The kids finished up their worksheets just as the bell rang. She held up her hands before everyone went streaming from the room.
“I want you all to know what a great year this has been, and I’m going to miss you,” she said. “Please remember to say hi to me in the halls next year, okay?”
They nodded and chuckled, and she finally let them go.
The school cleared out a lot faster than it usually did, and she was left sitting at her desk in echoing silence. It was a little bit eerie to go from cacophony to utter stillness in just a matter of a few minutes. She sat there and listened to the quiet, wondering what new faces she’d be teaching the following year and how her students from this year would progress. She had nothing but the best wishes for each of them, but a few extra wishes went to those who were having a hard time.
And maybe a couple of them went in Kent Morgan’s direction too.
She hadn’t seen him since the Bread Incident. Every time she’d gone to the store after that, she’d looked around cautiously in case there was any sign of him—she had a plan in mind in case that ever did happen again. She would leave the store by any means possible, including leaving her cart in the middle of the produce section and sneaking out through the delivery entrance. She just couldn’t embarrass herself that way again. Once was enough.
But over a period of weeks, she let her guard down because running into him had turned out to be a fluke. She didn’t know his work schedule—or even what he did for work—but it was definitely fine with her if he did his shopping at a different time, or even at a different place. Definitely fine. It helped preserve her sanity. Whatever was left of it to preserve.
***
Andy pulled his jacket up around his ears and tiptoed outside, his arms full of something . . . maybe a bulging pillowcase or some other kind of sack. He edged around the corner of a nearby bunkhouse and then across the grass to the stables, where he buried the sack in the hay up in the loft. Then he crept back the way he’d come, went inside, and disappeared.
***
“So, how are all my girls?” their dad asked during Sunday lunch. Marti was home from college for the summer now and not just the weekend, and Jessica wondered just how much of her laundry their mother would end up doing. Marti and her laundry were somewhat of a family joke—she hated doing the task herself, and Barbara loved doing things for her children. Hence why big bags of laundry often came home for visits—er, Marti came too, of course.
“Good,” they each murmured. He liked to ask questions while their mouths were full.
Jessica looked around the table and wondered if she should say anything about the weird dreams she’d been having. She knew her family loved and supported her, but they’d probably also think she was crazy. The fact that the dream from the night before hadn’t been about Kent was a good sign, to her way of thinking—it meant that she wasn’t obsessed with some guy who was practically a stranger. No, she wouldn’t say anything—it didn’t seem like that big of a deal.
Peter, their cousin, had come by for lunch, along with his fiancée, Lillian. They were such a great couple together, and Lillian was awesome—she’d agreed to marry Peter even knowing that he was a seventh son, and that meant he’d have seven sons as well. It was just a thing in their family that had been going on for zillions of generations. For some reason, the thought hadn’t scared her off, and she’d fit in with the McClains from the first minute.
“How are you, Peter?” their dad said, turning his attention down the length of the table.
Peter smiled, but it seemed a little forced. “Doing all right, but we had an incident on the ranch last night that’s left us a little sober today.”
“What kind of incident?” Candice asked. She had moved back home while she looked for an apartment, but that search wasn’t going well, and it seemed she might be hanging out there for a while.
“One of the boys was caught stealing. He had taken a bunch of things from the other boys and was hiding them away so he could sell them later. I had a feeling something was going on and we kept an eye on him last night. Sure enough, a whole sack full of stuff had been taken.”
“Andy?” Jessica blurted without thinking.
Peter tilted his head. “Yes, it was Andy. How did you know?”
“He’s seemed a little off at school for the last few months,” Jessica said. She could tell the truth without telling the whole truth, couldn’t she?
Peter nodded. “Something’s been brewing for a while. I wasn’t able to put my finger on anything specific until last night, though.”
As a seventh son, Peter had special abilities, and it didn’t surprise Jessica to hear that he’d known something was going on. “What happens to him now?”
“My dad made him give everything back and apologize to each boy face to face. He’s still not quite sure what to do—Andy’s never done anything like this before, and Dad doesn’t want to come down too hard on him, but he also doesn’t want to be too easy on him either.”
Gaylynn nodded. “It’s a tough call, especially considering his background.” None of the boys at the McClain Boys’ Ranch had easy lives—they were there as an alternative to juvenile detention or foster care. “Your dad will make the right call, though. He always does.”
“Thanks, Gaylynn.” Peter gave her a smile and went back to eating, but not before he gave Jessica a curious look. She wondered if he sensed anything odd going on with her.
She tried to finish her potato salad, but it kept getting stuck in her throat. She’d known what Andy was doing—she’d seen it in her dream.
Her dream. Her stupid dream. She’d thought it was caused by the headache she’d had before she went to bed. And maybe it was—who knew.
Barbara had made chocolate cake for dessert, and as Jessica helped cut and serve it, she let her mind wander. Something was going on here, some sort of pattern, and as she thought back, it all fell into place one piece at a time.
Back in March, she and her sisters had been gathered here together and experienced the Zap. That night, she’d had a headache, and she’d also had a strange dream. Each time after that, when she’d had a dream, she’d found out that her dream was coming true.
No—wait. She’d dreamed about Kent and Jake for the first time around midnight, and Kent had said Jake had come in around midnight. Her second dream about Kent came during an afternoon nap, and it was afternoon in her dream. She knew that from the light in his bedroom, and also the fact that when Jake came in, Kent had asked him about school. Last night’s dream about Andy had taken place late at night. Was she dreaming about things as they happened?”
She turned to Peter, who was clearing plates off the table. “What time did Andy hide the things in the barn?”
“Around one in the morning . . . but I never said he hid them in the barn.” Peter glanced around, and so did Jessica. Everyone else was busy helping to clean up after the meal, and no one seemed to be listening to them. He took a step closer to her. “Are you all right, Jessica?”
“I am.” She gave him a smile. “No big deal.”
He nodded, then turned back to clear the table, but he clearly wasn’t convinced. She should have known he’d pick up that something was going on, but he’d tell her if he knew what it was. She knew that about him. And if he didn’t have any advice for her, she was probably a hopeless case.
Chapter Five
Jessica spent the first week of summer vacation doing what she did the first week of every summer vacation—she caught up. On everything. She did all her laundry, cleaned her house, went through her pantry and stocked up, and she slept. Everything that had been lagging was now back under control.
Maybe the most important thing she bought at the store was a notebook and some gel pens. She sat down one afternoon and charted out everything that had happened since the Zap so she could see the pattern laid out in front of her. First, a headache. Then, a dream. Then, finding out that the dream was about a real thing that had taken place at t
he same time she was dreaming. Like, she was peering through space to look in on someone’s life. That was kind of creepy, in a way. Why and how was she spying on these people?
The next thing she realized was that she had a personal connection with each of these people. The first was about her sister Heather, and the others were about students in her class. Well, when she’d dreamed about Kent, Jake seemed like an afterthought, but that was probably just a glitch in . . . whatever this was. She wasn’t sure.
She’d had a dream that her next-door neighbor was lonely, so she went over the next day with some cookies, and they’d had a great visit. But what was the purpose of all of the rest of it? And there was one dream that still had her baffled.
She went over to Heather’s house that Saturday night to watch their favorite TV shows together, and during a commercial, she turned to her sister and said, “Do you like using crayons?”
Heather blinked. “Crayons? Sure, I guess. It’s been a long time, though—I think I was eleven or twelve last time I colored. Why do you ask?”
Jessica shrugged. “No reason. Oh, look—The Love Boat is coming back on.”
When she got back to her house that night, she put a question mark next to her dream about Heather. She had no idea what it meant, and it might not even be connected to the other dreams. It had looked the same, though—it had the same sort of feel, and Jessica had no way of knowing what made it different.
The beginning of the second week of summer, Jessica moved on to her next project—yardwork. This was the part of owning her own home that drove her nuts. She enjoyed being alone when she wanted to be—after growing up with six sisters, that was natural—but all the maintenance was exhausting. Sadly, her yard largely went neglected during the school year, and she tried to make up for nine months’ worth of overgrowth in just three months’ time. She’d hired a neighbor boy to come mow it every so often—that was the only thing keeping it from turning into Tarzan’s jungle.
She pulled her hair into a rubber band and went outside, ready to evaluate. Sure enough, the flowerbeds were a total mess, the two little apple trees were filled with dead branches, and there were tufts of grass in places where the lawnmower couldn’t reach. She sighed. Fine—she’d start by weeding.
After going back inside for a boom box and an extension cord, she got to work on the flowerbed that ran along the fence. If she started out there and worked toward the house, she’d feel like she was making strides toward being more presentable.
She had only been working for about fifteen minutes when a Hyundai drove by, turned, and came back, parking in front of her house.
“Miss McClain?”
She looked up to see that Kent Morgan had gotten out of the car and was now leaning on the top rail of her fence. “Oh, hi.”
“I was just driving by and noticed you out here. I swear, I had no idea you lived on this street.”
She brushed off her hands and stood up. “I don’t know—it sounds to me like you’re trying to convince me that you’re not a stalker.”
“I’m not—I absolutely promise you.” Then he studied her face and grinned. “You’re teasing me.”
“I never tease. It’s far beneath me. Kind of like weeding, which I also never do. As you can tell.” She motioned around with a helpless shrug.
Kent laughed. “I tell you what—I was just going to pick up Jake at his grandmother’s house. Why don’t I bring him back here, and we can help with your yard for a little while?”
Two conflicting feelings rushed over Jessica at his words—first, relief that she would have some help, and second, awkwardness at putting him out. “Are you sure? This isn’t a simple fix.”
“That’s why you shouldn’t do it alone. We’ll be back in less than an hour.”
Kent got in his car and drove away before she could think of excuses to turn him away, and in truth, she didn’t want to turn him away. Not only was he going to make this horrible task easier, but it was good to see him again.
She went inside and mixed up a couple of cans of frozen lemonade, then went in the bathroom to try to look a little less like a creature of the swamp. How had she gotten so dirty after just fifteen minutes of work? She’d smudged dirt on her left cheek, and there was another smudge on her chin. She washed her face, then took out her rubber band and made her ponytail look less messy. That was all she was going to do—yes, she wanted to look a little nicer, but this was yardwork, and it would be silly to dress up for it. Even if her helper was really good-looking.
She went back to work, and by the time Kent and Jake showed up, she was nearly done weeding the first flower bed. Kent had changed from a polo shirt into a T-shirt and shorts, and she absolutely refused to notice how nicely his shoulders fit in that shirt. That was so cliché—every romance novel she’d ever read referred to the way the hero’s shoulders filled out his shirt, and even though this wasn’t a romance novel, she would not fall into that same trap.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she told them as she unlatched the gate and let them in. “How are you doing, Jake?”
“Fine, Miss McClain.” He met her eyes as he spoke, which was definitely progress.
“Where would you like us to start?” Kent asked.
Jessica motioned around. “Take your pick—there’s a ton of possibilities here.”
Kent laughed. “Yes, there are. Jake, why don’t you start on the far end of this bed and I’ll start on this end—we’ll meet in the middle.”
“Okay,” Jake said, moving down toward the end.
Jessica was pleased to see that Kent had chosen a spot not too far off from where she was working. She decided to use this chance to get to know him a little better. “I realized I don’t know much about you and Jake,” she said.
“Well, let’s see.” Kent pulled up a particularly large weed and tossed it onto the grass. “We live about a quarter mile from here—bought the house three years ago. They’re doing construction on the end of our street and put up a detour, which is how I happened to come this way and run into you.” The grin he flashed her was pretty irresistible. “I work as an accountant, but I’m also an aspiring songwriter—or I guess I’m not aspiring anymore. I sold a song a few months ago.” He paused. “Actually, that’s what I was doing that day I saw you at the restaurant—I was selling my song to a producer.”
“Really? That’s great! Has it been recorded yet? Is it on the radio?”
“No, not yet, but it’s in the works. Billy Blaine is going to sing it. But that’s a secret—don’t tell anyone yet.”
Her jaw dropped. “Billy Blaine? He’s my favorite country singer.”
“It’s pretty great, right?” Kent grinned again. “I’ve been on cloud nine about it, but I can’t say anything until it’s released. Thankfully, that should be soon, and I’ll be put out of my misery. Except no, I won’t, because then I’ll be wondering if people liked the song.”
“I haven’t heard Billy sing anything sub-par—he seems to have great taste. I’m sure everyone will love it.” Jessica was more than fine with keeping his secret, but now she wanted to know more, including how he’d gotten started writing music and if he himself sang. She held back from peppering him with questions, though. This was the first personal conversation they’d had, and she didn’t want to weird him out with her need to know everything.
“Thanks. I’ve got my hopes up, that’s for sure.” He pulled a few more weeds in silence, then said, “I just wish Amy had been around to see it happen. She was my biggest supporter.”
“She died last year?” Jessica probed gently.
“About eighteen months now. She had leukemia.”
Jessica didn’t have a reply to that, so she just nodded. The loss was still evident on his face, and there really wasn’t a reply to be made.
“We had just enough time to take a few trips and create some memories, and then she was gone. She insisted that we take pictures of everything we did—she said we’d want them someday, and she was right.
” He chuckled. “I don’t know how much we spent developing film, but it was worth it.”
“I enjoyed the essay Jake wrote about his mom last spring,” Jessica said. “I could tell there were a lot of tender feelings.”
“Jake wrote an essay about his mom?” Kent glanced over at his son, who had turned on his Walkman and was hard at work. He must not care for the station she’d chosen on her boom box. “I didn’t know that.”
“You might ask him if he still has it.”
“I think I will.” Kent moved down about a foot, then turned to look at her. “So, you’re related to the McClains who run the ranch, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Jonathan McClain is my uncle.”
“Is that ranch really everything they say?”
She paused, unsure how to answer that. Because of the special gifts that ran through the men of the family, rumors sometimes circulated that the McClains were odd, and she didn’t know if that’s what he was talking about.
“I keep hearing about their track record, how they can take boys in hard situations and help turn them around.”
“Yes, absolutely true,” Jessica replied, glad that he’d asked an easy question. She wouldn’t have known how to answer if he’d asked anything else.
“Do they ever work with boys who don’t live at the ranch? Like, an outpatient program . . . not that Jake would be a patient or anything,” Kent rushed on to explain. “I was just wondering if there were any activities that Jake could get involved in. I’ve heard they teach a lot of stuff about life skills, for instance.”
“I’m not aware of any classes that they offer to the public, but I’ll ask my uncle,” Jessica replied. “I’m sure he’d be more than willing to have Jake out for an afternoon here and there.” As soon as she spoke, she realized she couldn’t make that kind of promise. Jonathan might have reasons for not including boys who weren’t part of the program—insurance liabilities might come into play. “But I’ll find out for sure,” she amended. “I could be wrong.”
Jessica (Seven Sisters Book 2) Page 3
