Discovering (10 page)

“Kind of like with me.”

Odelia smiles. “Kind of. When I got here, I really began to discover who I was.”

“You mean . . . that you were a psychic. And could see the dead. And . . . all that.”

“That’s what I mean. Sound familiar?”

Calla nods. “Were you seeing spirits, then?”

“Yes. Especially Aunt Katie’s.”

“Did she have dark, dark hair and wear it in a bun?”

Odelia smiles fondly. “You’ve seen pictures?”

“I’ve seen her.”Only in Lily Dale would an admission like that not raise an eyebrow.

“Here?”Gammy looks surprised.

“In the window. Just now.”

“Really? She doesn’t come around all that often anymore. I miss her. I loved our little visits.”

Only in Lily Dale,
Calla can’t help thinking again.

Only in Lily Dale do people speak of spirits dropping in the way they might mention a friend coming for tea.

“Anyway,”her grandmother goes on with her tale, “Jack and I settled in here with the baby, and he found work at the steel plant down in Dunkirk. It wasn’t long before I really found my calling— I discovered who I was and what I could do, and eventually, I accepted myself. Which is right about the time Jack also discovered who I was—and did the opposite.”

“Rejected you?”

“Yes. He just couldn’t take it— the spiritualism, and everything that went with it. He thought I was nuts— even when things happened, things he witnessed with his own eyes. Who knows? Maybe he thought
he
was nuts, too. Maybe when he left us, he checked himself into an asylum somewhere.”

“You mean he just . . . took off?”

“In the middle of the night. Yup. Left a note that said
You’re better off this way.
That was it. I thought the note was meant for Stephanie . . . but I guess it was for both of us. He left both of us. Your mother was too young to remember, thank God.”

“She never talked about it. Or him.”

“No. She never did. I was always worried that it damaged her somehow. And frankly, I was shocked that he left the way he did. Not just me—left her. Whatever happened between the two of us, he loved that child. Doted on her from the moment she was born. She looked just like him, and had so many of his mannerisms. He liked to say she was a chip off the old block. I guess I’m just lucky he didn’t take her with him when he disappeared.”

“You never heard from him again?”

“Nope.”She shrugs, takes off her sunglasses, wipes them— and then her eyes—on the hem of her denim shirt.

“Are you okay, Gammy?”Calla touches her shoulder.

“Sure. It’s been a long time, you know . A lifetime. And this sort of thing does happen around here. Believe me, Jack’s not the first person to ever take off and not look back.”

Thinking of Darrin—and of her friend Blue Slayton’s mother—Calla nods slowly. “Why do they leave, do you think?”

“Jack left because he was weak. Plain and simple. I can’t speak for anyone else. Actually, I probably shouldn’t even be speaking for Jack . . . but . . . well, I knew him. I knew why he left.”

“What do you think ever happened to him?”

“Oh, he’s back in Pittsburgh. Remarried, with grown kids and grandkids. Still a steelworker, after all these years.”

“How do you know that?”

Odelia raises an eyebrow at her. “Let’s put it this way. If someone like me really wants to find someone . . . they can usually be found.
Capisce
?”

Calla nods slowly.
“Capisce.”

If someone like me really wants to find someone . . . they can
usually be found.

Someone like Odelia, Calla thinks. . . .

And someone like me.

Upstairs in her room, Calla types in her mother’s e-mail password.

L-E-O-L- Y-N.

Her hand trembling on the key, she hits Enter, then waits for the mail files to load.

It doesn’t take long.

Her breath seems deafening in her own ears as she scrolls up through the archives, back to last winter.

She forces herself to reread the first exchange between her mother and Darrin, when they were rediscovering each other after all those years, and making secret plans to meet in Boston.

Then she opens the first contact that came after. The one she couldn’t go on reading the other day.

Darrin (like I told you, I can never call you Tom, no matter what you want me to do, sorry!)— seeing you yesterday was incredible, despite everything. You said you wanted me to think about what you told me, about what happened back then, and I’ve done nothing but that since you left me at the airport. A part of me can’t believe it really even happened, but I know you wouldn’t lie. Yes, you made some mistakes—terrible mistakes— but I understand why you did what you did. You were a kid, and afraid, and you thought you were doing what was best for me, and for you, and for our child.

That was where Calla left off before.

Now, she takes a deep breath and keeps reading.

Do you remember what a nightmare it was, the two of us alone in Leolyn Woods, with me giving birth to a baby no one even knew we were expecting? Sometimes I can’t believe it really happened. I was scared out of my mind. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t think straight. I don’t remember much of it, other than when you told me the baby hadn’t made it.

Calla gasps and covers her mouth with her hand.

The baby hadn’t made it.

Oh, no. Please, no.

She rereads the lines again, and then again, just to be sure.

Her eyes fill with tears for the loss of a sister or brother she had never even known.

And now I never will.

I told you I was devastated, and I really was—but there was a part of me that might have been a tiny bit relieved, too. I’ve never forgiven myself for that. How could I feel that way? How could I be so selfish? Now that I’m a mother, I question that every day of my life. If anything ever happened to my daughter, I wouldn’t want to live. I would give my life for her. Yet there was a time when I was secretly grateful that I wouldn’t have to be a mother.

All I could think was that no one would ever have to know . We could go back to our normal lives. We had managed to hide it all those months, but I knew once the baby came, the whole town would be talking. Now no one would ever even know I had been pregnant.

But we didn’t get back to normal. When you left, Darrin, my life was over. How could you just disappear?

I know you want to tell me all about it. Maybe I should have let you keep talking the other night, but I just couldn’t hear any more. Even now, I look into my heart for a way to forgive you. The only way I can do that is to forgive myself, too, for the relief I felt when you told me our baby had died.

I don’t know if I can forgive myself. I know I can never forget. Even now. Every day, when I lived in Lily Dale, I looked out at that lake and remembered what you had done. I kept picturing you wrapping our dead baby in a blanket and weighing it down with rocks and tossing it into the water. You said you did it to protect me, and I believed that—until you left. Then I felt like you had done it to protect only yourself. I knew I had to leave Lily Dale. I felt like everyone in town knew what had happened, like they were all looking at me.

I have to end this here. My daughter just came home from school. I hear her downstairs. I’ll talk to you soon. I do love you. And I will try to forgive you. Stephanie

Through eyes blurred with tears, Calla reads the e-mail again, and again, and again.

Then she closes the screen.

That’s enough for today.

Maybe it’s enough, period.

Now she knows why her mother left Lily Dale and never looked back.

Now her dream—or memory— of the argument between Mom and Odelia makes sense.

The only way to know for sure is to dredge the lake.

That’s what they were talking about. Dredging the lake to look for the baby’s remains.

Calla shudders.

So.

Her grandmother knew about the baby.

When—and how—did she find out?

Why didn’t she tell Calla? She’s had plenty of opportunities.

Well, she can’t stay silent about it forever.

I won’t let her,
Calla thinks, jaw set with grim determination.

NINE

Lily Dale
Tuesday, October 9
7:28 p.m.

“What’s the matter, Calla?”

She looks up from her mashed potatoes— artfully arranged around the edges of her plate, the better to hide the fact that she’s not eating them—to see both her father and grandmother watching her across the kitchen table.

“Nothing,”she lies, and cuts off a tiny chunk of meatloaf with her fork. She pops it into her mouth, chews, and smiles brightly.

See? I’m not quietly freaking out about my dead sibling being
dumped into the lake that’s right outside the doorstep.

Obviously not fooled, her grandmother presses a hand to her forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

“I’m not sick, Gammy.”

“You don’t have to have a fever to be sick.”Dad, his face tinted bright pink from his afternoon on the lake, looks concerned. “You haven’t said two words since we sat down.”

“I know .”She puts down her fork, giving up the charade. “I’m just . . . worried. You know . About math.”

A knowing gleam enters Odelia’s eyes behind her pink-framed glasses. She says nothing, going back to her own mashed potatoes and meatloaf.

“What about math?”

“I got a D on a test,”she tells her father, and it’s his turn to look sick.

“I don’t blame you for being worried. That’s not good.”

“No kidding.”

“After dinner,”he says, “you and I are going to work on math together.”

“Actually, Dad, I already have a study partner. Willow York is helping me.”

“You can never have too many study partners.”

“Dad, you don’t have to—”

“What else have I got to do?”He spears a green bean with his fork.

“I don’t know . . . isn’t Ramona waiting for you to get back over there?”

Dad looks up from his plate. “Does it bother you?”

Odelia, conspicuously silent, pours herself more cream soda.

“Does what bother me?”

“That I’m staying next door with Ramona?”

“No, it’s fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “Does it bother you that we . . . went fishing today?”

“Why would it?”

“I don’t know . Maybe it would. And that would be understandable, because—”

“Knock-knock,”a voice calls through the open screen at the front door.

Ramona.

The three of them look at one another.

It’s Odelia who calls, “Come on in!”

Moments later, Ramona enters the kitchen, carrying a loaf of banana bread. “I thought you might want this for dessert. I always make two.”

“That’s sweet of you. Thank you, Ramona.”Odelia takes it from her and carries it over to the counter. “Have a seat. Did you eat dinner?”

“The kids and I had wings. I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just—”

“No, stay,”Dad says, and pulls out the empty chair between his and Calla’s.

“Are you sure?”

“Sit down, Ramona.”Odelia opens a cupboard door. “I’m making coffee.”

Ramona looks at Calla. “How are you, sweetie?”

“I’m great,”she lies. “Thanks for bringing the banana bread.”

As if that’s all the encouragement she needs, Ramona settles into a chair with a jangle of gypsy jewelry.

She’s dressed slightly more conservatively than usual, though, Calla notices. Instead of one of her flowing dresses or skirts, she’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt—although it’s a tie- dye one. She’s got makeup on.

Dad is obviously really glad to see her. He looks happy all of a sudden. Happy like Calla hasn’t seen him in a long, long time.

Calla can’t help but forgive him for kissing Ramona. After all they’ve been through, he does deserve happiness— maybe someone to lean on now and then.

Suddenly, she wants—needs—to talk to Jacy. She pushes back her chair. “I’m going up to my room. Good night, everyone.”

“What about the banana bread?”her grandmother asks. “And I was thinking we could play cards.”

“I’ve really got a lot of homework to do, Gammy.”

“Now that’s dedicated.”Ramona gives an approving nod. “That’ll be the day when Evangeline passes up dessert to study. She’s only home right now because I made her stay and finish her social studies project that’s due in the morning.”

“I’ll come and help you with your math,”her father offers, looking about as reluctant to skip dessert with Ramona as Calla is to have him come upstairs with her.

“I’ve got to write an essay for English, Dad, actually. We can work on math tomorrow.”