The Soulkeepers (8 page)

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's really good," he said
honestly.

"It's my own secret recipe. It has over
seventeen distinct ingredients. I call it moon tea because it takes
a month to make, a full cycle of the moon. I use pumpkins from my
garden. Imparts a unique flavor, wouldn't you agree?"

Jacob nodded. Something about the warm tea
and the way the light of the fire flickered across the wood grain
coffee table was helping him feel more like himself. Dr. Silva
looked him directly in the eye and smiled but he didn't feel the
same electric tingle as before. He felt…normal, like he might have
felt around any adult. She was still stunning but her beauty wasn't
overwhelming.

"That's better," she said, but Jacob didn't
know what she meant. She couldn't possibly know how attracted he'd
been to her before.

"You look tired, Jacob. We don't have to
start in the garden right away. Why don't you just rest awhile and
tell me about yourself?"

"Well, I am a little tired," he replied. To
Jacob's surprise, he began to tell her about himself, more openly
than he'd ever talked with anyone, even Malini. The words poured
out of him as if he were a bag of sand that she had slit open,
releasing every grain of thought he'd ever had. Jacob told her
about his parents and growing up in the little house on Oahu. He
told her about his father's death in the war and then about living
with his mother in the family car. He described in detail the
public housing apartment he eventually moved into. Jacob admitted
that Malini was the only friend he'd had in a long time. But what
would upset him the most, later when he'd had the chance to think
about their talk, was that Jacob admitted to her that his living
situation had cost him friends and how he wondered somewhere deep
inside if his mother had meant to abandon him. It was a private
thought, not meant to be shared with anyone, but he'd said it just
the same.

It didn't bother him while he said it. Every
word was a weight, rolling off his tongue, leaving him lighter than
before. It was so easy, to cast the weight aside. When every event
his brain could remember was laid out on the table, he leaned back
in his chair, feeling as light as a feather, and closed his eyes.
If she minded, Dr. Silva did not say so or anything about the
silence that ensued.

It was warm here, relaxing. Jacob didn't
care if he ever started work, or if he ever left.

He was on the edge of an irresistible sleep.
But just as the feeling threatened to overpower him, he forced his
eyes open one last time. He looked across the coffee table at Dr.
Silva, her empty cup in hand, and suddenly felt rude for doing all
of the talking and none of the listening.

"What about you, Dr. Silva? Tell me about
yourself."

Dr. Silva sat up straighter, her eyebrows
arched in surprise. She shifted in her chair, looking
uncomfortable.

"Well there's not much to tell really," she
began. Her eyes flicked from her cup to Jacob. "My father kicked me
out of his house a long, long time ago, and I have been trying to
get back home ever since."

She may have continued but Jacob didn't
hear. He was fast asleep.

A Girl Worth Fighting
For

When Jacob woke up, Dr. Silva was in the
same chair. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep but the
weather had changed and rain pelted the window in angry bursts.
Self-conscious, he ran the back of his hand across his mouth to
check for drool. Had she been watching him sleep?

Dr. Silva explained that he was done for the
day, but Jacob would be expected to work every Saturday morning.
She would be waiting for him in the back of the house a week from
today. He agreed, straightened his shirt, and followed her to the
door.

Spending a morning with Dr. Silva made Jacob
feel like he'd survived skydiving or bungee jumping. What was it
she'd said about herself? Something about her father kicking her
out of the house when she was young? He couldn't remember.

Why had he told her all of those things
about himself? After all, people had been hounding him to talk
since he'd arrived here: Principal Bailey, Uncle John, and even
Malini would have loved some info. Why did he pick the one person
he feared the most and trusted the least to share his most private
thoughts? There was no explanation. Jacob broke out in gooseflesh
just thinking about it.

The Laudners front door was unlocked and he
let himself in. He didn't mind the rain so much, but he was anxious
to put another door between Dr. Silva and himself. Plus, it was
cold, Paris cold. In his haste, he almost whacked John who was
standing just inside the door, scowling at a list in his hand.

"Jacob! You're back. Are you done for the
day?" John's eyes were annoyingly hopeful.

"Yeah, she said we would start next
Saturday, so..."

"Probably can't do much today with the rain
and all, huh. So, do you have a few minutes to help me with
something?"

"Uh, sure. What is it?"

"Good! I need you to come into town with me.
Aunt Carolyn needs some groceries but I have some things to do at
the shop. I was hoping you could pick 'em up while I'm
working."

"Sure." Jacob needed to get his mind off of
what had happened with Dr. Silva and he wasn't excited about
hanging out in the house alone with Katrina.

"Let's take Big Blue."

Big Blue was a monster of a Chevy with
rusted out wheel wells and robins egg blue paint that barely
adhered to the metal. The engine was loud and the seats were torn
but John often said, "still runs great!" Aunt Carolyn refused to
ride in it. Jacob guessed that was an added incentive for John to
keep it around.

They headed into town on Rural Route One,
the uncomfortable silence not overcome by the hum of the
engine.

"Have you heard anything about my mom?" he
asked.

"Yes and no," John sighed. "I was trying to
find the right time to tell you this. The police have stopped the
active investigation. The case is still open but nobody is going
out on it anymore."

"Do you mean they've stopped looking for
her?" His voice was louder than he'd intended and it filled the
small cab.

"I don't want to upset you, Jacob. The case
is still open; they just don't have any leads. There were no
fingerprints and the only blood they found was hers. They are not
actively looking because there's no place left to look…unless more
evidence pops up somewhere."

Silence filled the space between them again.
Jacob had suspected as much. It had been months. But it didn't make
it any easier to hear it.

"Do you know…can I have what was in her
purse? I mean, there were pictures and things in her wallet," he
said, but what he was thinking was that somewhere, near the bottom,
there might be a small key: a key that might open up a jewelry box,
a box that might hold a clue to her last days. He couldn't say that
to Uncle John though because the box was his mother's secret, a
secret she'd kept even from him, and Jacob would keep it from
everyone else, until he knew what it was and if it could help find
her.

"I honestly don't know. I think all of that
stuff is locked up as evidence. I'll ask though."

John parked in front of a chain of Paris
businesses with decorative wooden signage. The town had a policy
against electronic or neon signs in favor of hand painted wood. It
was one of the few things Jacob liked about Paris. Another great
thing about Paris was that anywhere you parked you could reach
everything else within a couple of blocks. That was the end of
Jacob's list of things to like about Paris.

"Meet me at the shop when you're done," John
said before darting out into the drizzle.

Exiting the truck, Jacob jogged through the
rain to Westcott's grocery. He ducked inside the door and dug into
his pocket for Carolyn's list. Great. Scented hand soap and hair
dye along with a bunch of other stuff. This could take a while.
John had given him an envelope full of cash for the purchases. The
money seemed to get heavier in his pocket and he was tempted to
skim a few dollars off the top. He dreaded his next workday with
Dr. Silva and any amount would make his time with her shorter. Even
as he thought about it, he knew he couldn't do it. All Jacob had
was himself and he knew deep down he wasn't a thief.

He absent-mindedly thumped and sniffed a
cantaloupe. How did you tell if a melon was ripe? He had no
idea.

A flash in his peripheral vision brought his
head around. He watched her duck behind the dairy section, her hair
down today in long layers that fell around her face and down her
back. Jacob dropped the melon and turned the corner to follow. She
was working her way down the cereal aisle. He pursued, riding the
grocery cart like a scooter to make up for lost time. He caught up
with her in front of the Cocoa Crispies.

"Malini?"

"Jacob! Hey, it's good to see you." She
smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes lit up.
"What are you doing here?"

"Shopping for my Aunt Carolyn." He frowned.
"I'm not exactly a pro at this. How do you tell if a cantaloupe is
ripe?"

"You've come to the right place, actually,"
Malini said, taking the list from his hand. "I'm a natural. Leave
it to me. You do have money for this?"

"Of course."

"Good. No problem then." Malini walked ahead
while Jacob pushed the cart.

For some reason, he became concerned about
the wrinkles in his shirt and the fact that he'd forgotten to use a
comb after falling asleep at Dr. Silva's. Behind her back, he ran
his fingers through his hair, over his face, and down his shirt.
Malini's slender fingers reached for a cantaloupe and he noticed
the soft pink crescent of her nails against the silky bronze of her
skin. Funny, he'd never noticed before.

"Don't you have your own shopping to do?"
Jacob asked.

"No. Not really." She blushed. "I sometimes
come here when there's nothing else to do."

"Don't be embarrassed. I understand. You
don't like it here either."

"Not particularly. It's a bit rural for my
taste. I miss the culture of London."

It came as a sudden surprise to Jacob how
little he knew about her personally. He spoke with her every day.
They ate lunch together and studied after school. But it seemed
like their conversations had hovered around their classes and the
people of Paris. He'd neglected to ask Malini about herself.

"Is there anything you like to do here, in
your free time?"

"I read, listen to music, that sort of
thing. In the summer, I water-ski. I used to play soccer, at my old
school. They don't have a soccer team here."

"Soccer's cool. I play soccer."

"Really?"

"No. Not a lot. I've played before but I'm
no good."

She smiled and reached for a roll of paper
towels.

"What type of music do you like?" she
asked.

"The hard stuff: alternative, metal, rock.
It just has to be fast and loud."

"Hmm. Don't you ever just want to
relax?"

"Sometimes, but then I don't listen to
music. You?"

"A little of everything. I just like music
that takes me to a different place. If it does that, it doesn't
matter what it is." She dropped a loaf of bread into the cart and
squinted up at him. "What's your favorite book?"

"I'm not a big reader. You?"

"Silas Marner"

"What…the classic?"

"Yeah, I know it's nerdy but it's my
favorite. I just love how Silas ends up with everything he ever
wanted even though he never knew he wanted it." She had stopped
shopping and was twisting the list between her fingers. "You really
don't read?"

"For school, that's about it."

Malini looked disappointed.

"I've read Silas Marner though," he added,
quickly. "We had to, for school. And, I liked it. I really
did."

She smiled and continued down the aisle,
tossing items into the basket. She had an innate ability to
decipher Aunt Carolyn's cryptic writing and, too soon for Jacob,
they were headed toward the checkout.

He watched as Malini unloaded the cart onto
the belt. She was wearing form-fitting jeans and a clingy pink
sweater that showed off her figure. He wasn't up on fashion but her
outfit seemed like something she'd brought from London. It didn't
fit in here, more like what you'd see on TV or in a big city.

It occurred to Jacob then, how beautiful she
was. Up until then, he'd thought of her only as a friend, a study
partner, and a co-conspirator. Today though, as the light filtered
in through the windows at the front of the store, he felt an odd
sort of fluttering in his stomach. He guessed it was because, for
the first time, he realized she was a girl.

But he knew he
shouldn't
like
Malini, not in that way. If he messed up their friendship, he
could lose what he cared about most in Paris—her. Life here might
be intolerable without her.

Jacob reached down to help her empty the
cart and their fingers brushed. Malini's eyes shot up, warm
chocolate with flecks of gold and red that danced in the sunlight.
He caught himself staring for seconds too long. He swallowed
hard.

"What Jacob? I've got it." She placed a loaf
of bread on the conveyor belt. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry."

"That'll be eighty-six eighty," the woman
behind the counter said. Jacob counted out the money and then
lifted both bags into his arms before Malini could try to help. He
led the way out into the parking lot, stepping over the large
puddles that had collected from the storm that now rumbled
harmlessly in the distance.

"I can help you with that," she said,
pointing at the bags.

"No, no, I've got it. I was supposed to meet
my uncle back at the shop but we were so fast I'm not sure he'll be
done. Do you want to hang out at McNaulty's if he's not?"