THE SHADOWED ONYX: A DIAMOND ESTATES NOVEL (3 page)

“How about we just play the game? Okay?” Joy grabbed the stack of cards and separated them into two decks. Come on. Play along, Bea.

Beatrice’s eyes brightened. “Yes. But first we have to pray.”

“Okay … um … about what?”

Bea clasped her hands together. She bowed her head and closed her eyes. “Dear Jesus …” She opened one eye and looked at Joy. Seeing Joy not in the accepted prayer position, Bea raised her eyebrow and waited.

“Oh. Sorry.” Joy lowered her head and waited.

“… please don’t let any bad stuff into this room or into Joy’s heart. And help me win UNO. Amen.”

Joy fought back a smile. So insightful, yet so innocent. That was her Bea. Joy dealt the cards out between them and set the discard pile right in the middle. Hmm. What if it had been a Ouija board between them? What different scenes the two games created. Night and day—light and dark.

“You first, Joy.” Beatrice stuck her tongue out one side of her mouth and clomped down with her teeth. Down to business.

Joy put down a yellow six. All was forgotten. Beatrice simply must have been reacting to the scary pictures and the sound coming from the website. But then why the prayer?

Her innocent cousin arranged her cards like it was the most important task she’d ever accomplish. Joy would bet anything they were lined up red, blue, yellow, then green—some things never changed. Beatrice glanced up and grinned a lopsided smile at Joy.

Joy smiled back. No. Beatrice couldn’t possibly know there was anything spiritually questionable about what Joy had been doing. Could she?

But then again, if Raven could hear from dead people, maybe Beatrice could hear from God.

W
hy don’t you go on over to the coffee shop while I go to my Bible study class?” Mom sounded a little too hopeful as they left the sanctuary after making it through the sermon.

Joy grimaced. She’d planned on sitting with Mom in her class where they got serious about the Bible. Joy wouldn’t have to talk. And no one would talk to her. Heaven.

Before Dad left for the office that morning, he and Mom stood in the driveway talking. He flung his red tie over his shoulder and leaned in to kiss Mom on the cheek. He’d whispered something in her ear before climbing into his Cherokee, ditching church to go sell houses.

Joy would bet good money that he’d whispered something about getting Joy to have some fun. She got it. They wanted her to relax and let loose a little. It had been awhile; they were right about that. But it wasn’t easy. The pressure to strike a balance between being her normal, happy self and simply existing in some altered state of grief consciousness overwhelmed her. Impossible.

The coffee shop. Where the youth group went for
fellowship
during the adult Sunday school hour. A fancy name like fellowship didn’t elevate it above hanging out at best, gossip hour at worst. But in better times, Joy loved it. Flashes of herself seated on a stool while her friends stood around her, waiting for her to make them laugh with some witty comment, flew through her brain. Gone just as fast as they’d appeared. That had been some other life. Some other Joy.

But today? The idea of unstructured socializing with random people where she’d be expected to make conversation, smile, even crack a joke now and then, terrified her. She would say something stupid, or worse, nothing at all. The last thing Joy wanted to do was bring everyone else down. Joy, boring? Never. She’d rather disappear than be boring.

“Go on.” Mom nudged Joy’s arm with her shoulder. “You need to go hang out with your friends, even if only for their sake. They’re worried about you and want to spend time with you. They miss—”

Joy put a hand up. “Okay. Okay. I’ll go.” Anything to stop the whining. Joy took a deep breath and flipped her hair over her shoulder. Might as well get it over with. She walked down the long hallway from the sanctuary, past the kids’ classrooms and the nursery, trudged up a ramp, and entered the airy new addition.

Common Grounds coffee shop was more like a giant sunroom with banks of floor-to-ceiling windows and lush greenery. Clusters of tables and chairs surrounded a massive fireplace in the center. A bonfire in the middle of a jungle. Except jungles didn’t usually have four-dollar cappuccinos and frappés available made-to-order. At least regular coffee was free on Sundays.

Which reminded her, just before Halloween and Melanie’s … death, someone from the Common Grounds staff had called in reference to the application Joy had turned in. Making coffee for the business-meeting crowd and stay-at-home moms would have been a good gig once upon a time. But now, the less Joy had to deal with people, the better off they’d all be.

Okay, here goes
. Joy stepped through the vestibule and squinted against the sunlight.

“Joy!”

She heard her name several times.

“Awesome! Joy’s here,” someone called from the far side of the room.

“Ah. Now the fun can start.” Tyler winked and patted the chair beside him, near the fireplace.

Perfect. She’d hide out with Tyler. She moved in his direction just as Wendy slipped into the seat. Lovely.

Tyler grimaced and mouthed the word
sorry
.

Knowing Tyler, it was probably true. Joy offered a weak smile and shrugged. No big deal. Whether he knew it or not, he was far better off with Wendy’s bubbly cheerleader company than her own. She could join them, but the sight of Wendy giggling and batting her eyelashes at Tyler was way too much syrup for Joy to take.

An arm slid across the back of her shoulders. “Hey you. We sure have missed you around here.”

Deena. Joy’s tension abated at the human contact. She’d better not let her guard down or she’d be crying in no time.

The spunky youth leader had to stand on tiptoe to squeeze Joy tight. “I’m not going to bug you, but I’m here if you want to talk. Always.” As if sensing Joy’s wavering grasp on her emotions, Deena dropped her arm and patted Joy’s hand.

Joy nodded, blinking away the sting in her eyes. “Thanks.”

Deena held Joy’s gaze with her deep brown eyes then flashed a bright smile. “You can do this.” She winked and moved off to mingle.

Joy peeled her stare away. She needed a distraction. Food. Was she even hungry? It was so hard to tell these days. Blueberry or cranberry-orange muffins, her fave, or yogurt? She paused and asked her stomach which she could handle. It responded with a churning gurgle. Yeah, food was not going to happen. Joy poured herself a cup of black coffee then added two packs of sugar and a dollop of cream. She blew on steam rising from the scalding brew as she searched for a place to sit down.

Kelsey lifted herself a few inches from her chair on the other side of the fireplace and waved, her auburn curls bouncing in front of her shoulders. “Over here, Joy. Sit with us.”

That would work. Kelsey Martin. The least likely to meddle. Joy should spend more time with her. She approached the table, careful to keep her eyes averted from the other clusters so she couldn’t be roped into a conversation as she passed.

Who were those new girls with Kels? The pretty black girl looked familiar, but she wasn’t from school. And the freckled, tall girl—Joy had never seen her before. Joy slid into the empty seat and rested her forearms on the round bistro table, her coffee cup between her hands. She gave an effort at a smile.
Act natural
. “Who are your guests?”

“These are two friends from my school. They came to church with me today. This is Alicia and Paula.”

Joy nodded at the tall girl, Paula, then at Crystal. “Nice to meet you guys.” Wasn’t too often new people showed up. Especially not from the private school.

“You’ll love Joy. She’s our resident sunshine. The life of the party. She always has good ideas, and we’re never bored when Joy’s around.” Kelsey grinned.

Next she’ll break out in a rousing rendition of “You Are My Sunshine.”

Kelsey held up her fist for an oddly timed knuckle bump.

Okay. Joy returned the bump. Slightly awkward.

“We missed you at youth group this week. It’s just not the same without our Joy.”

Little did Kelsey know, it never would be the same again.

New subject. Joy cleared her throat. “So, can I ask you guys a question?” They’d probably think she was crazy, but she had to know. “Have any of you ever used a Ouija board?”

Kelsey’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, gross! No way.”

Paula shook her head. “Not me.”

Crystal nodded. “Oh yeah. Where I come from, people do that kind of stuff all the time. I’m from New Orleans, you know.”

Paula gawked at Crystal. “What? I never knew this. You mean you personally have actually used a Ouija board?”

Joy got the sense that Paula would inch her chair away from Crystal if it wouldn’t be so obvious.

“Oh sure, I have tons of times.” Crystal shrugged. “I don’t know where they are, or if we even brought them when we moved, but we used to have three or four in the house.”

“How did I not know that? We’ve been friends this whole time since you moved here a year ago, and I didn’t know you messed around with that stuff.” Paula shook her head.

“What’s the big deal, anyway?” Crystal sipped on her coffee.

Yeah. Joy could use an answer to that one.

“It’s just scary, is all.” Paula shuddered. “I’ve heard too many stories of people who start messing around with stuff like that—there’s no turning back.”

“So you don’t believe it’s real?” Kelsey arched a single eyebrow at Crystal.

How did she do that? Joy tried to lift only one with zero luck. Oh well, talentless eyebrows weren’t such a big deal.

Crystal shook her head. “Oh no. I know it’s real. Otherwise why do it?”

Exactly.

“What about you?” Kelsey turned to Joy.

“Me?” She’d done a decent job of deflecting to that point, but now all eyes were glued to her. “Well, I think it can be real. I think any of that stuff is if you really believe.”

Crystal nodded. “Yeah. You know, Louisiana black folk are kind of known for spiritual stuff like voodoo and fortune-tellers and all that. So it’s never seemed like a big deal to me. I just think I know the power behind it. You just have to respect the power. Then you’re fine.”

“I think just like anything, it’s what you do with it.” Joy shrugged.

“Why did you bring this up today, first thing, like that? Did something happen?” Kelsey squinted at Joy. “Is this about Melanie?”

Joy winced. Hearing her best friend’s name was like taking a bullet. “No. Nothing about … her.”

“Then why?”

Joy needed to be careful how she answered. No sense stirring Kelsey up. “I don’t know. I was reading about it in a book the other day and just wondered. I didn’t know anybody who’d ever done it.”

“Not me. Not ever.” Kelsey shook her head, whipping those chestnut tendrils across her face. “I definitely think it’s not something you should mess with.
Ever.”

Joy smirked.
Why don’t you tell us how you really feel, Kels?

Crystal shrugged. “If you feel that way, then you definitely shouldn’t.”

“It’s just … well, if it’s a real thing, then it’s part of our human reality, right? And if it’s
not
real, then who cares if somebody messes with it?” Joy held Kelsey’s gaze. “Do you see what I’m saying? If it’s nothing more than a toy, then it’s harmless. If it is an authentic tool to contact spirits, wouldn’t you want to know?”

Joy had promised herself she’d never look through the memory coffin again. She’d lasted five days. Three whole days longer than last time. At least it was progress. But she couldn’t resist any longer. Being at church had pushed her over the edge.

She pulled the blue plastic bin down from her closet shelf and kicked aside her large-animal biology books to make room on the floor. She popped open the latches on the sides and lifted the lid.

Deep breath.

Right on top where she’d carefully placed it after her last dose of her painful past lay his OHS basketball sweatshirt. Joy lifted it to her face and drank in the scent of Austin’s favorite cologne. Eternity for Men. Fitting name.

What would she do when the shirt lost its smell? Well, hopefully by then she’d be able to keep her promise and leave the box unvisited.

Joy folded the sweatshirt into a puffy square and set it beside her on the area rug in the center of her bedroom. Next in the box was her movie stub key ring. She smiled as she thumbed through the dog-eared paper squares. The ticket from every single movie she and Austin had ever seen together since they were little. Nifty little hole punched in the right corner, slid onto the key ring, and she had her memento extraordinaire. How many times had she counted those tabs? One hundred eleven stubs spun around that key ring, representing hundreds of childhood outings that later became special dates. They’d provided her dozens of movie quotes to pepper her conversations and added up to two hundred plus hours of her life she’d given to Austin and could never get back.

She lifted out the wrist corsage Austin had bought her to wear to homecoming last year—now wilted and crushed. Like her heart. She’d looked so pretty in her eggplant chiffon bridesmaid’s dress from her cousin Stacey’s wedding earlier that year, a neat contrast to his dark suit. This year would’ve been their junior prom. Would’ve been.