by Aimee Laine
“And what would that be?”
“You actually met George and Marge, right?” She moved to the window as the last of the cars disappeared down the drive.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Me, too. So did Ian, Tripp and Casey.”
“What in the world does this have to do with anything?”
“Do you know anyone else who actually talked with them?”
Emma threw her hands in the air before letting them drop to her thighs. “Everyone knew the Fergs, Lex.”
She waved her hands to stop Emma. “No, no. They knew of them, but I don’t think anyone around here has seen them in … a while.” She activated the speaker on her cell and dialed as Emma craned her neck around. “Hey, Janine. This is Lexi and Emma. I have a quick question.”
“Okay,” Janine said to the rhythm of a whisk against a metal bowl.
“I know Rune is small, but when was the last time you actually saw the Fergs?”
“Um … hey, Kevin, when was the last time the Fergs came into town?”
“Who?”
“The folks in the old farmhouse off sixty-four.”
“Never met ’em. I thought they died eons ago. My parents met them when they were kids, but I don’t think I ever actually did,” he said.
“Come to think of it, Lex, I think Casey’s talked so much about them, I ‘met’ ’em through her, but didn’t ever get a formal introduction. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just curious.”
“Okay. That all ya need? I got a restaurant full of folks. People are coming in to try us as if someone put up a billboard in the middle of the highway with a blinking ‘free food’ announcement. It’s nuts.”
Lexi clicked off after Janine’s goodbye. “They really aren’t real. Dead. Returned. Zeus. This entire day has been completely freaky.”
Emma leaned against the wall. “What does this mean, Lex?”
Lexi plopped down onto the second step of the stairs again, shuffling over for Emma to take the space to her right.
“How did we not know the Fergs passed away, Em? This house is in shambles because it’s been empty for decades. Twenty-nine years in fact—right before we were born. Everything’s all connected. In this huge, huge world, we’re all connection. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
• • •
Sunday brought with it a torrential downpour, compliments of hurricane George, of all names. She’d given Emma the journal at home, asked her to read through it in case she came up with any more answers on how exactly Lexi and Tripp could make their relationship work.
Sitting on her couch, in the living room painted a soft blue with chocolate accents, Lexi ran through passages by memory.
Some of the previous assumptions made better sense, coupled with Missy’s explanation, but Lexi wanted more. Marge wrote about orphaned children left to fend for themselves in war-torn and weather-ravaged cities. She added details on how she’d taken Mara away and given her a life. What Lexi interpreted as stolen became saved. She berated herself for her earlier thoughts until her head throbbed, and she closed her eyes.
At the ding of the doorbell, both Lexi and Emma popped up.
“You expecting someone?” Emma headed for the door, jumping back when she swung it open. “Ian!”
He shook the rain from his umbrella, dropped his suitcase next to the window and marched right over to the couch. “Hello, ladies.” He flopped down on his rump, with both arms stretched over the back of the couch—as ‘at home’ as Lexi and Emma.
“Well, hello to you, too, Ian,” Emma said.
Lexi turned to him. “What are you doing here?” She whipped her head back to the door, expecting Tripp to follow. “Where’s—”
“He’s on his way, but given your exploits of the most recent days, he asked me to come hang with you two lovely women.”
“He sent you to babysit, didn’t he?” Emma retook her spot on the opposite side of Ian.
“Maybe. But carry on with whatever you were doing.”
“Actually, I’m done.” Emma dropped the journal on the coffee table.
“Done with what?” Ian asked.
“Reading the journal Tripp found.” Emma crossed her ankles on the glass of the table.
“Can I read it? Tripp gave it to you before I had a chance to get my hands on it.”
Lexi passed Ian the book. “All yours. If you come up with any theories, let me know.”
“What theories you got so far?”
The rain pelted the outer windows as Emma recounted the stories Lexi had received from Missy and retold herself.
“That’s some heavy stuff.” Ian sat forward. “Let me make sure I understand.”
Lexi nodded and leaned back into her couch, still wondering at Ian’s arrival and Tripp’s absence. She forced herself not to ask Ian when Tripp would arrive.
“So …” Ian started, “Marge and George have been dead for as long as you’ve been alive, but their granddaughter was entrusted to ensure you got the pendant. Does it have some magical power or something?”
“Aside from Tripp’s silly little pronouncement that it protects against witches … no.” Lexi shook her head. “It’s just a jewel with a lot of history that I think I also have to pass down at some point. But to whom and how, I have no idea.”
A small chuckle burst from Ian. “Those two old people were dead, but we had cookies with them … in their kitchen … right? I’m not imagining that? Please tell me I’m not going crazy.”
“Not today,” Emma said with a smirk.
“Were they some sort of apparition, then?”
“That’s what I’m guessing,” Lexi said.
“Did you tell Tripp about what happened, Ian?” Emma asked, Lexi cringing at her lack of restraint. “Where is he?”
Ian shrugged. “Back to Marge and George …” he said. “Did these two wait for you and Tripp to get together so they could … what … leave again? Disappear? Ascend to the heavens?”
Why is he avoiding the topic?
“Sounds like it,” Emma said.
“I thought they moved to Florida—you know, where all the old people go?” Ian closed one eye as if he could only process with half his mind.
Lexi laughed. “They said Alaska, actually.” She tapped her knee. “Oh!” Her eyes widened. “Have you seen the Alaskan state flag?”
Ian and Emma both shook their heads.
“It has the big dipper and the north star.” Lexi covered her mouth with her palms. “They were going home! It was their way of telling us they came from the stars and were heading back.”
“That is so cool,” Emma said. “This sounds like a long conversation. I’m going to get some snacks.”
“And makes a lot—no, nothing makes sense.” Ian shook his head. “What else about the book?”
“Okay. So anyway, the book is kinda of a record about their adventures,” Lexi said. “Knowing what Missy told me, I see now that they definitely kept their gifts. It also covers her looking for what she calls a ‘replacement’. I interpret that to be me, and of course, Tripp, unless we weren’t their first attempt.”
“She does say, though, Lex—” Emma returned to her spot with a bag of apple chips. “All the finders, for lack of a better word, are responsible for their replacements. So you have to find someone … whenever that time comes.”
“Yeah, probably.” Lexi waved the thought away, still wondering about Tripp but resigning herself to the fact he wouldn’t be joining her. Like Emma had, she picked up an apple slice.
Emma shifted forward. “You know … she doesn’t once mention doing anything on her own, or George on his.” Emma opened the journal, flipping through the pages in a seemingly random pattern. “Didn’t Marge say something about a binding factor?”
“Yeah,” Lexi said.
“You think Mara was that bond thingy Marge said you’d need?” Ian asked.
“A lot of the first entries talk about Mara, how she was their real connection d
espite the love they held for each other. Later, the descriptions become about their adventures together,” Lexi said.
“Do you think …” Ian hesitated. “… maybe … that you and Tripp just need a something-or-other?”
Lexi eyed her sister. As much as she wanted to talk about Marge and George and their history, she didn’t want to think about her own relationship with Tripp—especially without him around.
“Why haven’t you run to him?” Emma slid close to Ian.
“What?”
“Marge said you have to stick permanently, right? You’ve even gone on a little adventure together, but you’re sitting here—”
“Me? He’s the one not coming back! I don’t even know where he is!” Why is Emma on Tripp’s side?
“Alright, alright. Enough of that,” Ian said. “You two want to know why I’m really here?”
“Hell, yes!” Lexi’s frustration mixed with the need for answers.
Ian’s laugh would have reached the ceiling if it could have. He laid a hand on her knee. “I’m here to make sure Emma does her job and keeps tabs on you every moment of every day until Tripp gets here. He thought a double dose would be better than one since you can’t seem to stay out of trouble without him.”
“What?” Emma jerked back. “When did I get appointed a guardian?”
“Trust me on this one. You both need me.”
“We do not—” Lexi and Emma started, but Ian held up both hands.
“How did you find Lexi, Emma?”
“Uh … well … Tripp called me.”
“What?” Lexi expected to give herself whiplash with the back and forth between Emma and Ian.
Emma slunk like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Missy called me and asked me to call the police. After I did that, Tripp’s number popped on the screen. He could barely breathe, Lexi.” She rubbed her arms as if she had a chill. “He told me where you sorta were, said you were safe but was concerned the guy was there.”
“How did he know? Where was he to know that?” Lexi massaged her temple, popping her eyes wide. “Oh, my—it was real.”
“What was?” Ian and Emma said at the same time.
“When I was hiding, the guy opened the closet door. I thought for sure he could see me. I mean, I looked right in his eyes. You know how you know for sure the other person can see you?”
They both nodded.
“Well, that’s what happened, but he closed the door again like he hadn’t.” She put her hands against her chest. “I thought I’d just done a good hiding job, but—” She stopped, dropping her chin to her chest.
“But what, Lex?” Emma’s kind voice soothed.
“I heard him.” Tapping her temple, she said, “In my head. He was using his gift through me.” She met her sister’s stare. “He gave me his ability, lent it to me or something. Through me. How’s that possible?”
Ian smiled. “Well that’s one less mystery, at least.”
“There are still so many.” Even Lexi heard the whine.
“So, I do have one more task,” Ian said.
Lexi straightened, preparing to infuse her tone with sarcasm. “What else could you possibly have to do for us helpless women?”
Emma snorted.
“Can you use your … ability for, ah … finding people?”
“Well, shit, Ian. That is not a question you want to ask her,” Emma said.
25
Tripp waited outside Luna Cafe, a block from Jill’s apartment. She’d promised to meet him for lunch when he’d called and apologized. The cool breeze brought with it the smells of hot dogs from a street vendor while a fresh fruit tray on another table hinted at the delicacies the cafe offered.
He sipped his water, waiting for Jill to make her appearance, which, unless she changed her habits, would mean she’d arrive fifteen minutes after their appointed time. Tripp kept an eye out for Sloan’s spies in addition to enjoying a bit of people watching. Like at the beach, New York included a little of everyone, but the hustle that came with the location had long since worn on him.
“Tripp.”
He’d missed Jill’s approach while he watched a family try to cross the four-lane road. “Hi.” He added a kiss to her cheek as she sat, which she accepted with coldness. That too, he expected.
“I’ll have a water with lime when the server comes around.” She dropped her bag to her lap—a gesture which meant she’d bolt at the slightest inconvenience.
He signaled the waitress with two fingers, ordered when she arrived.
“What do you want?” Jill’s perfect features, beautiful but so very different than Lexi’s, reflected the hurt he’d seen at the vault but masked with a fake smile and perfect cosmetic application.
To those who didn’t know her well, they’d see nothing but a powerful woman.
“I want to apologize.”
“You already did.” Her shoulders slouched a touch. “For what again?”
“For the way things ended between us.”
She moved her bag to the side chair. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
She nodded. “Then I accept.” When she placed her arms on the table, Tripp expected he’d get at least a few more minutes out of her company. “What are you going to do with your life now?”
He leaned forward, took her ringless hand in his. “I want to help you.”
“What?” Her brows creased.
“I want you to keep all the wedding plans you’ve made.”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m not going to marry you.”
He held on when she tried to tug her hands free.
“Let go, or I’ll scream.” She pursed her lips.
“I know you will, Jill,” he said, though he didn’t release her. “Hear me out. What is the one thing you’ve always wanted in life? In all your twenty-eight years.”
“Twenty-five, Tripp.” The little smirk told him her soft side he knew of snuck out.
“Okay. Your twenty-five years. What is it? Because I know. I figured it out. I just want to hear it from you.”
Her shoulders slouched in a child-like sulk. “It’s not important anymore.”
“Yes … it is.”
Her blue eyes reflected an intense desire to tell him. “I want a family.”
“I know.”
She straightened. “Then why did you cheat—”
“I was never unfaithful to you.” He let her hands free. “I told you at least ten times I wasn’t ready for marriage. It wasn’t you; it was me.”
She leaned back in the chair. “But—”
“No, Jill. You and I aren’t meant to be together. But I know who is supposed to be with you.”
She smiled, her gaze off to the side. “How could you possibly know that, Tripp? I thought it was you.”
“How much do you trust me?”
She laughed. “Not at all.” The pat on the hand told him otherwise.
“How many plans have you cancelled for the wedding of the century?”
She tucked her chin against her shoulder. “None.”
Knew that, too. “I didn’t think you would.” He chuckled. “Dear old dad know that?”
“Maybe.”
“Be honest about it.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s my future got to do with this? Especially if you’re not—”
“Nothing.” Tripp waved it away. “Never mind.” If she held true to form, she’d never let the statement go without further explanation.
“Spill it.”
Tripp bit back a laugh. “He’s doling out a little blackmail.”
“On who? Oh!” Her hands flew to her mouth. “No. Dammit.” She pounded her fist against the table. “I told him we broke up, but I didn’t—”
“He’s protecting his baby. But because you run to him every time there’s a problem, he takes care of it in his way.”
“I do not—”
Tripp cocked hi
s head at her.
“But he’s my dad. He’s supposed to be on my side.” She dropped her gaze. “Well, geez, Tripp. I just went to him for a shoulder to cry on. Ever since Mom died, he’s been my rock—the only one I could rely on.”
“I know, but he’s gone off the deep end on this one. So, I think you should have a little fun with him. Pull one big-ass surprise on him.”
She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward on her elbows. “What are you talking about?”
“What if you pretended you trusted me, went ahead with the wedding plans, but didn’t tell anyone who the groom was until the very last minute?”
“That’s ridiculous.” While her tone said ‘no way’, the bat of her lashes asked ‘how?’
“I know it sounds like it.”
“I have to have a groom, Tripp. That’s pretty damn important.”
“You will.”
She crossed her hands over her heart. “I need to know who my groom—”
Tripp took her hands again. “I know. Remember when I asked you about trusting me? This is why.”
One nail tapped against the back of his hand. “So, I just plan my wedding, let the press in and walk up the aisle in my custom-made dress—which I already own by the way—to a groom I haven’t even met and trust he’s ‘the one’?” She used her manicured fingers to quote.
“Yes.”
Her hand waved above her head. “That’s asinine! How do I know you’re not just making all this up?”
“You see the woman over there?” He pointed to Isabelle, who stood at a pay phone, her back to Tripp and Jill.
“Yeah. What about her? She works for my Dad. I know she keeps an eye on me sometimes—like a bodyguard of sorts, though she’s not always around.”
“She, or her partners, have been following me. She, or one of them, shot me. They’ve sent photos of me, you and—” He hesitated to bring up Lexi’s name.
“The woman you’re attached to?” Jill’s smile grew though it started small.
“Yes.”
“You’re completely in love with her, aren’t you?”
Tripp smiled. “Yes, but I’m pretty sure she’s not liking me so much right now.” He snorted a laugh. “And your father has a hell of a lot to do with it.”
