by Sharon Sala
They laughed, and the awkwardness of the moment passed.
“We’d better be going,” Flynn said. “Tara told you where we’re going, right?”
Pat nodded. “Yes, to the movies, right?”
“Right.”
“Have fun. Drive safe.”
“Absolutely,” Flynn said.
“I’ll be home by midnight, Uncle Pat. If we have a problem, you know I’ll call.”
“See you later, alligator,” Pat said.
Tara grinned. “After while crocodile.”
And then they were gone.
They got to the movie in plenty of time to get popcorn, and they made it to their seats just as the lights were going down.
“Just in time,” Tara whispered.
Flynn nodded, then grinned. “You gonna eat all that by yourself?” he whispered.
Tara grinned, and put the popcorn between them as the movie began.
They laughed in all the right places, and flirted with each other during the slow spots. By the time the movie was over, Tara was pretty sure she was falling in love. She couldn’t say for sure, because it had never happened before, but whatever it was she was feeling when she was with Flynn made her weak in the knees.
Remember what I’ve taught you.
Tara sighed. Just when the going got good . . . Millicent. You didn’t exactly teach me anything. You just bossed me around.
Different way of saying that. Same results.
I remember everything.
Good. Leave them wanting and they’ll came back for more. Give it away and they move on to greener pastures.
OMG, Millicent. You make me sound like a cow.
I assure you, that was not my intention.
When the lights came up, Flynn took Tara by the hand and led her out of the theater. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Yes, but it already cost a lot to go to the movies, and we bought popcorn. You don’t need to spend all your money to make me happy.”
“I was thinking Taco Bell?”
Tara laughed. “That I’ll agree to.”
“You’re amazing, Moon girl.”
She shrugged. “I’m just used to watching what I spend, okay?”
Flynn squeezed her hand and leaned close to her ear. “And I appreciate that.”
“So, let’s go ring Taco’s bell,” Tara said, laughing as they headed out of the theater and into the parking lot.
Flynn was laughing at her joke when out of nowhere a familiar wall of hatred swept over her.
“What is it, honey?” Flynn asked immediately.
“That sick feeling is back, and the rage that comes with it is so awful. I don’t understand it. I can’t key in on it, but it keeps getting to me.”
“Come on, we’re almost at the car,” he said, and quickly got her inside and out of the parking lot.
The farther they drove from the theater, the better she felt.
“That was so bizarre,” she said, and then shuddered. “Ugh. I can’t describe how awful that feels. It’s like I’m going to be sick to my stomach, or something.”
“Are you sure you want to tackle Taco Bell? It’s not exactly easy on a queasy stomach.”
Tara managed a slight smile. “That rhymed. Way cool, Flynn. Easy on a queasy.”
He shook his head, then laughed. “You’re something,” he said. “So, Taco Bell, here we come.”
By the time they arrived, Tara managed to shake the feeling off sufficiently to do justice to a couple of tacos and some iced tea. Being with Flynn was so much fun, but the feeling in the parking lot had taken some of the joy out of the evening. She couldn’t help but remember how Flynn had wigged out on her the last time she’d felt that rage.
She wanted to believe that was behind them, but she couldn’t be sure. She lived a crazy life—a lunatic life—and it took a strong person to deal with it. Still, despite the bad feeling, tonight had been a blast, and it wasn’t over yet. No need borrowing trouble before it came.
“Want another taco?’ Flynn asked, as he finished off his fourth one.
“No way. I am so stuffed,” Tara said.
Flynn glanced at the clock on the wall, then at Tara. “Wanna drive out to Boomer?”
“To the lake?”
Flynn nodded.
Tara’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Was this where it ended? If she went, was he going to expect something she wasn’t ready to give?
Flynn’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he realized what she was thinking. “Relax, Moon girl. I’m not pushing, and I’m not expecting anything from you but your company.”
She sighed. “Sorry. I’m just not—”
Flynn grabbed her hand. “Never apologize for what you want . . . or don’t want. Never. Do you hear me?”
All the tension went out of her at once. “Then yes, but I’m gonna go to the little girl’s room before we leave, okay?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “I’ll be at the door.”
Tara headed for the bathroom without further concern. She trusted herself, and she trusted Flynn to keep his word.
I’ll be in the back seat, you know.
Tara rolled her eyes as she went into the bathroom. Of course you will. Do you need to go into the stall with me, too?
Sarcasm does not become you.
Then stop treating me like a five-year old.
Sorry. I’m still on the clock.
OMG, was she serious? You are so not being paid to keep tabs on me.
Go pee and stop arguing, please.
Whatever!
Tara was still fuming when she came out, but she didn’t let on. Flynn would want to know what could have possibly happened in the bathroom that would have made her angry, and she didn’t want to have to explain that Millicent would be riding shotgun in the back seat.
Flynn held up a small sack as they went out the door. “Dessert.”
“Yum. Are those cinnamon strips?”
“Yep.
“Double yum.”
“So, let’s go watch submarine races, what do you say?”
Tara giggled. It was what kids said when they went out to the lake to park. Like anyone could see submarines racing underwater. And like they would even be looking at the water when everyone knew they would be making out.
They got in the car and started out toward Boomer Lake. The scent of sugar and cinnamon filled the inside of the car as Flynn popped a CD into the player. Within moments, Kenny Chesney’s sweet country voice lulled Tara even more.
“I love his stuff,” Tara said.
“Yeah, me, too,” Flynn said. “He’s puts out a good vibe, you know?”
“Absolutely,” Tara said.
“Talk to me, Moon girl. Tell me things I don’t know about you.”
“Except for the fact that I see and talk to ghosts, I am so not interesting.”
“That’s your opinion, honey. Talk. Like what’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite holiday? Things I would have known about you if we’d grown up together, you know?”
“Oh. Yeah. I get it. So, I will if you will.”
“Deal. You first.”
“Um . . . my favorite color is blue. I love pecan praline ice cream and I take my Oreo cookies apart and lick the icing first. Halloween is my favorite holiday, for reasons you can imagine.” She grinned. “I mean . . . what other time can my spooky friends come out to play without freaking people out, you know?”
“Are you serious?” Flynn asked. “Like, people could see them?”
She nodded. “Sometimes. What about you?”
“Favorite color . . . red. Favorite holiday, Christmas. My favorite food is the meatloaf and mashed potatoes that my Mom makes.”
“Oh. My favorite food is fried chicken.”
“Can you cook?” Flynn asked.
“Are you kidding? Yes. How else would we eat? Uncle Pat is fair at cooking, but he’s better at reheating. The problem is, he mixes stuff up when he reheats it, which I hate. I like to know what it started out to be, even if it’s leftover.”
Flynn laughed out loud. “Yuck.”
Tara nodded. “Seriously yuck.”
They were still talking as Flynn turned off the highway and onto the road leading out to the lake. A few minutes later, he pulled up to a boat dock, then killed the engine, but left the CD playing.
“Wanna get out?” he said. “It might be a little cool.”
“I’ve got my hoodie,” she said.
He rolled down the windows, letting Kenny Chesney’s voice out into the night. “So, let’s go.”
They walked hand in hand to the dock. Flynn moved behind Tara, put his arms around her, pulled her close against his chest and rested his chin against her head. They stood without moving or talking, just watching the half-moon glow on the dark surface of the water while the music swelled with the accompanying calls of frogs and whippoorwills. An owl hooted off to their right, and somewhere in the distance Tara heard a coyote yip.
She sighed. Absolutely perfect.
Then Flynn suddenly turned her loose and turned her around to face him.
“So, Moon girl . . . may I have this dance?”
Tara’s heart skipped a beat, then she walked into his arms. They began to move, swaying to the music beneath the pale glow of a harvest moon on the battered boat dock at Boomer Lake. They danced through three songs, and even when the music was fast, they stayed in a slow, two-step pace as they fell farther and farther in love.
When the last song ended, Flynn stopped.
Tara looked up. His face was shadowed, giving him a different, almost scary good grown-up face. Her heart stuttered. He’s going to kiss me. And I am so going to kiss him back.
She put her arms around his neck.
It was all the urging Flynn needed. He lowered his head. Their lips met, briefly at first, barely touching, then he kissed her again, a little longer, a little harder.
Tara sighed and leaned into his embrace.
When he finally stopped, he gave her a last kiss on the forehead, then brushed a lock of her hair away from her eyes, tracing the shape of her cheek, then her lips with the tip of his finger. His voice was as soft as the breeze around them.
“You are so beautiful, Tara Luna.”
“Oh, Flynn,” she whispered. Her heart was hammering so hard she could hardly think.
Then Flynn groaned, and instead of kissing her again, hugged her hard and swift.
“I think it’s time I took you home,” he said.
Tara nodded, too moved to speak.
He took her by the hand and led her back to the car. “We didn’t eat that dessert,” he said, smelling the cinnamon sugar on the fried strips of flour tortilla as they got in.
“I just had mine,” Tara said.
Flynn grinned, more than pleased by what she’d said. “Thanks, honey,” he said. “I guess I did, too.”
He started the car and headed back into Stillwater. They were comfortably quiet as Flynn drove down Western Avenue, when all of a sudden, Tara got that sick, ugly feeling again.
Whoever was causing this was close. She turned around and looked over her shoulder, but there was nothing to see besides the headlights of dozens of cars coming and going.
“What is it?” Flynn asked.
“That feeling is back,” Tara said.
“Damn,” Flynn muttered. “Have you told your Uncle about this?”
“No.”
“Don’t you think you should?”
“What do I say? I get sick to my stomach every now and then, but I don’t know why? Knowing him, he would think I was pregnant. If I tell him I feel disembodied rage, he’ll totally freak. He might not ever let me leave the house, especially after what happened with Emmit Broyles.”
Flynn frowned. “I don’t like this.”
Tara flinched. Was this where he freaked out again? “Neither do I. I’m the one getting nauseated, remember?”
“Yeah. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just worried about you, okay?”
She relaxed. “I know. It’s creeping me out, too.”
The feeling followed them all the way to Duck Street, and all the way into the driveway, even though the street was deserted. Tara paid close attention as she got out of the car and as Flynn was walking her to the door, but didn’t see any cars parked nearby, or any passing traffic.
“Is it gone yet?” Flynn asked.
“Yes. I wish I knew where it was coming from.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. But I’m glad Uncle Pat’s home.”
“Good. Safe and sound, then,” he said, as she put her key in the lock. “I had an amazing time.”
Tara smiled. “I did, too. Thanks for everything.”
“Absolutely,” Flynn said, and one more time, they went into each other’s arms.
The kiss was sweet, but less intense than it had been at the lake, which was good. Tara was still trying to regain her good sense.
“Night, honey. I have to work until closing tomorrow, but I’ll call you tomorrow when I get a chance.”
“You better,” Tara said, and then stood on the porch until he got in the car and backed out of the driveway.
When she walked into the house, she was pleasantly surprised to realize the sick feeling had faded fast. This whole thing was confusing.
Then suddenly, she realized she’d left her purse in Flynn’s car, and it had her cell phone in it.
“Dang it,” she muttered.
Suddenly, she saw car lights coming back up their drive. She peeked out the window. It was Flynn. She hurried out on the porch only to be hit once again by that sick feeling as Flynn came running up.
What was going on?
“You forgot your purse,” he said.
Ignoring the nausea, Tara pasted on a grin. “I didn’t do it on purpose, but you’ve just earned yourself a second goodnight kiss.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Flynn said, as Tara kissed him soundly.
“Thanks so much for bringing it back.”
“Trust me, it was my pleasure,” Flynn said, and then headed back to the car.
He drove away, and just like before, the feeling faded.
Weird. Too weird.
Tara locked the door behind her and headed to the kitchen to get a cold drink before going to her room. She was getting a Dr. Pepper out of the fridge when Pat came into the kitchen carrying a glass. Her first thought was that he was drinking again, but when he bent down and kissed the side of her cheek, all she smelled was Dr. Pepper.
“I thought I heard you,” he said. “Was that Flynn coming back?”
“Yes. I forgot and left my purse in the car. I’m sure glad he saw it because my cell phone was in it.”
“Did you have a good time?” Pat grabbed a couple of cookies out of the cookie jar on the cabinet, then sat down at the table.
“The best,” Tara said. “The movie was funny. We ate tacos at Taco Bell, then went dancing.”
Pat grinned. “Wow. You did have a night of it. So, tomorrow you can sleep in. Glad you’re home.”
“Me, too. Night, Uncle Pat,” Tara said, and gave the other man in her life a goodnight kiss, too.
Pat picked up his cookies and headed back to bed. “Sleep well,” he said, and left her in the kitchen.
Tara topped off her Dr. Pepper, and was on her way down the hall when something hit her. Something so startling that it sent an i
nstant shaft of panic straight to her heart.
OMG.
She kept trying to remember if she’d ever felt sick when she was by herself. There hadn’t been a single time. Every time she’d felt sick, she’d been with Flynn. She’d just assumed all this time that the rage was aimed at her. But just a few minutes ago when Flynn had driven away, the feeling had gone with him. Then when he’d come back, it had too.
OMG. OMG.
What if the rage wasn’t aimed at her after all?
What if it was Flynn who was in danger?
Just when she thought everything about her life was turning normal—at least for her—had another mystery appeared? And if so, how was she going to make it go away? She had to figure this out before someone—like Flynn—got hurt.
(Continue reading for an excerpt from My Lunatic Life and information about the author)
Where did Tara’s Adventures Begin?
My Lunatic Life
Excerpt
Four days later, the dark shadow came back.
It was three minutes after four in the morning when Tara woke up needing to go to the bathroom. She was on her way back to bed when she sensed she was no longer alone. Her heart skipped a beat as the darkness between her and the hallway moved into her room. A normal girl’s first instinct would have been to scream or run away, but Tara was used to spooks. She stomped into her bedroom with her hand in the air.
“Look, Smokey . . . I’m bordering on PMS, so you don’t want to mess with me. State your business or make yourself scarce. And don’t go through me again to do it. I’ll tell Henry and Millicent to kick your behind so hard you’ll never be able to put two ectoplasmic molecules together again. Do you read me?”
The shadow shifted then disappeared through the floor.
“That’s better,” Tara muttered, then headed to the dresser, where she’d left her jewelry box. She dug through it until she found her Saint Benedict’s medal, fastened the chain around her neck, and then crawled back into bed. “Like I don’t already have enough to deal with,” she said wearily, then punched her pillow a couple of times before settling back to sleep.
All too soon, the alarm was going off and another strange day was in motion.
