Spencer's Cove

by Missouri Vaun

  She sank her fingers into Boots’s mane. Not simply to steady herself in the saddle, but to keep from floating away. The boundary between her body and the world seemed blurred, permeable. She was acutely aware of the scent of seaweed from the surf below, the call of the ravens in the tree behind her. She could even sense the movement of creatures beneath the ocean’s surface. It was as if the entire world was seething with a fresh dynamism and her body was one big receptor. Moments earlier, she’d stepped away from herself, separated, and looked back at her body seated atop Boots.

  Maybe she should have asked Foster to ride with her, but there was part of her that refused to believe what Evan had said. Whatever this was, whatever was happening, she was determined to control it. This…what had Evan called it? A transmutation? Well, she wasn’t going to let it run her life.

  A small patch of cowslip swayed in the breeze, moving the tall grass on either side. The wind had come from nowhere, a microburst. Abby could have sworn that the gust had carried a sound, or more specifically, a word. The word was more feeling than speech, an insinuation, an agent of contagion. A threat? A chill traveled up her arm. Abruptly, she turned to look over her shoulder because it was as if some menacing presence had brushed past her, carried along by the wind.

  Possibly sensing her sudden unease, Boots turned and trotted toward the barn. Abby rotated in the saddle, looking south and then north, but nothing followed them although she’d have sworn it had.

  Evan stepped from the shadow of the barn’s interior as they approached. It was weird that they had both unintentionally revealed things about themselves the previous night. Evan knew her now, in a way she hadn’t before, and the opposite was also true. She was unsure what this new knowing would feel like. Evan held Boots’s cheek strap as she dismounted. Only then was she able to give the feeling a name: awkward. She met Evan’s gaze only for a moment before averting her eyes to the enclosure where Journey and Sasha moseyed about.

  “How are you this morning?” Evan patted Boots’s neck.

  “Fine.” Nothing was probably further from the truth.

  “Are you sure?”

  “No, I’m not sure.” Abby had to shield her eyes from the sun with her hand when she looked up at Evan. “I had a horrible dream last night.”

  Abby never talked about her dreams. She wasn’t sure why she was doing it now. Possibly because Evan had asked as if she really wanted to know.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I don’t really remember it. It just left me with a sense of foreboding.” That was as much detail as she felt like sharing at the moment.

  “As you transition, your dreams will become more vivid, more like visions than dreams.” Evan rubbed Boots’s nose gently as she talked, not really making eye contact with Abby. “I’m happy to listen if you decide to share any of your visions.”

  Abby was surprised by Evan’s statement, and her offer to listen. Dreams weren’t real, were they? Although as soon as the thought formed in her mind, she remembered the taste of salt on her lips and the indentation of the amulet in her palm. She glanced toward the house, then back at Evan.

  They were quiet for a moment. Abby turned toward the ocean. She could just glimpse the curve of it from the slight rise of the ground where they stood. Evan disappeared into the barn with Boots and Abby stood still and waited.

  The tall, golden grass in the open acres between the barn and the cliffs swayed with the rippling breeze like undulating waves. But no more words came with the wind, only the cleansing scent of salt from the Pacific.

  ***

  Foster squinted at the window. It seemed early, but the sun was relentlessly bright. It sliced across the room from the partially open drapes. She rubbed her eyes. Abby’s side of the bed was empty. She fumbled around on the bedside table for her glasses. When she put them on, a thumbprint in the middle of the right lens blurred her vision. She polished the lens with the hem of her T-shirt and put them back on. Better. She fished in her discarded jeans pocket for her cell. The time on her phone told her it was still early and that she had a text from Rosalind.

  How’s it going on the Left Coast?

  Hmm, how much should she say? Not much.

  Great.

  Foster added a little smiling emoji with nerd glasses and clicked off. That should be enough to hold Rosalind at bay for now. She had bigger things to think about than a memoir project.

  She dangled her feet off the side of the bed and waited for her brain to wake up. They hadn’t had any alcohol the previous night, but Foster felt seriously hung over. When her eyes adjusted to the half-light of the room she could see that the salt pentagram was still on the floor, right where they’d left it. Somewhere, in the recesses of her foggy brain, she’d hoped the entire episode from last night had been a weird dream. But the five-pointed star drawn with salt confirmed that it was real.

  Other details started to emerge. Like how Abby had kissed her. Abby had kissed her and she’d kissed her back. And they slept next to each other, although, Foster wasn’t sure how much sleep she actually got. During the night she’d been hyper aware of Abby’s every movement, the lightest contact, the brush of Abby’s fingers across her arm, had caused a cascading electrical storm through her entire nervous system. They had not done much more than kiss and hold each other, but if Abby had wanted more Foster would have been happy to offer it. From the first moment their lips touched, Foster’s insides churned as if a thousand butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach.

  What had Evan said? That she was supposed to be Abby’s keeper, or something. What did that mean? If it meant that she was completely smitten to the point where Abby pretty much owned her, then yeah, she was in real trouble. Who was keeping whom, that was the question.

  As it was, though, Foster couldn’t deny the urgent need to lay eyes on Abby. She didn’t simply want to see her, she needed to see her. And then she needed coffee. Abby first, coffee second. She’d been in California for two days, and her priorities were already completely upended.

  Foster tugged jeans on over her boxer shorts and slipped her wingtips on without socks. She finger-combed her hair as she descended the staircase and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Well, good morning.” Cora’s face brightened when she saw Foster.

  “Good morning.” Foster wasn’t really one of those talk first thing in the morning sorts of people, but good Southern manners demanded that she make an effort.

  “I see someone was hungry last night.” Cora seemed pleased that almost all of her casserole had been eaten.

  “Yeah…” Foster was about to say more when Abby walked into the room. Evan wasn’t far behind.

  Foster had served herself a cup of coffee and was leaning against the counter. She was about to take a sip, but Abby’s smoldering gaze from across the room pinned her in place, with the cup midair. Abby crossed the room and invaded Foster’s personal space as she reached past her for a mug. When Abby had the cup in hand, she didn’t move away. Abby reached around on the other side for a teabag, stepped away to add hot water, then returned to add a little cream.

  Abby was so close that Foster could feel the warmth from her skin, smell the light scent of sea air, and see the flecks of darker blue swimming in her irises. If Abby was aware anyone else was in the room she gave no indication of it. For a minute, Foster thought Abby might even kiss her in front of everyone. At one point, Abby was laser focused on Foster’s lips and was a hair’s breadth from making contact, but at the last second, she met Foster’s gaze and abruptly left the room.

  Everyone seemed dumbstruck, silently staring at Foster, and all Foster could do was follow Abby’s retreat with wide eyes, speechless. Abby had practically undressed Foster with her eyes; her physical presence left a heat signature in the room that Foster was pretty sure everyone felt.

  “Well, now, it’s so nice to see you two have made friends.” Cora was blushing. She cleared her throat. “Is anyone hungry for breakfast?”

  Fos
ter was definitely hungry, but she was fairly certain that eggs and toast weren’t going to satisfy the craving Abby had just stoked. She set her cup on the counter, almost missing the edge altogether, with the intention of following Abby.

  “You should eat first.” It was as if Evan read her mind.

  Foster blinked a few times and swallowed. Her throat was dry, her palms were sweaty, and her libido was humming. She nodded, took a deep breath, and sank to a nearby chair.

  ***

  Abby was burning up. She unzipped her jacket as she retreated to her room and dropped it over a chair. Her shirt was next. Everything she was wearing was suddenly too much, restrictive. Her skin tingled, prickled was more accurate. A soak in the tub was what she needed. Just now in the kitchen she’d been completely outside herself, unable to control the urge to be close to Foster. The entire encounter was so out of the norm for her that she didn’t know what else to do but flee.

  She sat on the edge of the tub to check the water temperature. She piled her undergarments in the hamper and sank into the steaming water. She pulled her hair aside. The curve at the back of the deep, clawfoot tub was cool against her neck. She dropped lower, so that her shoulders were submerged.

  Her hormones were raging in a way she’d never experienced before. She took deep breaths and exhaled slowly. She wanted Foster so badly and she had no idea what to do about it. They barely knew each other, although they’d begun to share something that seemed fairly unexplainable. But did that shared experience translate to sex?

  I hope so.

  The internal thought surprised Abby. Be serious. She splashed water on her face and tried to focus on anything but Foster. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the liquid embrace of the water surrounding her. It caressed her flesh. Its warmth was above her and beneath her. Foster’s lips. Foster’s hands.

  Her eyes flew open. She’d done it again. She seemed unable to truly redirect her thoughts. Was Foster feeling the same intense attraction? Abby gripped the side of the tub and pulled herself up to a seated position. The need, no, the urgent, desperate need, to find out how Foster was feeling made it impossible to relax. Abby reached for a towel, determined to avoid Foster at all cost until she could control her hormones.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cora served food for Evan and Foster, then settled at the table with them for a cup of tea and some toast.

  “Did you gals hear this morning’s news?” Cora looked as if she would burst if she didn’t get to share her gossip.

  Foster’s mouth was full of scrambled eggs. She shook her head.

  “There was a UFO over the cemetery last night. And Edith Mills from the county office said it left a huge circular charred area in the grass.” Cora paused for effect. “Just like one of those crop circles, only burned.” She sipped her tea. “And then Iain noticed one outside the horse pen. Do you suppose we had extraterrestrial visitors in the night?”

  The eggs she’d just choked down threatened to revolt. Foster took a big gulp of coffee and glanced sideways at Evan, who seemed as cool as cucumber salad.

  “Maybe. I’ve always wanted to see a UFO. I must have slept through it if they were here.” Evan calmly bit into her toast.

  “Edith said that gravestones were toppled and there were tree limbs down everywhere at the cemetery…even a few dead birds.”

  “Hmm.” Evan chewed slowly.

  Foster looked at Cora. This was clearly not the response she had hoped for. She was disappointed that her story hadn’t gotten a better, more excitable reception.

  “Do you think your friend Edith would let me interview her? You know, for my research.” Foster’s appetite was gone. She pushed the last of her eggs around on her plate.

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure she would.” Cora’s mood brightened. “I’ll ring her later and ask just to make sure. She works at the county office next to the library.”

  The library was definitely on Foster’s agenda for today, so that would work out nicely. Cora stood up and poured tea into a fresh mug.

  “You two enjoy your breakfast. I’m just going to run this cup of tea out for Mr. Green. I want to see the spot by the fence row for myself.” UFOs or not, Cora was still on a mission to win Iain over with daily installments of tea and baked goods.

  The minute Cora closed the door some of the tension eased from Foster’s shoulders. She slouched in her chair and waited for Evan to say something, anything, but Evan was annoyingly mute as she finished off her own plate of eggs.

  “Well?” Foster couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Well, what?”

  “What are we going to do about this whole UFO thing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Yeah, a UFO sighting is a best-case scenario as far as I’m concerned. It completely throws everyone off Abby’s trail.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.” Evan took a sip of coffee and glared at Foster. “And by the way, you’re not going to the library or anywhere else.”

  “Says who?” Foster crossed her arms in front of her chest and hoped she was giving Evan her best not you look.

  “You can’t be that far away from Abby…not right now.” Evan studied Foster over the rim of her coffee cup. “I’m serious.”

  “Why?” Foster leaned forward, with her elbows at the edge of the table. “I mean, I have no idea what’s going on with this…this…transmutation. I don’t even know if that’s even what’s really happening. And even if it is, what am I supposed to do about it?” She was all for spending more time with Abby, but not because Evan was telling her to.

  “As her keeper, you need to be here for her. She may not know it yet, but she needs you.” Evan smiled slyly. “She may not know yet that she needs you, but if this morning’s display was any indication I’d say she wants you.”

  Foster had just taken a swig of coffee and almost snorted it out her nose. A coughing fit ensued.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a phone call.” Foster wasn’t about to discuss her attraction for Abby with Evan or guess at Abby’s feelings for her.

  She checked her cell phone as she ambled down the hall. The signal strength switched back and forth from no service to one bar. There was a landline in the library. She’d noticed it the first night she’d arrived and borrowed the books. She’d make the call from there. The library was so quiet and charming. The thought of having a few days to do nothing but survey the collection and lounge around reading was heavenly. It didn’t seem like her two-week research trip was going to allow for any significant down time, especially with everything that was going on with Abby.

  The phone was on a small table near the chaise lounge. Foster lifted it off the table onto her lap and dialed.

  “Hello?” It was nice to hear a familiar voice.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Foster, are you still in California?”

  “Yeah, I only just got here a day or so ago.”

  “Don’t say yeah to me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Is something wrong? You don’t sound like yourself. Is California as strange as they say it is on FOX News?”

  “No, Mom. It’s actually beautiful here. The ocean, the redwoods…you’d like it. You should visit here sometime.”

  “If I didn’t have to get on an airplane to do it, then maybe. You know how your father and I hate to fly.”

  It was true. The only family vacations she’d ever been on as a kid were in places within driving distance of home. Foster hadn’t gotten to fly on a plane until she was seventeen and had flown with her classmates to New York City for a field trip.

  “Mom, I wanted to ask you about Aunt Vera.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  “Mom, are you still there?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m still here. Why are you asking about Vera?”

  Vera had been dead for several years. She was her mother’s only sister and had practically been shunned by the famil
y for her, as her grandmother put it, queer ways. Although, by queer she didn’t mean gay; she just meant strange, or touched, pronounced “tetched” by southerners.

  “Was she really crazy?” Foster had been formulating a theory, but she needed more information to sort it all out. “I mean, I’ve heard you say she was crazy…but was she? Really?”

  “Well, Vera never learned to cook.” According to her mother’s rule book, a southern woman with a lack of culinary skill was an epic fail. But did that indicate insanity? Foster couldn’t cook either and she felt fairly sane. “She always had her nose in some book. She read the entire Encyclopedia Britania through twice.”

  “You mean, Britannica?”

  “Don’t sass me, young lady.”

  “Sorry, Mama.” Foster gave her mother a moment to regroup. “So, why do you think she did that much reading?”

  Foster wondered why she’d never asked.

  “She had trouble sleeping. She heard voices.” Her mother took a deep breath. “Lord, she even ran the vacuum cleaner most of the day so that no one could listen in on her conversations. Heaven only knows who she was talking to…herself mostly.”

  A chill ran up Foster’s arm from the receiver. Knowing what she now knew about what was happening with Abby, and what Foster was experiencing, she wondered if something similar might have been going on with Vera. If Vera had had some connection to witchcraft, given her family’s staunch Baptist beliefs, Vera would have had to hide any hint of paganism.

  “Are you sure she was talking to herself?”

  “What sort of question is that?” Her mother sounded annoyed. “She was by herself.”

  “You didn’t ever wonder if she saw ghosts or something?”

  “She said she saw people, but I never put any stock in it.”

  It was always strange to Foster that people of faith, people who believed in an afterlife and heaven and hell, had such difficulty believing in spiritual manifestations.

  “Your uncle knows more about it than me. I never had time for such nonsense, I had kids to raise.” Vera couldn’t cook and didn’t have children. Foster was sure that was a sore spot for a family who prided themselves on both.