Taurus Eyes

by Bonnie Hearn Hill

  “Do you think playing Baylor’s songs will summon his spirit?” I asked.

  “Maybe, but not the way you mean. I just want to know how it felt.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Those musicians, all those years ago before we were born. And Sean Baylor. He wasn’t much older than I am now.”

  I knew he had probably done the same research that I had, but it seemed more personal to him, maybe because he was a musician.

  “It’s considered one of the beginnings of the Summer of Love.” The minute I said, the L-word, I felt myself flush.

  He reached out, took my hand, and squeezed.

  “It’s quite a place. You can feel it, can’t you?”

  “I can,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie.

  Once inside, it was if there were ghosts descending like thick, teasing fog with every step I took. The misty air was like slender icicles that slid beneath my scarf and along my neck.

  I pulled the scarf tighter. He let go of me and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

  “Okay, I admit it,” I said. “This place scares the hell out of me.”

  “Me, too.” He put his arm around me. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, Logan. I know that Baylor isn’t out here, but maybe something else is. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “We have our phones,” I said. “If it gets weird, I can call Tati. Or you could call Dirk.”

  “No way.” It was that sharp laugh, one of the few things I disliked about him, because it sounded meaner than he was. “He’s only interested in the women. I don’t have anyone here I can count on, only . . .” His voice trailed off, but I saw the rest of it in his expression.

  Only you. That’s what he was going to say.

  “I know you need to do this,” I told him, “and maybe I do too. That place over there looks about right. See the grass and the stage wrapped around it?” I didn’t have to mention that it was deserted and scary beyond belief. I was sure he already knew that.

  “You’re right.” He ran the rest of the way up to it, and when he turned back to me, his face reflected in the moonlight. He seemed to be transformed. His hair appeared longer, wild in the cold breeze. And his eyes were so large, so shadowed, that if I didn’t know better, I would be afraid.

  He looked like one of the black-and-white posters I had found online. I could see the music and the memories in his eyes. A thought floated through my mind. What if Baylor’s ghost really does exist? What if I’m looking at him?

  “Come up there with me.” He took my hand and helped me up onto the stage. Then he settled beside me on the edge of it and plucked the guitar strings with his finger.

  I knew the melody by now.

  “No,” I said.

  He ignored me and began to sing.

  “Was all we had to say to each other all we had to say to each other? Was forever only a feeling we shared for just one night?”

  He sounded like Sean Baylor. And, yes, he looked like him—those pale eyes, darker at the edges of the pupils. The shaggy, black hair catching the breeze as if alive. I realized that I was trembling.

  “You were right. I really should leave now.”

  He didn’t seem to hear. Instead, he changed the song, a frenetic guitar solo that chilled me as much as the fog had.

  “I said I have to go now,” I told him. “There aren’t any ghosts out here, and if there are, they probably don’t want to be disturbed.”

  “What’s wrong?” He stopped playing and reached for me.

  I pulled away. “This is creepy.”

  “It’s wonderful. Don’t you get it, Logan? He might have sat right here.”

  “I understand that, but I still want to go back,” I said. “I have a lot of things going on in my life right now.”

  “Like what?”

  “My mom and dad.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this to him. “They fight all of the time because she’s always on a golf tour and never home.”

  “Big deal. Your folks are having problems. At least they’re around you.”

  “My mom isn’t,” I said. “She’s gone most of the year. She didn’t even come back the way she said she would when I went home for the weekend.”

  “At least you know where she is. At least she knows you exist.”

  “What are you trying to say?” I reached for his hand and held on tightly.

  “My father,” he said. “He doesn’t know I’m alive. If I don’t find him, he never will know.”

  “Where do you think he is?” I asked.

  “That’s what I came to Monterey to find out. The real reason. And I am living proof that he’s no ghost.”

  Then it started to make sense, just a little. The way he looked. His voice. Still clutching his hand, I tried to find the right words.

  “Are you trying to tell me what I think you are?”

  He looked into my eyes. “I’m trying to tell you that Sean Baylor is my father.”

  I shivered. “That’s impossible.” But it wasn’t. In fact, now it all made sense. Why a musician would try to win a writing contest. Why Jeremy had wanted to come to Monterey. “You’re hoping that someone who knows him will see your article and tell him that he has a son.”

  “Right.”

  “That’s one way,” I said. “I have some other ideas too.”

  “I’d like to hear them.” He gave me this odd smile that turned into a hug, and then, a kiss. And, yes, I was kissing Jeremy Novack in the creepiest night-time venue in Monterey. And, yes, I’d never felt this sure about anything until this moment of my life.

  “I don’t know what to do with you,” he whispered.

  I ran my fingers into his wonderful hair and drew his face next to mine.

  “Maybe we should try to figure it out. Together.”

  I could vaguely hear the sounds of cars hurrying past, maybe even the ocean, and whatever ghosts the fog hid. Then he kissed me again, and I knew I would do whatever I must to help him, even if the cost was my own heart.

  NOTES TO SELF

  We talked. Over coffee, over burgers, and finally, overlooking the ocean. According to Jeremy, Sean Baylor had been performing under another name when he met Jeremy’s mom at a club in New York in the early nineties. They spent a couple of weeks together before he moved on, unaware that she had figured out his true identity. I understand now why Jeremy wants his article to be selected for the anthology. He is hoping Sean or someone who knows him will see it. I only hope Mercedes can help me fill in some blanks about what happened that night. And, if Baylor really is Jeremy’s father, he could not have died in 1967. Maybe Jeremy still has a chance to find him.

  I can’t sleep tonight and probably won’t. I just kissed Jeremy. I just kissed Sean Baylor’s son. And if that is true, if Baylor isn’t haunting the restaurant, who is?

  26

  TRUST IS A PRECIOUS COMMODITY. THE FIRE SIGNS

  (ARIES, LEO, AND SAGITTARIUS) WANT TO BE TRUSTED

  BUT DON’T ALWAYS WORK TO EARN IT. THE AIR SIGNS

  (GEMINI, LIBRA, AND AQUARIUS) TALK ABOUT TRUST.

  THE EARTH SIGNS (TAURUS, VIRGO, AND CAPRICORN)

  TAKE IT TO HEART AND FREQUENTLY COME THROUGH.

  THE WATER SIGNS (CANCER, SCORPIO, AND PISCES),

  EMOTIONALLY CONNECTED TO ISSUES AND PEOPLE,

  CAN SELDOM RISK IT AND KNOW FROM EXPERIENCE

  THAT THEY COULD SUFFER BETRAYAL IF THEY DO.

  WHATEVER YOUR SIGN, VALUE TRUST. LIFE WOULD

  WORK BETTER IF WE ALL TRUSTED MORE.

  —Fearless Astrology

  Unable to sleep, I figured out the rest of Jeremy’s chart early Tuesday morning. A Taurus with his Mars in emotional Cancer. Okay, I had to admit, Jeremy and I were both Fixed signs, both opinionated. While Taurus charges, Aquarius pulls away. Still, both share a strong desire to succeed. Maybe that would keep us connected. Maybe what we shared last night would be as real as it had felt at the time.

  I walked into class with Tati and Dir
k. For once, Jeremy was there ahead of us, in the same dark clothes, the same dark hair, the same dark expression. He glanced up at me, and his eyes lit up like a lamp in a pitch-black room. His lips reminded me all too well of last night.

  I went straight to him.

  “Hey, Logan,” Vanessa said. “In case you don’t remember, this is my seat.”

  “Keep it.” Jeremy shrugged and then walked with me to the front.

  “Whatever,” she called from behind us. “Losers.”

  “Vanessa.” We all jerked our heads toward Jaffa.

  “What, Henry?”

  “See me after class.”

  “Not again. I only meant . . .”

  “After class,” he repeated. If he had used that voice on me, I would have had to leave the workshop and jump into the ocean.

  Vanessa knew no shame. She fluffed her hair, crossed her legs, and grinned up at Jaffa. “I didn’t think it proper to mention this before, Henry, but a guy in here has been hitting on me. How can I go about reporting him?”

  I sensed Jeremy squirm. Oh, great. We were now going to have the great confession about the kiss at the restaurant, which would be followed by Jaffa banishing Jeremy from the workshop.

  “Vanessa,” Jaffa said, in a weary voice. “I have already told you that we can speak after class. Would you please respect my wishes?” To the rest of us, he said, “Rik McNeil and the Ghost Seekers crew will be here on Wednesday. It will be a rare opportunity for all of you, regardless of your topics. And speaking of your topics, I’d like you all to read from your work today.”

  Vanessa whispered to Candice, who asked, “What part of our work?” So now it was the Vanessa and Candice Show. It was stupid of her to speak up so fast after Vanessa had obviously directed her to.

  “That is your choice.” Jaffa tossed off his scarf as if the room had grown too warm for him. “Logan, could you clarify?”

  Everyone turned to look at me. I glanced over at Jeremy. He was wearing his usual arrogant mask, but when our eyes met, he gave me a smile so brief that I almost missed it.

  I smiled back and turned to Jaffa. “You’ve already looked at our leads,” I said, “and you told us the lead should be followed by the first major point the writer wants to make. That’s what I brought.”

  “Would you read it for us?” Jaffa asked.

  Vanessa sighed so loudly that I almost expected him to kick her out on the spot.

  I looked down at my paper. “Ghost or no ghost, with his Gemini Sun, Sean Baylor would never depart without keeping an eye on the past. The Air sign of Gemini is far too curious.”

  “Excellent, Logan.” Jaffa was clearly starting to like me. “Again, you’ve created questions, and questions create reader interest.”

  After we left class, Jeremy and I walked back to the dorms. He held my hand, and I was more determined than ever to help him find out what had happened to Sean Baylor.

  “Where do we go next?” he asked. The we sounded right and natural, but not for what I had to do now.

  “I’m going to find Mercedes and try to get her to tell me what happened the night Sean—I mean, your father—disappeared.”

  “I thought we were working together.” How quickly the distrust transformed his expression and his voice. As if he lived on the brink of doubt.

  “We are working together,” I said. “But, in case you haven’t noticed, you look just like your father.”

  “Ren Baylor hasn’t picked up on that.”

  “That’s because she isn’t aware of anyone but herself.”

  “I always wondered why he would want to disappear. I’m sure having her for a sister was part of it.”

  “Lucky that she didn’t notice the resemblance,” I told him. “Mercedes, though. She’s used to digging for information. We don’t know why your father disappeared, but it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want it made public.”

  He pulled me to him and lifted my chin so that our eyes met. “Is that the only reason you don’t want me to go with you? Because you think Mercedes might figure it out?”

  I jerked away. “What’s it going to take for me to prove myself to you?”

  “You have proven yourself. I just don’t have much experience trusting anyone. Other than my mom, of course.”

  “Mars in Cancer,” I said. “It makes sense. But you’re going to have to trust me if we’re going to find out what happened to your father.”

  “Please don’t get all crazy on me with the astro stuff.”

  “Astrology is not crazy,” I said. “Cancers frequently have mother issues, and even more of them have family issues. I need to go now, Jeremy. I don’t want to miss Mercedes.”

  “Please.” He reached out, took my hand, and squeezed it. “I don’t want you going there alone.”

  “Why not? She seems okay.”

  “Except that she was the last one seen with my father. You say they fought. What if she tried to kill him? You could be in danger.”

  Now, that was something I hadn’t considered. “You think so?”

  “Let me drive you, at least,” he said. “I’ll wait in the car if you think that’s the best way. Just don’t go there by yourself.”

  I felt my willpower dissolving like sand under the tide. He had that kind of dangerous pull on me.

  “All right,” I said. “If you promise to stay far enough away. If she sees you, I know she’ll figure it out.”

  “You asked what it would take.” He turned and slid his arms around my waist. I wanted to just stand like this and relish the warmth. “The answer is that you don’t have to prove anything to me, Logan. I really think I trust you.”

  In spite of his adoring expression, I felt a little let down. “Think is cool,” I said. “Let me know when you truly trust me. I can find Mercedes on my own.”

  “Logan, wait.”

  No time. I couldn’t risk having Mercedes figure out who he was.

  If he was. Now, I was the one doing the doubting, and I didn’t like the way it felt.

  NOTES TO SELF

  Must be my fiery Aries Rising, because it certainly wasn’t my pondering Aquarius Sun. I simply walked away from him. Still, I’m hoping that there will be a time when we will speak about it. When maybe he can explain why he can’t trust me completely. But that conversation won’t be happening today.

  27

  THE HIGHEST POINT THE SUN REACHES DURING

  THE DAY IS CALLED MID-HEAVEN OR TENTH HOUSE.

  THE PLANET IN THIS HOUSE REFLECTS YOUR GOALS,

  CAREERS, AUTHORITY FIGURES, AND THE INFLUENCE

  OF YOUR MOTHER OVER YOUR CHOICES IN LIFE. STUDY

  THIS PLACEMENT IN ORDER TO UNDERSTAND AND

  OVERCOME CAREER ROADBLOCKS AND ALSO TO BUILD

  UPON STRENGTHS THAT YOU ALREADY HAVE.

  —Fearless Astrology

  Scorpio was in my Tenth House. Emotional, fixed, often stuck in the past, not a quitter. Also secretive and loyal. And as for my mother, that was a little freaky. Maybe what was going on with Dad and her was getting to me more than I pretended. And, yes, I was emotional about wanting to get ahead. Today, I was going to use that Tenth House tenacity to get what I needed from Mercedes.

  I took a taxi to the newspaper office. Richard, my go-to security guard, wasn’t around. The guard on duty was about twenty, my height, and female.

  “I’m here to see Mercedes,” I said.

  “Down the hall in the break room.” The guard pointed and then looked down at her magazine. She wasn’t nearly as friendly as Richard. I hoped that she wasn’t his replacement, and that maybe this was only his day off.

  She returned to her reading, and I walked in the direction she had indicated. The hall gleamed, and I realized that the ugly green carpet had been replaced. The elevator door had been painted black, or maybe I was turned around. It wasn’t an elevator at all, only a recessed area in the middle of the hall.

  Ahead, I saw a room full of vending machines reflected by the surreal brightness of flore
scent light. The only window faced the hall where I stood. Mercedes sat at a round white picnic table. She wore a long gray skirt and a black sweater that contrasted with her frizzy silver hair.

  I stared at her through the window for a moment. Her head was bent forward, and she was massaging her neck with one hand. Tired, I thought, or maybe just thinking the way my dad did sometimes when he didn’t know I was looking.

  She looked up. I gave a little wave and stepped through the swinging door.

  “Observing me, were you?” she said.

  “I just wanted to be sure I was in the right room.” It was all I could do to hide my embarrassment and try not to sound defensive. “You mentioned that you don’t use your old office.”

  “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” She seemed to consider whether or not to let me off the hook for spying on her. “I e-mail most of my columns, but today I delivered the disc and spent time with some of my old friends.”

  I stood across from her at the table, still afraid to sit. “Thank you for agreeing to talk to me again.”

  “I’m having second thoughts about that.”

  “Why?” I gripped the back of the chair.

  “Ren Baylor. She came to see me. We had a long talk.”

  “So, you’re friends now?” I asked.

  “Hardly. But the fastest way to reconcile past differences is to find a common enemy. Remember that if you pursue investigative reporting.”

  “What common enemy?” She gave me a penetrating look. “Are you talking about me?”

  She nodded. “Ren feels you are—and these are her words—immature and meddling. I still have some contacts at the college. Not as powerful as hers. She wants us to join together to use those contacts.”

  “To help her get me thrown out?” I felt miserable. Scared.

  “Or at least to shut up.”

  “You can’t do that,” I said. “Please don’t.”

  She pulled out the chair beside her. “Sit down, will you? Frankly it’s not my style to pull strings, but, for once in her life, Ren has a point.”