by Spear, Terry
She sighed deeply. She’d keep trying.
Michael took her books and added them to his own. “I called my grandmother and told her to expect us once you make sure it’s okay with your parents to have supper with us. My grandmother’s already planning on having you stay.”
“Thanks. I’m sure my parents won’t mind.” Knowing her mother, she’d be able to unwind more if she had the house to herself a little while longer. Plus, Emily knew her mother would be thrilled she made a friend her first day at school.
After Michael put their books in the backseat of the car, he hesitated to start the engine. “If you like, you can tell me why Red and his thugs have it in for you.”
“Why? So you can mediate our situation?”
“If it would help. The thing is, if I knew why they’re so bent on hurting you…”
Emily’s eyes grew big. “Why would you think that?”
He ran his hands over the steering wheel, then started the car’s engine. “Well, I mean, they seem to be.”
“They’re just bullies. They won’t do anything.” That they wouldn’t regret, she wanted to add.
“I don’t want you to ride the school bus any longer. And I don’t want you driving that old Caddy if it doesn’t work half of the time. You might get stranded or something.”
And? She stared at him, surprised he’d taken such an interest in her so quickly. No guy had ever done that. Yet, if he learned she could read minds, had ghostly encounters, and could “charm” people, then what?
“I’d like to drive you to school and back every day, but if I’m unable, your parents should take you.”
“If you’re unable?”
“If my grandmother needs to go to the hospital again.”
“Oh. Thanks for the offer, Michael. I’d love to ride with you.”
He let out his breath. “Then it’s all set.”
Yes!
When they arrived at her house twenty minutes later, she grabbed her books and hopped out of his car. “See you in a few minutes, Michael!”
She watched him pull out of her drive and into the one next door to assure herself he wasn’t just a dream and he truly did live there. Once he parked, she ran inside her home. Already, her parents were complaining about how hard it was to air condition the upper floor, so to cut down the expense they closed the vents upstairs during the day and the vents downstairs when they retired to bed. What a pain. It meant her bedroom would be a sauna when she got home from school.
Her skin chilled when she stalked through the air-conditioned foyer; the difference between the muggy heat outside and the cool inside was cataclysmic. She shivered.
“Mom!” she hollered, not wanting to do a room by room search to find her mother.
Her mom let out a gasp from the living room. “Emily, you’re home early.”
Emily strode into the living room across the pale blue carpet. “I rode home with the boy next door. He’s a genius and has a photographic memory.”
“That’s wonderful, honey.” Her mother yanked open another box. The whole place smelled like cardboard and masking tape. “His name?”
“Michael Shipley from Sacramento, California. He lives with his grandmother, and they invited me over for dinner. Oh, and we’re going to do study hour. And he said he’d drive me to school and back.”
Smiling, her mother shook her head. “I take it your first day of school was fine.”
“Yep.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re happy. See, didn’t I tell you that you shouldn’t have worried so much about it?”
Emily’s stomach tensed. The notion she would become like her mother, the worrywart of the century, didn’t set well. Emily studied the empty boxes scattered all over the living room. Stuff from books to her father’s photography equipment rested on the light oak coffee table, end tables, and blue velvet couches. “Didn’t you go to any job interviews?”
“No.” Her mother crossed the floor and ran her hand over Emily’s back. “Your father called and said he wanted me to stay home for the next couple of days, get the place in order instead. You know him, he’s worried I’m too stressed from the move.”
“Oh, that’s good, Mom.” She was glad he put his foot down. Her mother had entirely too much work to do. If her mother was working at a job, she’d be anxious about the house being such a mess. “I’ll put all of the books away when I get home. Don’t try to do it all alone.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, Emily. You have a good time with your new little friend.”
Little. Emily stifled a smile. Michael was as tall as her dad. “Does Dad like his job?” She sure hoped so since she met Michael. It would be awful if her father decided to take a new job and move again after she’d already been uprooted from a home full of years of memories. Here, she was just beginning to make new ones, and the idea she’d be torn away again gave her stomach pains.
“Yeah, honey, he’s really happy with his new boss and coworkers. We even have a party to go to in a couple of days.”
“Wow, that’s nice!” Emily hesitated to leave, wishing she could be in two places at once. She knew her mother would try to do everything and wear herself out. “Mom,” Emily said, taking her mother’s hand and shaking it, “don’t put the books away. It’s my job, okay? I like to sort things.”
Some of the tension seemed to drain from her mother’s features. “Sure thing.”
“Got to go!”
“Have fun and see you in a little bit.”
Emily dashed back out the door, then raced across the front lawn, freshly sod with thick-bladed Saint Augustine grass. The school bus rumbled past her, and she glanced at it, glad she hadn’t had to ride it home. Red glared out the window and made a fist at her. She turned to ignore him just as Michael opened the front door of his grandmother’s peach brick home. A wraparound porch and white rocking chairs welcomed guests.
Michael didn’t look in Emily’s direction, however. His expression hard, he watched the school bus.
“Michael?” she said, trying to get his attention.
He took her hand and led her inside. “My grandmother’s already hungry and fixed corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes.”
“Sounds great. I’m always starving after school.”
“Good,” an older woman said from the kitchen, her voice warm and friendly. “Michael eats a fair amount, but it’s nice to have a friend of his over.”
His grandmother walked into the marble-tiled foyer to greet her—a platinum blonde, petite, dark brown eyes, and a smile that wouldn’t quit. Barely a line wrinkled her ivory skin. No way did she appear to be anyone’s old gray-haired granny. She didn’t seem to have any injuries requiring hospitalization, either. Thank goodness. But it deepened the mystery.
“Granny, this is Emily Rundle from school, and she lives next door,” Michael said.
“Nice to meet you,” Emily said.
His grandmother’s eyes sparkled. “I’m glad Michael’s found a friend already. He’s been worried about it since he moved here.”
He looked a little chagrined, like he didn’t want his grandmother revealing the way he’d felt.
“Well, I’m new here, too, and was feeling pretty anxious. I’m lucky Michael has some of my classes.”
“That’s really great, dear. You should have seen Michael watching you and your parents arrive. His nose was glued to the window all weekend, trying to get another glimpse of you.”
Michael’s cheeks reddened, and he made a fast retreat to the kitchen.
So the old white Caddy parked in front of her house wasn’t the only reason he knew she lived next door. Or maybe he hadn’t been sure she was the same girl. Once she moved into the house, she hadn’t left it…too hot and muggy outside, and too much work to do inside. And she had been wearing a different hair color.
“He hoped you’d be his age and in at least one of his classes.” His grandmother lowered her voice. “I tried to get him to take a plate of cookies to your parents to welcome them to the neighbo
rhood, but…” She shrugged and popped back into the kitchen. “Food’s ready.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Emily asked trailing behind his grandmother. Like Emily’s home, the front windows soaked up the sun. Except instead of blue and white decorations, Michael’s grandmother’s kitchen was done in white tile counters and appliances, with bright yellow canisters and knick-knacks decorating the walls.
“You can fix everyone a glass of iced water, if you don’t mind. I keep telling Michael he needs to drink more milk and water and fewer sodas. He needs calcium in those bones of his, not phosphorus.”
Emily wondered if his grandmother was a genius, too. While she filled the glasses with ice, she thought about his grandmother’s accident. Even though she couldn’t read Michael’s mind, surely she could read his grandmother’s.
When Emily was young, her friends could feel her reading their thoughts, a gentle tugging at their minds. But now she could do it without causing any side effects at all. Unless there was something different about his family, something that would prevent her from reading their minds.
Michael set out the silverware and napkins, and Emily was impressed. Her father was the yardman, handyman, and bill payer. He stayed clear of kitchen work.
Walking into the dining room, she expected the furniture to look like her grandparents’ had been—dark, heavy, and old. But a glass-topped, wrought iron table and chairs, covered in cheerful yellow flowers, green leaves, and blue ribbons, greeted her. Paintings of golden daffodils, irises, and daisies hung on the yellow and white striped wallpaper. She couldn’t help but like Michael’s modern grandmother.
She set the glasses on yellow and blue pansy placemats while Michael carried the platter of corned beef behind her.
When they sat down to eat, Michael’s grandmother was studying her intensely, like Emily did when she tried her mind-reading trick.
His grandmother shifted her attention to her meal suddenly, as if she’d been caught doing what she shouldn’t be. She dug into the corned beef, slicing off portions for each of them. “Well, Michael, she’s quite lovely.”
Emily’s cheeks burned.
Michael smiled at Emily and winked.
If she’d known how embarrassing this would be...
“Michael says you’re interested in exploring the swamp. Not a safe thing to do, dear.”
He told his grandmother about Emily’s interest in the swamp? What an odd thing to mention after arriving home from the first day of school. Maybe something about her; what she looked like, the classes they shared, where she was from, but about her wanting to explore the swamp?
Emily carefully mashed her boiled potato and coated it in butter, adding salt and pepper. She looked up and found Michael and his grandmother observing her. She felt like she was on display. “I thought I’d check out the ghosts and—”
“No,” Michael said.
Only her parents could tell her no and get away with it. Well, the teachers at school, too, but not a friend.
“I’ll be careful.”
His grandmother was glazing her corned beef with mustard, while Emily was dying to find out about her accident this morning. “So...” Emily paused. What was she supposed to call Michael’s grandmother? She couldn’t call her Grandma. What if she was his mother’s mother? She wouldn’t be a Shipley then.
“Just call me Granny, if you like.”
She raised her brows. It was if…nah, his grandmother couldn’t have read her mind. “Thank you. I wondered how you felt after you had to go to the hospital this morning.”
Granny whipped her head around to look at Michael so fast Emily assumed she hadn’t wanted him to say anything about it. Or, had he fabricated the whole thing? His grandmother didn’t look injured in the least.
Michael focused on his meal with a hang-dog look, as if he’d been thoroughly scolded.
Emily’s skin prickled with goose bumps again. Michael’s feelings reached out to her, and she wished to console him, but how could she? She hadn’t a clue what was going on.
His grandmother’s cheeks flushed, and her brows knitted in a tight frown. With short, jerky movements, she busied herself with slicing her meat into tiny chunks. Poking at his cabbage, Michael remained deathly quiet.
Intending to get his grandmother to think about the boating mishap—if there really was one—Emily began again. “Falling off the boat must have been awful.”
No one answered her. But both watched her with such intensity, it almost made her squirm.
She took a sip of water. “I guess the emergency rooms around here are pretty efficient. They take care of you in a matter of hours and send you home just like new.”
Emily wasn’t getting anything from his grandmother. Just like Michael, a sky-high wall blocked her entrance into his grandmother’s thoughts.
Then a door opened to Emily’s mind just a sliver. For an instant, Granny looked at a flake of mustard on Emily’s lip. Emily picked up her napkin to wipe it away, but no mustard stained the paper cloth.
Granny lifted a brow. “You didn’t tell me she had special abilities, Michael.”
Chapter 4
Michael thought Emily had some kind of special gift. But now it appeared his grandmother proved it, though he missed how she’d done it.
He studied Emily’s flushed face and realized she was mortified her secret had been discovered. Poor thing. Like her, he kept his abilities under wraps. No sense in stirring up trouble.
“I wasn’t sure,” Michael said to his grandmother. “I knew something was the matter when the teacher asked me what happened to you this morning. His question just appeared out of the blue. It was like someone prompted him to ask. Plus, I heard rumors Emily had trouble with bullies at school. I was told one of the kids acted really strange, like someone put a curse on him all of a sudden.”
Despite fighting the notion they really knew about her unusual talent, Emily poked a couple of words into the conversation. “Charm,” she corrected. “Curse sounds so witchlike.”
She glanced from Michael to his grandmother. How had she known Emily had special abilities? She couldn’t believe it. Not as careful as she always was. “Do you have unique gifts, Granny? Does Michael?”
“She can read minds, Michael.”
Emily’s heart thundered. No one spoke the concept out loud. Not even her parents. It was just one of those things, like being left-handed. Different, but not something anyone ever talked about.
The two of them infuriated her while they continued to exclude her from the conversation. But Emily couldn’t leave Michael’s home until she knew the truth. If she could confide in someone like Michael and his grandmother, wouldn’t that make her life easier?
He turned his gaze from his grandmother and stared at Emily. “Really? She can read minds?”
Granny smiled. “Yes. You picked the right girl this time.”
“Do you read minds, Granny?” Emily asked. And then it dawned on her. His grandmother must have charmed her to wipe her face.
“No, not charmed, dear. I slipped a notion into your subconscious and briefly let you read my mind.”
“You made me think I had mustard on my face?”
His grandmother nodded.
Michael took a deep breath. “Wow. I knew it. Somehow, I knew she was different. But I wasn’t exactly sure how. I was afraid to—”
“Reach out to her? Touch her? Yes, she’ll certainly stir up something more than those teen hormones of yours.”
Not completely understanding, Emily shook her head. “I sense when he’s anxious. My own skin reacts to it as if I, myself, was experiencing the worry.”
“When you’re very close to someone, that will happen.”
“But we barely know each other. Then is it because Michael has a photographic memory, and I can read minds? I mean, we’re kind of connected because we both have special abilities?”
Michael and his grandmother exchanged glances. Emily knew at once there was more to Michael than met
the eye.
Emily’s cheeks heated. If he could read her mind and he lied about it... “What more can you do, Michael?”
He cleared his throat. “I have premonitions of the future.”
Emily sat back in her chair. Had he foreseen the trouble she would have with Red and his companions? Is that why he didn’t want her riding the bus? “Michael, what did you see about Red?”
He looked at his grandmother, and she nodded. Emily imagined he kept his gift secret for so long he felt he had to get her approval to speak about it. Or, maybe what he saw would upset her too much—
“I saw them coming after you when you got off the bus. They don’t normally get off at your stop because they live somewhere else in the neighborhood. That’s why you can’t ride the bus any longer.” He clenched his hands tight at the edge of the table, but when she looked at his fists, he moved them to his lap.
“If you see this, it’ll happen, right? I mean, you can’t change the future, can you?” Emily asked Michael.
He faced his grandmother, irritating Emily. Why did he have to ask his grandmother permission to speak about something that affected only Emily? Did he think he had to protect her?
She could handle herself. She scrunched her face up into a frown. “Tell me the truth, Michael. I’m not afraid of Red or Rocky or Daniel.”
“You can’t handle three of them at once,” Granny said, her voice soft and consoling. “Michael only wants to protect you.”
Folding her arms, Emily gave Michael a stern look. “Answer me. Can you change what you see in the future?”
“I don’t know. All I know is I have to try.” He squirmed in his seat, and his gaze darted back to his grandmother.
Slicing off a piece of cabbage, Emily didn’t believe him. “Thank you for the meal, Granny. You sure are a good cook.”
Michael’s face reddened. She assumed he was mad she switched topics.
What difference did it make, if he wasn’t going to answer her honestly anyway? If he didn’t want to tell her the truth, she’d do what she intended to do all along. Like explore the swamps. He didn’t want her going into the wetlands. Some danger waited for her there. But she already knew that.
