When Autumn Leaves: A Novel (30 page)

“I still don’t think it’s right that you make this conditional. You have to go to Callum, it’s the right thing to do. It would be downright mean if you didn’t.” Molly sighed. “But, unrelated, I will go and see whoever you want me to. It’s time, I suppose.”

“Excellent.” Sylvie smiled broadly. “I’ll call Autumn and set up a time for us to go to her together, all right?”

Molly nodded. They both knew she had the better deal by far. Molly wouldn’t want to be in Sylvie’s shoes for all the money in the world.

To distract herself all day, Sylvie cleaned the house from top to bottom, rigorously checked Siobhan’s homework, and even tried to get through some homework of her own. She did laundry, she made muffins, she washed the floors. All through the day she had kept her anxiety in check with hard work.

When the house grew as quiet and dark as the night outside, Sylvie lit a candle that smelled like cranberries and pumpkins. She lay on her bed in a white, sheer nightgown and watched the flame throw shadows around the room. It took a long while to center herself, for her breathing to grow steady and deep. She had no idea where Callum might be. She knew his next show was south, somewhere in Oregon, so she focused on that particular element to guide her. Since the connection had been made, since she had already found him once, she knew she could do so again. She felt that familiar click of her body letting go and she went.

Sylvie found herself in another hotel room. This one was bigger and more lavish than the previous one. He was sleeping, half-naked. The sight of his bare skin, the defined muscles on his torso, took her breath away. She didn’t want to talk to him at all, she wanted to climb underneath the sheet beside him, she wanted to touch every inch of his body and open herself up so he could fill her. But she couldn’t, she was simply a projection. There was no substance to her form.

“Callum?” she said softly. There was no way that she could do this without scaring him senseless. She imagined what it would be like if she awoke to a figure at the foot of her bed; she would have been terrified. He opened up his eyes and turned. Instead of jumping up, like she thought he would do, he sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes.

“You’re back.”

“Yes, I am. Umm.” She tried to fight her nerves, and at the same time stop gawking at his beautiful face, so close to her, again. “I’m, um, I’m pretty sure you’re really pissed at me, and you have every right to be. I only came back because I owe you a huge apology and because I don’t know any other way to reach you, and then I promise I’ll go.”

He got up from the bed. “I know you’re not the girl who died. Her name was Lisa, Lisa Took. You’re Sylvie, right?”

“Yes, Sylvie. Sylvie Shigeru.” She shook her head, trying to keep her voice steady. “I didn’t know last night that anyone had died. My friend and I left before it all happened.”

“You left early? Why?”

She was prepared for anger, and even a degree of curiosity, but not the gentle tone of his voice. “My friend, she gets these feelings, premonitions, really. She dragged me off, but I didn’t want to go. I had been waiting to hear you sing for years.”

“So you’re not a ghost, you’re real?” He crossed his arms over his chest, like they were having an everyday conversation. “You’re a real person who can . . . what? What is it exactly that you can do?”

“Well, technically, it’s called astral projection,” Sylvie said carefully. When was he going to realize she had essentially broken into his hotel room? When was he going to become irate or creeped out? “I can project my . . . I don’t know, my spirit, I guess, out of my body and I can go places.”

“Really? That’s wild. I mean, I’ve read about it. But I didn’t think it was actually real. I’d love to be able to do that.”

“You could, anyone can, you just have to be taught. I mean, for some people, like me, it’s natural, but anyone is capable.” She was getting sidetracked. She was really only there to apologize. “That’s not why I’m here though. I’m not part of some wacky cult or anything, and I’m not a stalker, which all things considered, you probably don’t believe. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, for invading your space. It was wrong of me, I never should have come, and it won’t happen again.”

He cocked his head. “But why did you come to begin with?”

“I think you know, Callum,” she answered, embarrassed.

“Yeah, I think I do, but I want to hear it from you.”

Why not tell him? This whole sequence wouldn’t amount to much more than a dream tomorrow, anyway. “Because you’re amazing, because you’re a rock star, because you move me. There are probably a million girls on the planet who would do anything to be where I am right now.” Luckily, she didn’t tell him she loved him; that would have been really awkward. She made herself breathe. “But I took advantage of this ability I have. The real truth is that last night, I’m not sure I could have stopped myself even if I wanted to. I just never thought . . .” Sylvie trailed off, unable to continue.

“What?”

“I never thought you’d be able to see me. Most people can’t.”

“Really?” His expression was almost smug. “So why do you think I can?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone really understands how this works. Most times I float around and go unnoticed. I thought if I could just see you, I could make a kind of peace with that.” She looked down at her feet, feeling inexcusable. “I’m getting this all wrong. I just wanted to apologize, that’s all. And now I really do sound like a stalker.”

He laughed. “Hey, there are worse things in the world than being stalked by a beautiful girl who has this amazing ability to fly out of her body any time she wants to. What else can you do, Sylvie?” The question lingered in the air. She had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about anything spiritual at all. In fact, she got the distinct impression that he was flirting with her.

“Don’t you want me to leave? Aren’t you pissed off?” she asked.

He laughed again, totally at ease. She wished she were as relaxed. “Listen, I’m a guy who likes his privacy. But there’s something about you . . . something special. It seems crazy, but maybe I can see you because I’m meant to see you.”

Sylvie didn’t know what to say.

“Why don’t you tell me something about yourself, why don’t you tell me who you are?” Callum asked.

“I’m only seventeen, I don’t really know who I am yet,” she answered tentatively.

“Seventeen? Shit, that could be trouble. You seem so much older.”

“I’ll be eighteen next month. But my mom passed away this summer, and I think that’s had a pretty big effect on me.” Callum sat back down on the bed, and Sylvie did too, but sat so she was facing him.

“My mom died too, when I was twelve. She was in a car accident. How did your mom die?”

“Well . . .” Sylvie couldn’t believe she was about to tell him. “That’s a whole other story.”

They talked for a very long time. And it felt like Sylvie had known him forever. Of course she did have the advantage. She had lived with his music and words for years. But the man she sat with that night was pretty normal; he was funny, he had a knack for being self-deprecating and egotistical all at once. He wasn’t a diva; he didn’t need attention all the time, or praise, which surprised her. She liked him. She would have liked him if he had a normal job; in fact, she was beginning to wish he did. It would have made things a lot less complicated.

That night had been a gift, and if she never saw him or spoke to him again, the memory of it would have been enough to carry her throughout her life. It would remind her about the power of belief and faith. But of course she hoped very much that she would see him again. She wasn’t nearly that spiritual.

Just before she left, Callum said, “How can I reach you? I mean, if this isn’t a dream. Can I call you or something?”

For a moment, Sylvie was tempted to simply leave without giving away anything else. The night had been so magical, she didn’t think it could be recreated. She was afraid that the real her would somehow disappoint him. Then she chided herself. What kind of a moron wouldn’t give her phone number away to the coolest guy she’d ever met because she was afraid? So she said the numbers and he wrote them down. Then she gave him what she hoped was her most seductive smile, and went.

Sylvie awoke feeling peaceful and rested. She did not remember floating back into her own body and she wondered, like Callum, if it had really happened at all. Her candle had burned away to nothing, and she felt a pang of guilt for being so irresponsible. That’s all she needed on top of everything, to burn the house down.

It was early, and a school day. She would have to go and wake her father and sister. But maybe not just yet. Maybe she should sit in Piper’s garden and tell her mother everything. Wherever she was, Sylvie was sure she would love to hear the story, and perhaps love even more the look on her daughter’s face, and the music in her words as she told it. She got up and stretched, looking down briefly at the phone by her bed. He would call, when the time was right. She pulled on her dressing gown and made her way downstairs and into the morning outside.

Autumn opened her door that afternoon to find Siobhan Shigeru standing on the stoop, her fist raised to knock. “Come in, dear,” Autumn said, wrapping her hand around that small fist like a mitten. “You’re starving. Let me fix you a snack.”

“It’s OK,” Siobhan told her. “I have to get home and finish my homework. I just wanted to give you this,” she said, proffering a neat package of a stapled word processed document, which had been printed, childishly but endearingly, on rainbow printer paper.

Autumn was already leading Siobhan inside by the hand. “I just baked oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.”

“Those are my favorite,” Siobhan said, only half-reluctantly. Autumn already knew; that’s why she’d baked them.

Once she had seated the girl at her kitchen table and put a well-stocked plate in front of her, Autumn decided to break the ice. “So this lovely essay here is your entry to my contest, I assume.”

“Yeah.” Siobhan swallowed a mouthful of chocolate.

“I’m very glad you’re entering.”

Siobhan blinked at her, clearly weighing something. “There is one thing.”

“Your sister?”

Siobhan nodded vigorously. “I mean, I’m not trying to . . . you know, compete with her. It’s just that . . . I know she’s been practicing with you for so long, and, you know, she already knows she’s got something special. So I thought, maybe . . . maybe if it, like, runs in the family, maybe I could learn to be special, too. So I thought, like, I should try.” Her voice trailed off, but when she looked up from her plate, her eyes were sharp and fiery.

“You should almost always try, Siobhan.” Autumn was impressed by the energy she saw in the girl’s face. Siobhan might be a later bloomer than her sister, but she sure as heck was going to bloom.

“There’s one more thing.” Siobhan put down the half of a cookie still in her hand and looked Autumn intensely in the eye. “It’s going to help me get to my mother, isn’t it? Entering your contest. It’s going to help me get to that place she said she was going, so I can see her.”

Autumn shivered as a ripple of prophecy passed through the room. Yes, this girl was going to be very powerful. Someday. “Well, I can’t tell you that. I simply don’t know the answer.” Autumn saw Siobhan’s mouth set sulkily. “But I do imagine your mother would have wanted both your sister and you to enter the contest. I know that she believed, or rather, believes, that something would help you see her again.”

Siobhan nodded again, her black ponytail swinging. “Thanks,” she said. “I had a feeling you’d say something like that.” She stood up. “I have to go home. Can I take some cookies, though?”

“As many as you want.” Autumn smiled as Siobhan stuck a napkin full of cookies in her jacket pocket and waved good-bye. Inside, though, Autumn felt an inevitable swell of regret. There was a future great talent she would only be able to watch from a distance.