Discovering (26 page)
“So do I.”He puts the keys in the ignition. “I guess that’s all decided, then?”
“All decided.”
“So we’re going home to Lily Dale now?”
“Yes,”she says with a smile, settling into the passenger’s seat. “We’re going home to Lily Dale.”
Ithaca
Saturday, October 13
8:31 p.m.
The drive home to Lily Dale has been far more pleasant than the outbound trip. Calla and her father haven’t done much talking, but their silence is companionable. Now that there’s a sense of resolution for their future— as a family, and as individuals— the tension between them has all but dissolved.
It’s almost like the old days.
Almost . . . but not quite.
Things will never be the same. Mom is gone, and Calla is growing up, and Dad is moving on, with Ramona.
Calla’s excited about what the future might hold for her, but a part of her might always feel wistful for the past.
Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe that’s how it is for everyone. The older you get, the more memories you’ve made. You can’t help but think about the way things used to be.
Especially when you’ve lost someone you love.
Darkness has long since fallen by the time Calla and her father arrive at the Lily Dale gates.
“Your grandmother is going to want to hear everything,”Dad comments as they drive along the rutted, deserted street.
“About . . . Jack?”Calla can’t bring herself to call him her grandfather. Not aloud. Maybe someday, but not yet.
“About Jack, and about your decision to stay here for college.”
Calla nods. Odelia isn’t the only one who will want to hear that.
“Dad? Do you think you could drop me off at Jacy’s?”
She fully expects him to protest, but he nods. “That’s fine. Just don’t stay long. It’s getting late, and it’s a school night.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
She’s about to tell him how to get there but he’s already making the turn in the right direction.
“You know where Jacy lives?”Calla asks in surprise as they pull up in front of Walt and Peter’s house.
“Sure. What do you think I am, an outsider?”
Calla can’t help but grin at that. Dad, too, has become a part of this strange little town. Who would have ever guessed that would happen? Who would have guessed any of this?
“Thanks, Dad.”She leans over to give him a hug. “For dropping me off here and for . . . everything.”
“No problem. Don’t be long,”he reminds her as she climbs out of the car. “Your grandmother will be waiting to hear all about it, and she’ll want to hear it from you.”
Calla waves and hurries toward the porch, hoping Jacy will be home. She’s never just dropped in before, but . . .
It’s okay, right? He’s her boyfriend, after all.
Warmed by the thought, she hurries up the steps and rings the bell.
It doesn’t take long for the front light to flick on. In Lily Dale, even in the off- season, people are quite accustomed to doorbells ringing unexpectedly.
Balding, bearded Peter Clifford opens the door, probably expecting a walk- in appointment for a reading.
“Calla!”
“Hi, Peter. I’m sorry to just barge in but I wanted to talk to Jacy if he’s home?”
“No problem, he’s upstairs taking a shower. Come on in.”Peter holds the door open.
She steps into the entryway and admires the decor, as always. Peter and Walt have painstakingly remodeled the old cottage with authentic Victorian wallpaper, fixtures, and furnishings, capturing the period style without frilly, fussy overkill.
Peter calls to Jacy from the foot of the stairs. “Are you out of the shower? Calla’s here!”
“What? Really? Tell her I’ll be down in two seconds!”
“He’ll be down in two seconds,”Peter echoes dryly. “How’s your grandmother? I haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“I haven’t, either,”she admits. “I’ve been away, looking at colleges.”
“Really? Where?”
She tells him, and his eyes light up.
“I went to Cornell. I was premed. Of course that was way back in the olden days.”
Peter, she knows, used to be an M.D. Somewhere along the way, he made the transition to psychic healer and wound up in Lily Dale.
“So are you applying there?”he asks Calla.
“To Cornell?”She shakes her head. “I want to stay close to home.”
“Jacy will, too. I wish we could afford to send him away to school, but . . .”He shrugs.
Calla—who hasn’t been able to get much out of Jacy when it comes to talk of next year—is glad to hear that he won’t be going far. Absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder, she acknowledges, thinking of Kevin.
Footsteps creak down the stairs and Jacy appears. He’s barefoot, wearing gray sweats, and his hair looks as though he just rubbed it dry with a towel.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”He seems pleasantly surprised to see her. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow night.”
“I wasn’t, but . . . here I am.”
She wonders if Jacy’s going to hug her in front of Peter. Nope. He stops short a few feet away, but shoots his foster dad a pointed look.
“I’ll be in the other room,”Peter announces, and disappears discreetly.
Jacy immediately puts his arms around Calla. He’s so familiar and comfortable, and she rests her cheek against the soft, plush cotton of his sweatshirt, inhaling the pleasant scent of laundry detergent and shampoo and toothpaste.
“Why’d you come back? I hope you and your dad didn’t have a big blowout.”
“No, it was kind of . . . the opposite.”She tells him about their conversation, then about the encounter with Jack Lauder, and finally, about her decision not to go away to school. She leaves out the part about Kevin.
Maybe she’ll share that with Jacy later. Maybe she’ll keep it to herself.
“I’m really glad to hear that, Calla. I know it’s almost a year off, but . . . I hate thinking about you leaving.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”He rests his forehead against hers. “What, you think I want to be apart from you now that we’ve finally figured things out?”
Her heart is beating like crazy. “I don’t want to be apart from you, either. I mean, that’s not why I’m staying here— it’s not the only reason, is what I mean, but—”
“Stop talking, Calla.”
“What? Why?”she asks, dismayed by his terse tone.
“Because when you’re talking, I can’t kiss you.”
“Oh! I thought you were—”
“You’re still talking,”he murmurs, and then his lips brush hers and she melts against him, glad to be home where she belongs.
Geneseo
Sunday, October 14
3:00 p.m.
“We appreciate your talking to us, Miss Logan.”
Laura nods, watching the portly Detective Lutz set aside the notebook in which he wrote down everything she said to him and his partner, Detective Kearney, in the last hour.
“There’s just one last thing we need to discuss now.”
Her heart sinks.
All she wants—all she’s wanted since they contacted her yesterday afternoon, not long after she arrived home, shell-shocked, at the purple house— is to get this business over with. Only then can she move on.
Move on . . . to what?
Okay, so she has a lot to figure out.
Starting with the fact that she apparently experienced an ongoing hallucination for most of her life.
Maybe I’m crazy, just like Mother.
Things like that run in families.
Only, she isn’t my family.
The whole thing would be easier for her to accept if Father Donald had turned out to be an imaginary friend— someone she totally made up.
Instead, he turned out to be someone who actually existed . . .
Long before she was born.
Someone she never heard of.
How can she possibly explain that?
It doesn’t make sense.
Maybe it will, somehow, when she’s past all this other business involving Mother’s incarceration for murder.
No . . . not “Mother.”
She’s not my mother.
The police confirmed that Sharon Logan illegally adopted Laura as an infant, from a teenaged couple named Stephanie Lauder and Darrin Yates. They confirmed, too, that Stephanie hadn’t been aware of the adoption, or even that it had been a live birth.
The detectives also delivered the shocking news that Sharon Logan murdered both Stephanie and Darrin. The motive is unclear.
But Laura, remembering Sharon’s constant paranoia and all the irrational talk about someone taking Laura away from her, can only guess that the woman’s worst nightmare had come true the day Darrin showed up on her doorstep. Sharon thought the truth would come out and she would lose Laura forever.
Never mind that Laura was already an adult.
In her delusional state, Sharon didn’t seem to realize Laura had grown up.
Ironically, now Sharon Logan really has lost Laura forever.
She’s not the only one facing a loss.
Not only is Laura’s so-called mother not her mother—but her real parents, who, just months ago, were almost within her grasp— are now dead.
Apparently, it was her father’s ghost that Laura saw that night in her apartment.
Unless you dreamed it.
What about Father Donald? Did she dream him, too? Every single time? Even when she saw him in broad daylight?
Yet, if she did dream him . . . that doesn’t change the fact that he really did exist.
I never heard of him, though.
It just doesn’t make sense.
Dreams . . . ghosts . . .
What’s the difference? They’re both intangible.
Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that there’s no chance of a fairy- tale ending for Laura. No chance of finding her long- lost family and living happily ever after.
Sharon Logan robbed her of that, too.
If you look hard enough, you can always find it.
No.
No, you can’t.
Now what?
she wonders, seeing the detectives look at each other, then back at her again across the dusty coffee table in the living room of the purple house.
“Laura, your mother— Stephanie, your birth mother— had another child. Later in life, when she was married and living in Florida.”
Another child . . .
“She’s living now with her grandmother and her father in a town called Lily Dale, about a two- hour drive from here.”
“Who is?”she asks, unable to register the meaning.
“Your half sister.”
Her half sister.
She has a half sister?
“Her name is Calla. She looks a lot like you. She’s seventeen years old. She wants to meet you.”
Laura has a half sister.
She looks a lot like Laura.
Her name is Calla.
She’s seventeen years old.
And, Laura realizes, she’s the girl Sharon Logan attacked in Florida.
“She . . . wants to meet me?”she echoes as the pieces fall into place at last. “Why?”
Again, the detectives exchange a glance.
“I guess it’s only natural,”Detective Lutz begins, “for her to want to—”
“Blame someone for what happened to her, and to her mom?”
“I don’t think that’s why,”Detective Kearney tells her. “You’re her sister.”
Laura swallows hard.
My sister. I have a sister.
I’m not alone in this world after all.
But what if . . .
What if Laura agrees to meet her, thinking she’ll finally have a family after all— only to find out that Calla does blame her for what Sharon Logan did?
Who needs that?
There’s an uncomfortable silence.
“I’m sorry. I just . . . I can’t.”
“Why not?”
If you look hard enough, you can always find it.
No, you can’t.
You can’t find hope, or faith . . .
You can’t even find the man who made that promise, because he doesn’t exist.
Laura gets shakily to her feet. “Tell her that I can’t. Please.”
Detective Kearney hands her an envelope.
“What is this?”
“Her contact information. In case you change your mind. You never know .”
For a moment, Laura considers handing it back.
But Kearney is right. You never know .
Standing here in the quiet, empty house, facing an uncertain future without a friend in the world—this world, anyway— Laura tucks the envelope into her pocket.
