Ever Lost (Secret Affinity Book 2)

by Melissa MacVicar

  He cocks his head. “Am I going to find out the reason afterward?”

  “No. Not right away but maybe… someday.”

  Our waitress drops off the first set of dumplings, along with two pairs of chopsticks. “You need silverware?”

  “No,” we both say at the same time.

  “Okay. You enjoy.” She smiles with a row of pearly whites that are almost unreal then goes back toward the kitchen.

  Mateo unwraps his chopsticks without another word, but I can see his brain churning. I rest my chin on my hands and bat my lashes at him. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And it’s all for a good cause.

  “When would you like your kiss, before or after the visit?”

  He glances up at me, chewing the second dumpling he just popped in his mouth. “Oh, so now you’re flirting. Now that I’m weirded out by you, you think you can pull out the kissing card to rein me back in. Well, I’m not some little Chihuahua you can yank around on a leash. I have feelings. And a brain.”

  “Kissing card?” I raise one eyebrow at him.

  “Yeah. And don’t get all cute like that with your pouty lips and your smoky eyes. I’m freaked out by you right now.”

  “Can we just put this one weird little thing in a box in the attic and pretend everything is fine? I promise I will explain it to you.”

  “Someday?”

  “Yeah. Someday.”

  He douses the last dumpling with soy sauce, turning it over with his chopsticks. “Okay. I guess. Do you promise this is the only weird thing you’re going to ask me?”

  “Ever?”

  “Yeah. Ever?”

  “No. But for now, yes.”

  He sighs and eats his dumpling. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Thanks!” I reach over and take his big mitt of a hand and squeeze it.

  “But I get two cheek kisses, one now and one to be named later, at a time of my choosing.”

  “Fine. But promise you’ll never even hint about it to Charlie.”

  “The boy who beats up any dude who comes within four feet of you?” Mateo chuckles.

  “Promise or no kiss,” I say.

  “Fine. Promise. Pull your chair over. And take your time, please.”

  I glance around then slide my chair out in the walking area between the tables. I get right next to him because there are no arms on the chairs. Mateo watches me, an expectant grin on his face.

  “You have to turn to the side so I can do it.” I touch his chin with my fingertips.

  “Okay,” he mumbles. And for once, he looks nervous.

  I rest my hands on his shoulders and lean over until my lips are close to his face. “Thanks for understanding,” I whisper then press my lips against his cheek.

  His skin feels soft, and his smell—Speed Stick and woodsy soap—fills my senses with him. I even close my eyes, which is sort of wrong because that’s like really kissing, not just cheek kissing. Afterward, I don’t pull back right away. I stay sort of frozen beside him, mesmerized by one stupid little cheek kiss. That was definitely not supposed to happen. After a few more moments, I shake free and scrape my chair back across the floor. Mateo stares at me, looking dazed.

  I clear my throat. “So Sunday? Can you do it Sunday afternoon? I’m going to call them tonight.”

  He clears his throat and nods. “Yeah. Sunday sounds good.” He stares at my lips.

  I avert my eyes and try to clear my head. I shouldn’t be thinking so hard about this, and I definitely shouldn’t be wondering about the promised kiss to be named later.

  Jade

  Chapter 18

  I stare into the water, trying to will something to appear, anything. After two minutes of nothing, I say, “I can’t. It won’t work.”

  “You can, chou chou. You can. Stop doubting yourself.”

  The scrying bowl is made of smooth, black stone, like marble but not as heavy. A single taper wafts the smell of cedar and mint over the room. According to Noemie, cedar opens psychic channels, and mint attracts spirits. She is trying to get me to see into the future. I’m too scared, though. Maybe I don’t want to see what’s going to happen.

  “Why don’t we try the past, then?” Noemie says.

  She just read my mind, which kind of sucks. I hate when she does that. She says she’s not really reading my mind, just reading me, but it’s still unsettling.

  “Perhaps you have a question for this ghost. Avery. Ask your question and direct your power to the bowl. Into the water. The water will follow where you lead.”

  I look into the water and wiggle my shoulders, trying to loosen my tense joints. The sensation reminds me of the time I tried to draw out Lydia back in Nantucket, when she possessed me and everyone found out what I could do.

  Avery. I picture him—not dripping wet but how he looks in photographs from before he died—young and smiling, dressed in a bow tie and crisp khakis, a man of cold, hard mathematical facts. An image starts to take shape on the surface of the water. Avery’s talking to a girl. They look pained, as if they’re having a disagreement.

  I can’t hear them, although they are clearly talking. Avery touches her arm. She pulls it away. Her features come into focus. It’s Blakely Bettencourt, the girl I looked up online, the girl who had the affair with Fraser.

  A door creaks, and air rushes into the room. The image evaporates off the surface of the water like fog. I exhale harshly and sit back in my chair. Maria, the older lady with the head scarf who acts as Noemie’s assistant, is in the doorway that leads back into the shop.

  “What is it?” Noemie snaps.

  “It’s Jeanette. She won’t leave until she sees you,” Maria says.

  “Fine. Send her in.” Noemie waves her hands in the air. “We have lost the vision anyway.”

  When Maria scurries away, Noemie says, “You’ll now see how I deal with difficult clients.”

  A heavyset woman sweeps into the room and drops into a chair at the table. Her skin and her hair are almost the exact shade of light brown, but I can see from the roots of her braids that her hair is usually darker.

  Noemie greets her then says, “Jeanette, this is my protégé, Jade. She’s learning my art and will join us today.”

  I touch my key as I smile at Jeanette. Sadness rolls off her like heat off the pavement on the hottest day in August.

  Jeanette sends me a wary look before directing her attention back to Noemie. “Whose child is she?”

  I sense her skepticism. She doesn’t want to share her troubles with someone who will gossip about her.

  “No one you know,” Noemie answers. “Please tell me what is wrong. I am busy with Jade. I have other work to do.”

  After one more glance in my direction, Jeanette launches into her story. “He won’t touch me. He knows what I want, and he refuses to give it to me. Can you give me something that will make him want to be with me?”

  Noemie’s face goes blank. Her expression is a smooth mask of serenity. I can feel her sending calming energy to Jeanette.

  “Chéri, I have made you fertile, but if this man doesn’t love you, perhaps a baby with him is a bad idea.”

  Jeanette frowns. “No, Noemie. He is my one. He loves me. He does. He is just afraid.”

  “Of what is he afraid?” Noemie sounds sweet, her voice like sugar sprinkled on a strawberry, but her question brings tears to Jeanette’s eyes.

  I look away, pretending to study the bottles of oil on the table. This feels too personal to watch.

  “I don’t know,” she moans and wrings her hands. “He says he’s too old, and he has enough children. But I love him. I do.”

  “I know, chéri, but I cannot use my gift to bring unwanted babies—”

  “I want one!” Jeanette slams her fist down on the
table, making the candles and bottles and even the bowl jump. Her mood has taken a sharp turn, so sharp, I gasp.

  “This I know. I know, and I understand. But my powers, they have limitations. If I do this for you, there will be consequences. It is dark magic, and I cannot control the outcome.”

  “You did it for Mimi! I know you did!” Jeanette shouts.

  “Mimi only needed fertility. Not dark magic. For this man to submit, it would require a dark spell.”

  “I don’t care. I want you to do it.”

  The look in Jeanette’s eyes, her wild desperation, sends a shiver down my spine. She’s unstable. She’s come unhinged.

  “Even if it means a sick baby, chéri? Or a death in your family? These are the things you must consider. A price will be paid.”

  “Yes. I will risk it,” Jeanette says firmly.

  “You must think on this. You must think until the full moon next week. I will give you pomegranate and sage to use until then. You need these for clarity and wisdom. You need to think about your choices as you use them. Do you understand?”

  Jeanette vigorously bobs her head. “Yes. And then you’ll do it?”

  “If it is still what you desire, I will. Now go and tell Maria what I have said. She will give you what you need. And make an appointment next time. You cannot interrupt me with my protégé again. You should apologize to her.”

  She glances at me, looking reluctant. “I am sorry, child. Sorry to interrupt your lesson.”

  “It’s fine,” I say because this woman is sort of terrifying.

  The fact that she is so desperate for a baby that she’d risk her loved ones’ lives scares me. I wonder if this is what Noemie does for a living, dealing with crazy people like Jeanette who want what they shouldn’t have.

  “You know, Jeanette,” Noemie says, “I never had children. I wondered sometimes why God did not give them to me, but I did not lament it as you do. I moved on. And then, the virgin sends me this girl who looks so like a daughter I might have had, one who even shares my gifts. So you see, maybe God has a different plan for you, a plan you have not yet seen.”

  Jeanette has her head bowed, but she peeks up at me through her lashes. I’m not sure how to react to Noemie saying I am like a daughter sent to her by the virgin. I already have a mother, but it is a little strange how much Noemie and I look alike.

  “You must pray for clarity, chéri. You must seek God’s plan for you and not try to make your own destiny. A dark destiny is not something I wish for you. It was not something I chose for myself, even in my most desperate times.”

  I wonder what dark magic would help Jeanette. Maybe Noemie was going to make a voodoo doll of that poor man with needles stuck in its heart and head.

  “I will do as you ask, Noemie. I will pray,” Jeanette says. She nods to me as she rises to leave. “Good-bye, child.”

  I make a mental note to ask Noemie what happens with this lady. If I’m not here to see it, I want to know the ending to her story.

  Jade

  Chapter 19

  The house, a narrow colonial with perfectly manicured shrubs, sits close to the road. The beige clapboards set off the black shutters. An older-model Volvo is parked in the paved driveway. This is a home where a math teacher grew up—orderly and tidy.

  “So what did you say to them?” Mateo asks, as he parks the car.

  “Not a lot. Just that I was a student. Can you play along? I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen.”

  “I guess, yeah.” Mateo shrugs. “You ready?” He puts his hand on the door handle.

  I take a deep breath. “Yep.”

  We walk to the front door, and I ring the doorbell. A man opens the door after only a few seconds. He’s sort of round with salt-and-pepper hair and wire-rim glasses.

  “Jade?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yes. Hi.”

  A woman appears behind him. She’s chubby, too, but with short dark hair that’s probably dyed, since there’s no gray. They both look curiously at Mateo.

  “Oh, this is my friend Mateo,” I add.

  “Come in. Come in.” Mr. Avery pushes open the storm door.

  Mateo and I pass over the threshold and stop in the entryway. My mouth goes dry. I can’t believe I am actually going to lie to these nice people who are grieving after the death of their only son.

  The woman bobs her head. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mrs. Avery.” She points to the right. “Come in and have a seat.”

  We walk into the living room. Mateo and I sit on the beige couch, while Mr. Avery perches on one of the two matching chairs. I spot a portrait of the younger Mr. Avery on the mantel.

  “Can I get you some lemonade?” Mrs. Avery asks.

  “No, thank you.” I smile and try to steel my wilting resolve.

  She sits in the other chair next to her husband. “We are so glad you called, Jade. We love hearing about David from his students. We like knowing he hasn’t been forgotten.”

  “It’s such a terrible thing,” I say. “I can’t believe he’s gone.” I can feel Mateo watching me as he shifts his weight on the couch.

  “We can’t either,” she says. “And we know there’s more to the story. David would never have done this.”

  “Did you see him that Friday before it happened?” Mr. Avery asks.

  “Yes. I did,” Mateo says. “I had him for Algebra two.”

  I smile tightly. “We were in the same class.”

  Mateo nods. “Yeah. And he seemed fine. Nothing to show he was upset about anything.”

  “Well, David was a professional,” Mrs. Avery says, looking sad. “Even if he was having problems, he never would have shown it to his students. He loved his students and only wanted the best for all of you.”

  “Do you know if he kept a journal?” I ask.

  “Oh, I don’t think so. He was very math focused, not really a literary type.” She smiles and glances at her husband.

  “Why do you ask?” Mr. Avery says.

  “Oh, I was just thinking it might help us come to terms with what happened,” I say. “To have some answers. I just feel like I want to know why, and I’m sure you do, too.”

  They both stare at me for a moment. Tears spring to Mrs. Avery’s eyes.

  “I’ll be right back,” she says then leaves the room.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”

  “It’s okay,” Mr. Avery says. “I wish he had kept a journal. If he did, it would have probably been on his laptop, but we couldn’t find anything. The police assured us they fully examined his computer. That’s how they found the note. But that note…” He shakes his head.

  “What about it?” I ask.

  “Well, it didn’t seem like David, but I guess he wasn’t himself if he was planning to… do what he did.”

  “Maybe in his things at school? In his office?” I suggest.

  “They searched there, too. We had to leave all that for his replacement. Even his plan book, which we did get to look through. They said they’d give it to us after the new teacher had a chance to use it for planning purposes.”

  Mrs. Avery returns, wiping her nose with a tissue. “Yes, I need to call about that. He had all kinds of notes and things written in there. I really want that back.”

  “He had a plan book and a little datebook,” Mateo offers. “I remember him writing appointments and stuff in the datebook.”

  Mr. Avery looks at his wife. “Did we get a datebook?”

  She gets a thoughtful look on her face. “No, but now that you say that, we did get a school calendar like that from the year before. So maybe it’s still in his office. Or at his house.” Mrs. Avery’s face lights up.

  This could be it! Fraser might have taken it because it contained incriminating
notes about him and Blakely. While they are talking, I surreptitiously scan the room for other Avery artifacts. I need to find things that I might be able to use later to get a vision. I don’t see anything except that picture, and I’m guessing they’re not going to be willing to give that to me. I can tell Mateo is getting antsy, but I’m not ready to go.

  “I’m interested in going to Bowdoin,” I say. “I know Mr. Avery went there, too. Did he like it?” I know his alma mater from his obituary online.

  Mrs. Avery seems pleased. “Oh yes, David had a wonderful time there. He would love that he might have inspired you to go. He was so passionate about his students’ learning. Was math your favorite subject, Jade?”

  “Umm…”

  Mateo jumps in. “No. But Mr. Avery was great at helping struggling students. Right, Jade? He really was an inspiration in that way.”

  Mrs. Avery says, “We’re so glad you came today. It’s so nice to hear from some of his students about how much he meant to them. Were you able to come to the memorial service?”

  “I couldn’t. I was away,” Mateo says. “And Jade was at her mother’s house that weekend.”

  “So you didn’t get a marble?” Mr. Avery asks.

  I cock my head. “A marble?”

  Mrs. Avery stands. “We gave marbles from David’s collection to his students that attended. I’ll go get the jar so you can pick one.”

  Sweet! Something like the marble is just what I need.

  Mrs. Avery goes up the stairs and returns with a glass jar half-full of colorful marbles. “David collected these. He loved vintage ones the most.” She sets the jar on the coffee table. “Pick a good one.”

  Mateo

  Chapter 20

  Jade is quiet as we drive out of Ipswich. She keeps glancing at me, rolling that stupid green marble back and forth across her palm.