by C. M. Albert
IT WAS SO strange for Rosalie to participate in a girls’ night, but she was rather enjoying herself. Celeste’s friend Kenya, a party planner from New York, was in town helping Dez arrange their official “housewarming” party—which didn’t make as much sense as she was trying to pretend because she’d moved in with Mitch months ago. Rosalie knew people forgot she was psychic sometimes and could read their energy and intentions, but that was fine with her.
Kenya held Dylan in her arms on the couch, cooing and rocking her back and forth so she’d fall asleep. Rosalie had met Kenya at Celeste’s grand opening of the Tranquility Health and Wellness Center, but this was the first time she was back in Arden’s Glen, and alone this time.
“Yeah, we broke up,” Kenya admitted to Dez and her as Celeste prepared some appetizers in the kitchen.
“What happened?” Dez asked. “Y’all seemed like such a cute couple.”
“Seemed was the key word. That man was so controlling. And you know I don’t take shit from anyone. He actually had the nerve to ask me to give up my business and stay home to raise his kids from his baby momma. Mmm,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t know what that fool was thinking.”
Rosalie laughed. “Good choice, following your career instead.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’d give it up in a heartbeat for the right man,” Kenya said, grinning. “But the right man wouldn’t ask me to give it up. There’s a difference.”
Rosalie thought about that for a minute and could see what Kenya was saying. “It’s probably for the best anyway. You don’t want any of the energy coming from his baby momma. Those kids are a handful because of her.”
Kenya narrowed her hazel eyes at me. “How do you know that?”
Dez laughed. “Oh, did we forget to mention that Rosalie’s an intuitive psychic?”
Kenya’s eyes widened. “Kind of like Celeste? I didn’t know it was a common thing.”
Celeste laughed from the kitchen as she placed their wine glasses on a tray. “Rosalie’s a different level of intuitive than I am. All sensitives have the capacity to read energy, if they learn how. I have a deeper understanding of energy and intuition than most, being a healer. But Rosalie does, too, even though she’s not here to be a healer.”
“What’s she here to be then?” Kenya asked, leaning forward in her seat. “This stuff fascinates me. I don’t understand a lick of it, but I trust Celeste, so I know it must be real for some people.”
Rosalie nodded, completely understanding the dynamic. Some people were fascinated by it; some were terrified. And some believed but didn’t want to.
“Rosalie is psychic, but she’s not a fortune-teller or crystal-ball reader. I’ll let you explain it, Rosalie, if you want to. But she’s here to help people understand the past so they can move forward with their futures. Kind of like a bridge. She does this as a medium—which means she can talk to those on the other side.”
Kenya’s face scrunched up, confused. “On the other side of what, girl?”
Celeste came around the island, carrying the large tray with her. Dez got up and helped her set it up on the oversized ottoman in front of the couch where she and Kenya were sitting. Rosalie was curled up on the floor in front of the ottoman, her arms wrapped around her knees. She gratefully accepted the glass of wine Celeste handed her.
“Of the veil,” Rosalie said. She didn’t usually take the time to explain herself to others, but Kenya was different. She may not “get it,” but Rosalie could tell she wasn’t cynical or closed off either. She was just curious—as most people were. But she wasn’t looking at Rosalie as if she was a sideshow freak. Instead, Kenya was looking at Rosalie as if she were something special, and Rosalie rather liked that feeling.
“There’s an energetic barrier, if you will, between our world and the other side. Where we go after we pass away,” Rosalie said as explanation. “Some people cross over when they die, though they can come back to visit. That’s what we call a spirit. But there are others who don’t cross over for one reason or another. That’s what you know as a ghost. But it’s all just energy. I help people who are alive by having conversations with their loved ones who have crossed over.”
Kenya nodded, making a little “huh” noise. She took a long sip of her wine, thinking. “So, what if they want to talk to someone, but that loved one hasn’t crossed over yet?”
It was a good question, and it excited Rosalie to have someone to talk to about this—someone who was truly interested in the answer and not in identifying the ways Rosalie was odd or different. “Then I cross them over. When they’re stuck here, they are really confused, and their energy isn’t fully restored. So it’s them, kind of, but they’re not wholly themselves. I ask if they want to be crossed over. Some do, some don’t. I can’t help the ones who don’t. But I can cross over the ones who want to be.”
“Damn. And here I thought my job was interesting as an event planner in the city. I see some weird ass shit. But nothing like this,” Kenya said, laughing. Then her face sobered, as if considering something. “So, are you able to talk to my brother, Marcus?” she asked quietly, handing Dylan back to Celeste, who nestled the sleeping baby against her chest.
Rosalie nodded. His energy had already come in that evening, but she wasn’t a medium who offered “readings” without being asked. That was invasive, and she didn’t respect mediums who did that.
“He’s already come through for you tonight. A young male, about nineteen?” When Kenya nodded, Rosalie closed her eyes and felt into Marcus’s energy. “He said to tell you it was an accident. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wants you to know he wasn’t using. He was there to get his girlfriend. Her brother was a dealer, wasn’t he?” Rosalie asked, opening her eyes and looking at Kenya.
Kenya nodded, tears sliding from the corners of her eyes and down her sharply defined cheekbones until they reached her full lips. She didn’t bother wiping them, just kept her eyes on Rosalie. “That woman was his vice and downfall.” Kenya shook her head, finally using her thumb to wipe the tears that fell to her lips.
Dez handed Kenya a tissue, and the woman balled it up in her hand and picked at it, lost in memories.
“He loved her,” Rosalie whispered. “More than anyone—except for you. He wants you to know that his girlfriend was pregnant. He couldn’t leave her in danger any more than you would’ve left him in danger. But he doesn’t regret going—because he gave his life protecting her. He’s showing me one last thing. A rainbow and a beautiful, tropical place, like Hawaii. He says he’ll see you again someday.”
Kenya sniffed, finally lifting the tissue Dez had given her to dab at the corner of her eye. “I used to sing him “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” and rock him in my arms when he was little. Our house was—tumultuous, to say the least. I always told him someday I’d take him someplace safe, where the skies are blue. It was our happy place. Dreaming of a safer future.”
“He felt it, Kenya. He knew you were his safety. I can feel how much he loved you. It’s beautiful. So pure and genuine.”
Kenya smiled through her tears. “He was a good kid. My one ray of sunshine.” She stood up, smoothed her skirt. “Thank you so much, Rosalie. I can’t even tell you what an amazing gift you have. May I give you a hug?”
Rosalie flushed, but stood up, leaning into the woman’s warm embrace. “Thank you,” Kenya whispered. “I didn’t realize how stuck I was with this grief before now. But I feel so much lighter now. Is that normal?”
Rosalie stepped back, her hand resting on Kenya’s arm. “It is. Closure is one of the most powerful ways to heal.”
“Is that why you do it?” Kenya asked. “Talk to dead people?”
“I do it because I have no other choice. It’s who I am. I didn’t ask for this, but if I can help just one person who needs answers—then it’s worth every terrible name I’ve ever been called. Every stare I’ve gotten. Every friend I’ve lost,” Rosalie said quietly.
“I
’m sorry to hear that. It’s an amazing gift, and I can’t believe anyone would judge you for that.”
“Not anyone—almost everyone,” Rosalie said wryly. “I’ve gotten used to it by now, but it hasn’t always been an easy road.”
“I can’t imagine it has,” Kenya said. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to retire. I’d love a warm bath with a candle or two to keep me company.”
Celeste nodded, standing. “Here, let me walk you up.”
Rosalie watched the two women head toward the grand staircase that led to Tranquility’s guest suites on the second floor. “Kenya is really sweet,” she said, turning to Dez. “So . . . housewarming party, huh?”
Dez laughed. “Didn’t think I’d get it by you.”
“Does Celeste know?”
Dez shook her head no, a silly grin spreading across her face. “Keep it a secret for now, please? There’s not a lot we can keep quiet in this small town. But somehow we have. I can’t wait, Rosalie. I really can’t.”
Rosalie grinned, then impulsively hugged her friend. “I’m so happy for you, Dez. You and Mitch deserve so much happiness.”
Dez stiffened for a moment, then pulled back. Rosalie could read the conflicted feelings swirling around inside her friend—but she wouldn’t pry. And she refused to go looking for answers by snooping energetically. She would wait until Dez was ready to talk to her about whatever was weighing heavy on her heart.
“So do you, Rosalie,” Dez said finally. “So, how are things with the doctor?”
“Nice deflection,” Rosalie said, grinning. “Eat!” she said, offering a small plate of veggies and dip to Dez.
Dez groaned. “Unfortunately, all this baby wants is pasta. I feel like I spend more time at Del Vecchio’s than I do at home.”
Rosalie grimaced, her heart burning as flashbacks flooded her vision. She loved Sal and Maria, but she generally avoided Del Vecchio’s because of the boys—especially Rocco.
“So? The doctor,” Dez reminded Rosalie, lifting a huge heap of spinach artichoke dip onto a sugar snap pea. When she noticed Rosalie’s raised brow, Dez shrugged. “What? If I’m forced to feed this baby something healthy, I’m at least going to enjoy it.”
Rosalie’s phone vibrated in her pocket, startling her and interrupting her reply to Dez’s pointed question. Thank God! Rosalie looked down at her phone and she couldn’t help but grin.
Zade: For some reason, I’m feeling a little off tonight.
Rosalie: Are you now?
Zade: Yeah, mind coming over to turn me on?
Rosalie: . . .
Zade: Never mind. You’re turning me on already.
Rosalie: . . .
Zade: You gonna let me take you out tomorrow? For a proper date?
Rosalie: You’re relentless.
Zade: You haven’t seen anything yet, beautiful.
Rosalie: Oh boy. You’re smooth.
Zade: It’s a date then?
Rosalie: I have to work the morning shift at the café.
Zade: Perfect! I was planning a picnic lunch at the quarry. Wear a bikini.
Rosalie: . . .
Zade: What? A guy can dream!
Rosalie: What time?
Zade: So it’s a yes?
Rosalie: It’s a yes.
Zade: Mind giving me directions?
Rosalie: You’ve already been to my house, Zade.
Zade: I meant to your heart.
Rosalie: . . .
Zade: See you tomorrow, then. Noonish?
Rosalie: Noon it is.
Zade: Sweet. Night, Rosalie.
Rosalie: Night, doctor.
“Well, well, well . . . looks like whatever you were reading was just what the doctor ordered,” Dez said, interrupting Rosalie’s reverie. “Pun intended.”
Rosalie’s heart warmed again, but this time for good reasons. She grabbed a carrot stick and took her own scoop of spinach dip as Celeste rounded the corner.
“Now that Kenya’s all tucked in, I’m gonna go put the baby to bed real quick,” she whispered as she headed toward the back stairs that led to their private quarters. “Be right back.”
Dez laughed. “Man, you should see your face right now. It’s beet red. But hey—we don’t have to talk about Dr. Zampogna if you don’t want.”
“How did you know I was texting Zade?”
“Oh, Zade now is it?” Dez teased. “And I didn’t. But you just confirmed it for me, so there’s that.”
D’oh. Rosalie stuck her tongue out at her friend.
“Seriously, Rosalie, how did your date the other night go? It must’ve been good if he’s got you blushing like this with a simple text.”
Rosalie gathered her breath, debating how much to open up about with Dez. She’d never been good at this kind of stuff. Never had a reason to be. But she trusted Dez, despite their rocky and embarrassing start. “I wish things were easier, Dez. I just—I don’t have a great track record with guys. And Zade . . . he’s out of my league. It’s not only about the money—though we do run in completely different circles. The production company called again. They needed an answer to know whether they’re going to start production soon.”
“Oh, Rosalie! That’s exciting! What did you tell them?”
Rosalie swallowed hard, thinking of her brother and how much he needed her at the café. And Zade, who seemed to want her in his life. And of Arden’s Glen—the place she always thought she wanted to leave. But, suddenly, it seemed as if she had a lot of loose ends here. Ones she wasn’t sure she was ready to cut and run on.
“I told them yes,” Rosalie said, her voice trembling with excitement and fear.
Dez jumped up, pumping her fists in the air. “Yes! Rosalie, that’s wonderful! We need to celebrate!”
Celeste rounded the corner, putting a finger to her mouth indicating Dez needed to quiet down for the baby. Dez grinned. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“What’s all the excitement about?” Celeste asked, grabbing her cucumber water.
Dez shot her hands out toward Rosalie, as if calling a first down. “Rosalie! She has some awesome news we need to celebrate!”
Rosalie’s face warmed again at all the attention. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to.
“What’s the news, Rosalie?” Celeste asked, grabbing her own small plate of veggies and dip before settling into the oversized armchair near the couch. “You’re absolutely glowing, by the way. So it must be good.”
Rosalie wasn’t sure if it was the job or Zade that had her glowing, but she would focus on the job for now. “I told the production company yes,” Rosalie said, beaming. She was nervous, but she was also proud. This was her long-awaited ticket out. Guilt tore at her heart, but mostly she felt excitement.
“I have two weeks to research the first town I’ll be investigating, but I can do that from here. Then they want me in California for some test shoots and interviews, and I’ll look at apartments while I’m there. Halcyon is giving me an allowance separate from my salary for the move and six months of housing. But they need me completely moved to California in less than a month, regardless. It’s a little intimidating, and I—I haven’t told Brecken yet. I’m afraid to.”
Celeste nodded. “It’s understandable. I know you hate letting people down, Rosalie. But when was the last time you did something for yourself? You’ve pretty much stuck around Arden’s Glen for Brecken and his business, right?”
Rosalie played with her napkin, tearing off little pieces until it was a pile on her plate. She laughed, meeting her friend’s eyes. “I’ve stuck around because I didn’t really have anywhere else to go before now. And now I have friends for the first time,” she said, blushing again. “I have a successful radio show that’s gaining traction, and, yeah. Brecken did so much for me when our parents died. He gave up so much to take care of me. I don’t feel like I can just up and leave him high and dry. Things have been tight at the café lately, and we’re down a waitress. What’s he doing to do?”
“You
have a huge heart, Rosalie. And I admire that. But we all make choices. Brecken made an admirable one when your parents died, but it doesn’t mean you’re indebted to him for the rest of your life. And I suspect Brecken doesn’t see it that way at all. He did what needed to be done as the older brother. And he loves the café, but he also knew the risks of opening a business. There are plenty of people who would love to work for him. Heck, he could even get another high schooler for the weekend shifts. They always need cash,” Celeste said, laughing. “At least, I did in high school.” She winked at Dez.
“You make it all sound so easy,” Rosalie said, sighing. “But it’s not.”
“It also doesn’t have to be as hard as you’re making it, Rosalie,” Dez said. “Trust me. I wasted so much of my life making things harder than they needed to be. And I’d give anything to go back and change things—live life sooner. You are so young. Even if you take this leap and royally screw things up—which you won’t—you can always come home. But what if you never take the chance? You will always wonder how different things could’ve been. I think you would end up resenting Brecken, and most likely Arden’s Glen, too.”
Rosalie thought about what her friend was saying. She’d have to sleep on it for sure. It didn’t really matter, since she already said yes. Technically, she hadn’t signed the paperwork yet. But for all intents and purposes, she was about to host her very own television show! One where her skills would not only be needed, but they’d be helping people. She’d be able to see the tangible benefits of her hard work. She couldn’t wait.
The only thing that shadowed her current happiness was Zade. She knew she shouldn’t have agreed to their date the next day. She was leaving in a couple of weeks and needed to put a stop to whatever delusions she was having about the sexy doctor before her heart fell any deeper. It was a slippery slope, and she was teetering on the edge. If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall and lose the one chance she had of not only leaving, but the opportunity to thumb her nose up at Arden’s Glen on her way out.
