Law of Attraction

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Lenore perched beside her, her eyes alight. “Seems our prayers have been answered, girls. Kyle just called, so flustered he could hardly talk. Over the weekend, he sent an e-mail to an address I found for him, and today he heard back. Patty McCormick Sayler—your mother—has contacted him. After all these years!”

  Angie’s crochet hook clattered to the floor. “Is she coming to Harmony Falls?”

  “Does she know Angie’s here?” Elena grabbed her hands and squeezed them. “See, chica? The power of prayer—that love we sent out the other day—it has come back to you.”

  “The Law of Attraction at its finest,” Lenore agreed. She patted Angie’s knee. “I didn’t pry, as Kyle seemed overwhelmed at this turn of events. But he was terribly pleased. I sense he’ll reveal more after he’s replied to her.”

  Angie’s thoughts began to spin, and she gave up all hope of concentrating on crochet lessons. Her mother’s name was Patty Sayler now…

  “Like you, your father is a private person. Gregarious in social situations, yet prone to locking away his true feelings.” Her mentor’s face glowed with love and understanding. “And like you, he faces challenges head-on once he commits to a course of action. The tide’s turning for both of you now, dear. You’ll see!”

  Like you, your father…Angie had to adjust to hearing those words in the context of Kyle Iverson, rebel carpenter, rather than the Bill Cavanaugh she’d always been compared to. She had to consider a mother other than sturdy, dependable Helen, a mother who’d kept a very big secret for nearly forty years.

  Would Kyle and Patty see each other? What if the fire they’d known as teenagers flared between them again? Or would they discover they had absolutely nothing in common?

  And where did she fit into these scenarios?

  Twenty-Two

  ANGIE was helping Elena peel apples for coffee cakes when a soft knock made them look up. Elliott James gazed around the kitchen as he stepped inside, not seeing who he’d come for.

  “Dr. James! Come in. I’ll get Lenore,” the housekeeper assured him.

  “Tell her…it’s time to take Samantha. I’m ready.”

  The Latina took off, flicking her inky curls over her shoulder.

  Angie recognized the small box their visitor held as well as the hollow look around his eyes. “Lenore’s spreading fresh mulch in the gardens today,” she said as she extended her hand. “I’m Angie—”

  “And you’re the angel your name describes, too.” His handshake tightened as he flashed the best smile he could manage. “Those goodies you sent with me were wonderful. Thank you.”

  His quiet kindness struck her, when she was trying to be the considerate one. “Elena makes the best rolls—”

  “But it was your idea to share them with a man you hadn’t met. It speaks of generosity and an open heart, traits more folks should cultivate. So much of what our souls yearn to share gets shoved back, tamped down when we have second thoughts, you know. Then we suffer from the isolation that brings.”

  Spoken like a doctor, but a healer of souls as well as minds. Was Rita McQueen this man’s patient? She couldn’t help but wonder, but it wasn’t her place to ask. “Thank you,” she replied. “I worked at a hospice in Seattle. I hope I picked up some clues about how people need to be treated while they watch a loved one fade and pass on. How are you doing?”

  Elliott glanced toward the window. His lips twitched. “Not so well. I’d rather keep these ashes on my nightstand, but I’ll honor Sam’s wishes. We have…had a favorite place, at Hug Point. On sunny days, the light beams through the breaks in the rocks, and…well, you have to experience it to understand. I hope you’ll come with us?”

  Angie’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. If you prefer a circle of family and friends—”

  “Lenore and Ross. Elena and you, Angie. Ross will tell you that fours stand for foundations and stability, so the four of you can be my pillars,” he decided with a nod. “Sam will think it’s so ‘me’ to need support. A stronger man could go alone to carry out her final wish, but—”

  “You’re being awfully hard on yourself, Elliott. Samantha was your rock, and she knows it’s too soon for you to do well without her.” Lenore came in and enfolded him in her embrace. Elliott let out a shaky sigh. Rested his head on her shoulder until they heard another knock.

  Ross entered, his swarthy face somber, yet his eyes danced when he saw Angie. He winked, squeezing her shoulder. “Ready, guy? We’ll all fit in my car, if that works for you.”

  “Yeah. Got your horn?”

  “Better believe it.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  They were quiet during the short ride up the highway. Ross turned in at the roadside parking area where Angie had parked her Grand Prix for what she figured was the final time. Was it coincidence that a hug at Hug Point had pulled her away from the abyss? It seemed so poetic that Dr. James and Samantha had shared this as their favorite place.

  “Go on ahead. I’ll get my trumpet out of its case and catch up.” Ross trotted around to open the door for Elliott and then helped the three of them out of the back. Lenore and Elena flanked Dr. James as they headed down the hill, while Angie lingered behind.

  Had these trees and bushes looked so fresh and green that day she’d nearly walked out on life? Or had she been too confused to notice? So much had happened since then, this outburst of spring flowers seemed to celebrate the earth’s rebirth—and her own. The season of the soul taking wing.

  “This has to be the prettiest afternoon since I got here,” she remarked.

  Elliott turned around as though on cue. He pointed to the sky above her. “Look! It’s one of the yellow butterflies Samantha loved,” he rasped. “I can’t recall ever seeing them so early.”

  “I suspect Sam had something to do with that.” Lenore tucked her arm around Elliott’s and smiled as though she had an inside track on such happenings.

  Angie stood stock-still. Was this yet another sign? Or did these people consider every little thing an omen out of habit, just as Kyle lit a cigarette whenever he felt tense?

  Ross watched the butterfly flutter above her and then kissed her cheek. “Get used to it,” he teased. “No telling how many miracles you’ve kicked into play by coming here. First you gave me a reason to stand up to Rita, then you showed up as Kyle’s long-lost daughter, and now you’re attracting butterflies when Elliott needs them. Who knows what you might manifest next?”

  Is that how they saw it? Did they believe she’d brought goodness, when really she’d just been escaping an ex? Angie’s thoughts spun as they walked down the pavement, over the boulders, and onto the beach where she and Ross had met.

  The two of them fell in at the end of the procession Elliott led, stepping around a tall rock formation that jutted out into the ocean. By waiting for the next wave to recede, they could cross the wet sand and duck into an opening she hadn’t seen from the beach. Angie’s breath caught. Above them, beams of sunlight angled through a break in the top of the formation, which was hewed out like a cave. The back of the rugged room was heaped with stones the ocean had escorted in over the years. A huge boulder sat to one side, resembling an altar, and as Elliott clambered to the top of it, the sun shifted. His slender form glowed in the brightness, which illuminated the earthen hues around them. His white shirt shone as though it gave off its own light. He set the little carved box on the boulder and then knelt beside it.

  “I…I thought I’d figured out what to say,” he rasped. “Sam would’ve wanted something simple, but I’m afraid I’ll blubber—”

  “‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,’” Lenore began with quiet conviction. They all joined her in the Psalm, one Angie had recited since childhood, and although she sensed these friends had never before said it together, it bound them with its timeless simplicity and comfort.

  When they finished, Elliott was crying quietly while the rest of them swiped at tears. Lenore continued, “Lord, we commend the sou
l of Samantha back to you, from whom she came.” She spoke softly, yet the acoustics amplified her voice until it filled the cave. “We thank you that this is not an ending but rather the beginning of Samantha’s new form, her new self. And we marvel at the way all you have created imitates you as the alpha and the omega, in this world of no beginning and no end. A perfect circle. A wheel of life spinning while each of us rides its myriad spokes.”

  She paused to gaze at each of them and then raised her face to the sunlight, causing a glow resembling one in many religious paintings. “We ask your presence with us as we adjust to Sam’s absence. We beseech your special strength for Elliott, until we all meet again with you and those souls who have gone before us. Amen.”

  “Amen” reverberated reverently around the cave’s walls.

  Ross stepped toward the mouth of the cave and raised his trumpet. When he began to play, Angie grinned through her tears. Who would have anticipated the clear, sweet melody of “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam”? Yet it was precisely the right song for the moment. The words welled up from Sunday-school mornings of her childhood, a song of innocent belief that she was loved and that she was to shine just like the sunbeams that poured into this cave. As the lyrics came back to her, she heard them with a whole new perspective: that of Samantha, a woman who’d gone from this world to shine as a sunbeam, who would light Elliott’s life even on days when all he could see were clouds.

  Ross played gently, as though singing the simple words with his horn. His eyes closed, and as the light shimmered on his instrument, Angie saw another facet of him. He was a friend assisting at this memorial, yes, but he was also a man born to express his feelings in a universal language that touched every heart, every soul. While she’d loved watching him play ragtime and jazz, this poignant song set him apart as one who could be trusted with her deepest feelings. Her fears and her dreams, as well.

  As the final notes shimmered around them, they stood with their heads bowed. Lenore gestured silently toward the entryway. They paused in the ankle-deep water, then scurried around the rock again when the waves receded.

  “Let’s give Elliott a few moments alone.” Lenore breathed deeply, gazing across the deserted beach to the silvery sea, alive with diamonds. “I’ll invite him to spend the afternoon at the lodge—to stay for dinner, or the night, or however long he wants. He’s always been strong enough to deal with his patients’ needs, but it’s not enough to say ‘Physician, heal thyself’ right now. He looks like a lost puppy.”

  “Haunted and starving,” Elena agreed. “If we can stop by the market on the way home, I’ll pick up a fresh chicken and some Chablis. Fresh mushrooms, if they look nice. Remember how he and Samantha enjoyed that lemon chicken and the Greek salad last time they ate with us?”

  “Lemon chicken and white wine? Perfect!” Lenore declared. “Crusty Italian bread from the bakery, your double-chocolate mousse for dessert, perhaps? Why don’t you kids go on and get those groceries? I’ll use the walk back to convince Elliott he needs to indulge us tonight.”

  There it was again: Lenore arranging her schedule—her life—around those who needed her most. It was a wonderful thing to watch, and Angie was glad she’d come along for this memorial service. As Ross helped her into the passenger seat, a playful swat on her backside was further proof she’d turned her world around. He couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off her while they helped Elena shop at the local market and then returned to the lodge.

  “I’d tell you two to get a room,” the housekeeper teased, “but I’d lose my assistant. Stay for dinner, though, Ross. Poor Elliott, he won’t stand a chance, left alone among three chicas.”

  “And you think that’s why I’d stay?” He hefted the grocery bags toward the kitchen and winked at Angie. “It’s all about Elena, and how I love to watch a woman who knows her place—in the kitchen, flirting while she cooks and serves it up for me.”

  “I can see how you’d eat that up.” Angie laughed and set her sacks of food on the kitchen counter. “And what’s not to love about having three women pandering to your every whim? Amazes me that you didn’t move into a room here long ago.”

  Ross shrugged. “A wolf needs his lair, you know.”

  “Somewhere to scratch himself, and leave his clothes in heaps, and make crude noises,” Elena agreed. “That’s what a man does at home, no, chica?”

  Angie laughed out loud. Memories of Gregg doing all those things flitted through her mind, yet they dissipated like the steam from Elena’s double boiler. And as her pretty friend melted chocolate for the mousse and then placed chicken pieces in a casserole to marinate, Angie realized how easy this all was, how the conversation simply flowed here in this cheery kitchen with its cherry prints. While she had no illusions about Ross living differently than the typical guy when he was alone, she fantasized that when they were together he would behave as the perfect gentleman, the attentive lover, the—

  His utensils clattered to the table he was setting. With a devilish grin, he swept her into his arms and dipped her back, as though they were performing a grand tango. “I can feel what you’re thinking,” he reminded her in a husky voice. “Those hot-to-trot vibrations are coming through loud and clear, babe. And they excite me. You excite me.”

  Suspended in his arms, Angie gazed up into his intense blue eyes. It was a moment she wished would both last forever and continue toward the reality they saw in their fantasies. Her pulse thrummed with his. This sort of play could be part of her everyday life—if Ross were.

  Give him the chance. It’s the simple things, this playful back’ and-forth, that make life real. And he’s ready to be real.

  Her breath caught. Ross raised her slowly, his gaze riveted to hers as his strong arms steadied her. When she stood upright, he claimed a kiss that put it all together, turned a memorial service into a servicing that made memories she would always cherish. His mouth toyed with hers, making her giggle and go for more, oblivious to the world around them. She let her muscles relax, to fully experience his expertise. His kiss made her head spin, while her heart danced as well.

  When he eased away, the aromas of lemony oil and dark, sweet chocolate brought Angie back into the present. Elena hummed at the stove, pretending not to watch. Angie stood in Ross’s embrace, in the center of Lenore’s cozy kitchen, a room like the one she’d soon have in the bungalow on Windswept thanks to this man. Did life get any better? Did she dare to hope for sweet romance like this every day?

  The Latina housekeeper cleared her throat purposefully. “Lenore and Elliott, they are coming up the walk. Let’s look busy with dinner, to make him feel better, sí? If you two keep kissing each other, he’ll miss his Samantha more.”

  “Good point.” Ross gave Angie one last peck and then resumed setting the table for five.

  Were Lenore’s lessons soaking in? Or was she opening herself to the opportunities her mentor was so good at creating? “You know, if fives are about conflict, maybe we should round things out. Do…do you suppose Kyle would join us? He was picking up bathroom fixtures, then heading back to the house, so—”

  Ross whipped out his cell phone and hit a button. He handed it to her. “Ask him yourself. Dads love it when their kids think of them.”

  Her throat tightened at the first ring and then the next one. What had she gotten herself into? What would she say? Dads love it when—?

  “Whaddaya want now, Costello?” a gravelly voice teased. “You could be over here installin’ these new works, cleanin’ the gunk outta the toilet tank for your girlfriend—”

  “Uh…it’s the girlfriend,” she interjected. “You want to join us at Lenore’s for supper?”

  He paused. “Oh. Yeah?” She heard his smile, felt the creases deepen in his forehead as he straddled a stool in the bungalow’s dated little bathroom.

  “We just got back from Samantha’s memorial service. Elena’s making her lemon chicken, with fresh bread and wine, but if that sounds too froufrou for a—”

  “Frouf
rou, my…foot,” he said before something cruder came out. “Best idea I’ve heard all day. Even better comin’ from you, kid. It’ll be about an hour, if that’s okay?”

  “Perfect. See you then.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart.” As she heard him inhale, Angie saw wisps of cigarette smoke encircling his face. “You’re the best, ya know it?”

  The call clicked off and she stood for a moment with Ross’s phone to her ear. It had just happened again: a simple idea became reality by carrying through on it. No doubts. No second-guessing or waffling. It was the kind of stuff families did all the time, and it was finally happening for her again after a long, desperate dry spell. Intentions manifested, Lenore would call it. Angie closed her eyes, grinning.

  Elena’s laughter danced. “We should call you Miss Sunbeam, chica. You’ve got a bright new shine now.”

  “And that’s what I like to see, too,” Lenore said as she preceded Elliott through the door. “What’s up? Dinner smells heavenly.”

  Angie felt the color rise in her face. “Kyle…m-my father’s doing dinner with us. He sounded really tickled that I asked.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be?” Ross crossed to the china cabinet for plates. “He gets to spend time with you. Doesn’t get any better than that.”

  Elliott perked up as he followed their chatter. “Wait, I missed something. Are we talking about the Kyle who plays in the band? Rehabs houses?”

  “The man himself.” Ross took wine goblets from the cabinet. “And we’ve recently learned that he and Angie go waaay back.”

  “And they share a connection to a bungalow on Windswept,” Lenore chimed in. “It’s quite a story. I know how it’s all going to turn out, but I’m not telling.”

  “And why do I surmise this was a total surprise to you, Angie? You had no clue about it when you came here?” Dr. James watched her closely, his keen brown eyes alive with interest.

  “Just walked into it, after I escaped that stuff in Seattle I told you about.” Aware she was suddenly the object of everyone’s concern, Angie busied herself washing the romaine. “It was…well, a shock to learn my parents weren’t my birth parents.”