heart attack, which fulfilled Jasmyn's wish not to leave Seaside Village today? Why not for the tornado, which got her there in the first place and put her in the position of having her car stolen?

“Okay, this is getting a little weird. No, it's a lot weird. Too weird.”

She shook her head, certain that she would hear a loose screw rattling around. Her cheeks felt flushed. It was embarrassing to act like a flake.

Besides, why would God bother listening after she'd ignored Him for so long? And why did she even consider that He existed in the first place? Who did she think she was, acting like Liv by praying about everything, acting as though God was interested?

Her eyes stung. She felt as if she'd swallowed a wad of bubble gum and it was stuck. “Honestly, God, we really do need her here. Please, please make her better. Really, really soon.”

She didn't move.

There was more to say to the God she was unsure cared. But the words burned so hotly in her chest that she could not speak them aloud.
It would be so wonderful to live here.

She exhaled and inhaled and exhaled, each breath going deeper. After a bit, her tears dried and the wad of gum melted away. And her doubts did not seem to matter anymore.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Amen.”

Ten minutes later she was sound asleep in her little rollaway, wearing a pumpkin orange nightshirt with the tag still on it.

Twenty-Seven

Sean Keagan sat in a chair the ICU nurses had reluctantly allowed him to put in Liv's room, near the foot of her bed. There was much eye-rolling when he said he would be occupying it throughout the night.

It wasn't that he didn't trust the staff to adequately watch over Liv. It was, as he pointed out to them, the fact that his one-to-one ratio beat their one-to-two, which often slipped to one-to-four due to break times, emergencies, and other situations he had witnessed earlier in the day. Simple arithmetic.

That and what Liv called his Clint Eastwood glare. She had said often that she expected him to say
Make my day
.

He wouldn't say that. His intention was not to mimic any tough guy. His persona simply came with the territory. He was orphaned at age twelve and rebellious as a teen despite kind grandparents, who wisely hauled him to counseling until he was eighteen and then backed his desire to enlist. After the military came a stint with the DEA. The rigorous lifestyles of both suited him, giving him discipline and direction.

When at last he had spun out his anger, he began what he referred to as the second half of his life. No bad guys to hunt and take down, no drug cartel business, no surveillance, no informants, no courtrooms, no guns.

Instead, he ran a gym where people exercised for health reasons and kids played basketball. He lived in an innocuous apartment and had a surrogate mother for a landlady. He surfed. He rode with a motorcycle club through deserts and mountains. Life was good.

Still, the persona remained, the air about him rife with some energy
that compelled others to see things his way. He knew blood ran through his veins because he had seen it. Sometimes, though, he wondered about its temperature. Liv might say it tended to run on the cool side.

Unless she could see him now, alert at two a.m., watching over her because truthfully, he really did care.

His mouth twitched. He was getting downright sentimental.

Twenty-Eight

One week and one day after returning home from the hospital, Liv sat in a lounge chair and watched Jasmyn carry two cups of tea across the courtyard. The girl wore her favorite yellow shoes. Thanks to her friend Quinn, she had enough clothes to get her through a few weeks without shopping again.

“What a gorgeous day!” Jasmyn handed a cup to Liv and slid onto a nearby bench. “I had to double-check the calendar to make sure what month it is.”