Homecoming By The Sea

by Kathi Daley

  “I have no idea, but I’d love to try.” Alyson tilted her head. Her long blond hair swept the mattress. I missed my long hair. At some point along the way I’d decided a woman of my age needed to present a more professional appearance, so I’d cut it. Not super short. Around shoulder length.

  I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. I still wasn’t sure if Alyson was real. For all I knew, I was suffering the effects of driving three thousand miles in four days.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Alyson said. “And I can assure you, I’m real.”

  I opened my eyes. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “Duh.” Alyson rolled her eyes. “I’m you, remember? And no…” Alyson got up and began jumping up and down on the bed. “You aren’t going crazy. And yes, you’ll eventually come to love me.”

  Now I was sure I was having a hallucination. I never jumped on beds as Amanda or Alyson. Not even when I was a young child. Jumping on beds was something people like me simply didn’t do. “I’m going out to the car to get the rest of my things. I assume you’ll be gone when I get back.”

  Alyson got down off the bed. “Amanda, Amanda, Amanda. How do I make you understand? I’m not going anywhere. I live here. Haven’t you been paying attention?”

  “I’ve been paying attention, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept what I’m seeing. If you were me, you would act like me. Because you don’t, my only conclusion is that you’re a figment of my imagination.”

  Alyson walked over to me. We were exactly the same height, so her blue eyes looked directly into mine. “What happened to you? Don’t you remember being Alyson? Don’t you remember wearing jeans and going barefoot and having fun? Don’t you remember how happy you were once you were able to shed Amanda and her zillions of dollars, private schools, and designer shoes that felt like torture every minute you wore them?”

  I glanced down at the pantsuit I was wearing with matching pumps. I really was dying to kick them off and pull on some baggy sweats. Of course, Amanda didn’t own baggy sweats. “I do remember,” I said. “But that wasn’t real. Alyson wasn’t real. It was as if I took a vacation from my life, but somewhere inside I knew Amanda was always there, waiting to come out when it was safe to do so.”

  Alyson shrugged. “Suit yourself. If you’re going to empty that fancy car of yours that probably cost more than you paid for this house, you’d better hurry. It’s starting to rain.”

  Ghost me was right. It was starting to rain. I paused for just a moment and then hurried down the stairs to get the things I’d left in my trunk. When I returned, she was gone. Perhaps she’d been an illusion after all.

  Chapter 2

  Tuesday, May 22

  I woke the next morning to sunshine. The storm had come in like a lion, but I was so tired by the time I’d had my bath, slipped into my pajamas, and had a glass of wine, I was out like a light. I’d laid in bed and listened to the waves. I’d missed the way they lulled me to sleep at night. After I’d graduated from college, I’d bought an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, and most of the time I fell asleep to the sound of the climate control unit that guaranteed a steady temperature switching on and off.

  Sitting up, I looked around the room. Still no sign of Alyson. I guess she really had been an illusion. I headed into the bathroom. A hot shower, a cup of coffee, and a bran muffin and I’d be ready to conquer the world. I wanted to track down Woody and grill him for information regarding Booker’s murder, but I also wanted to clean up a bit and air out the house. Booker, whose real name was Rory Oswald, had been gone six months. One more day wouldn’t matter.

  I thought about the jolly old man I’d grown so fond of during my time in Cutter’s Cove. When I met him, he was retired, but he’d donated money to build the most awesome library I’d ever seen in the high school. Well, almost the most awesome. I had, after all, visited the Long Room at Trinity College in Dublin as a child, and if I had to grant the title of most awesome to a library, it would be that one.

  It was Booker’s own library, however, that had initiated the first visit to his home by the gang and me. We’d been trying to find a buried treasure and hoped he had old journals that would help us solve the riddle with which we’d been presented. Not only had he helped us accomplish our goal, but his enthusiasm had forged a bond between us that had endured until the day I’d left the small seaside town I’d called home for two years for the busy life I’d left behind on the East Coast.

  As I stepped into the shower, I found myself glad I’d taken the time to get the gas and electricity going last night. Being able to take a hot shower was going to make all the difference in my day. I felt as if I’d been driving for a lifetime, but it had been only four days. Four very long days. I probably should have broken the trip up a bit, but once I’d made the decision to come to Cutter’s Cove, I’d become impatient to be there.

  I turned off the water, pulled back the shower curtain, and reached for a towel on the rack next to the shower when Alyson appeared. I let out an involuntary screech. “You scared the heck out of me.” I pulled the shower curtain in front of me.

  “Sorry.” Alyson giggled. “I’ve been waiting for you to get up. Did you know you snore?”

  “I most certainly do not snore.” I wrapped the towel around my body.

  Alyson shrugged. “Whatever you say. What are we going to do today?”

  “Do?”

  “I haven’t been out in forever and I’m pretty sure if you go out, I can go with you.”

  “If you can go with me, why did you stay behind when I went back to New York?” I wrapped a hand towel around my hair.

  “Maybe I should clarify. I can go with you as long as you’re living in this house. It’s to the house I’m bonded. Can we have pancakes for breakfast?”

  I pulled on a robe and began drying my hair. “Pancakes are fattening.”

  “But we’re skinny. Please?”

  I turned off the hair dryer and looked at what I was sure was a hallucination. “Pancakes spike my blood sugar and then I’m hungry again an hour later. Besides, I haven’t been to the store yet, so I don’t have the ingredients for pancakes. I brought some bran muffins with me.”

  “Bran muffins are for when you’re old and irregular.” Alyson paused. “Is that it? Are you irregular from the trip?”

  “No, I’m not irregular.” I put my hand on my hip. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish getting ready. Alone,” I emphasized.

  “If I leave you alone, can we go into town and get pancakes?”

  She certainly was persistent. Maybe there was a part of me inside her after all. I groaned in frustration. “Fine. Whatever it takes to dry my hair without interruption.”

  Alyson disappeared as abruptly as she’d appeared. There was no doubt about it: I was totally losing my mind.

  I dried my hair, then used my curling iron to shape it and applied my makeup. It hadn’t been my plan to go into town today, but I did need to buy some groceries, and it wouldn’t hurt to visit my old friend, Chan, to find out what in the heck was going on with my annoying shadow. Chan owned a magic shop and had helped us out with all things mystical on a number of occasions. Maybe he would not only know what was going on but how to fix it.

  After dressing in a pair of designer slacks, a silk blouse, and low-heeled pumps, I headed downstairs, where I found Alyson waiting near the door. “Is that what you’re wearing to get pancakes?” she asked.

  I looked down at my clothes. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “It’s so… so …” Alyson threw her hands into the air. “I can’t think of a way to finish that sentence that wouldn’t be rude. Let’s go before you change your mind.”

  I picked up my purse and headed out to my car. Alyson appeared in the passenger seat after I climbed into the driver’s seat. I clasped my seat belt and adjusted the mirror. “Buckle up,” I instructed.

  “Really?” Alyson looked at me with a raised eyebrow.<
br />
  “Yeah, okay. I guess that isn’t necessary. So, where do you want to go for pancakes?”

  “Mom always made the best pancakes, but I guess popping over for a visit isn’t in the cards. How about that breakfast place downtown? Felicia’s?”

  “The one with the red-and-white awning?”

  “Sounds right.”

  I started the car and pulled onto the private road that led out to the highway. This really was the most bizarre morning I’d had for quite some time. “Do you like music?” I asked as I reached for the radio.

  “I’m you. If you like music, I like music.”

  “If that’s true, why are we going for pancakes? It seems if I like bran muffins, you should like them too.”

  “You don’t like bran muffins. You’ve compared them to eating sawdust. You only eat them because you think you should. You do, however, like pancakes. You just won’t let yourself have them.”

  I supposed Alyson had a point; I did prefer pancakes to bran muffins. Still, if I let her make all the decisions, I was going to end up weighing two hundred pounds before this visit was over.

  I pulled up in front of Felicia’s and got out. Luckily, a table was open near the window. It felt friendly and nostalgic, being back in a place that, before today, had seemed more like a dream than a memory. I ordered a cup of coffee and a short stack of pancakes. Once they were in front of me, I buttered them and poured the warm maple syrup over the top.

  “Um. These really are delicious,” I said after taking my first bite. “I haven’t had pancakes for years. I’m glad you badgered me into this.”

  “You might not want to talk to me when we aren’t alone,” Alyson suggested.

  I looked around the room. Everyone was staring at me. Of course, I was the only one who could see ghost me. I smiled at the woman in the booth closest to me, then took a sip of my coffee.

  “I can taste the sweetness,” Alyson said. “Apparently, whatever you eat, I can experience. Can we have pizza for lunch?”

  “We’ll see,” I said, before I had time to monitor myself. There was no doubt about it: a stop at Chan’s was an absolute next on the agenda. If Alyson and I really had become fragmented, there had to be a way to slap us back together again.

  ******

  The magic shop, in the oldest section of downtown Cutter’s Cove, featured white curtains framing a large picture window on the outside. Inside, shelves of books as well as glass jars filled with all sorts of strange-looking things, including eye of newt and frog legs, drew me in and reawakened my curiosity. But I wasn’t here to shop. Today I was here for answers.

  “Amanda; Alyson,” greeted Chan, a small Asian man who seemed to glide in the air from out of nowhere. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  “It’s good to see you.” I smiled at the mysterious man who seemed to know everything.

  “I’ve prepared tea.” Chan locked the front door and changed the “Open” sign to “Closed.” “Let’s go in the back and we can chat.”

  We followed Chan down the hallway I’d traveled many times before. We entered the room he used for rest and meditation, and I sat down on one of the large pillows while he poured us each a cup of the tea he had somehow known to prepare.

  “I guess you know I’m here to ask about Alyson.” I angled my head toward ghost me, who was examining a jar of eyeballs. “I was quite surprised to find her in my bedroom when I arrived at the house last night.”

  “Alyson is the part of you that is attached to the house.”

  “Told you,” Alyson said, a grin on her face.

  “Yes, she informed me of that. And I guess I sort of understand. I do have questions, though. For one thing, why is she so different from me?”

  Chan took a sip of his tea before answering. “Alyson is the part of you that you shed when you left Cutter’s Cove for New York. She is the part you felt would not fit into your old life. She is the part who possesses an innocent heart and an ability to suspend disbelief. She is the part of you where magic lives.”

  I took a sip of my own tea. Orange spice; my favorite. “I see.” I glanced at Alyson, who looked content. “What I really need to know is how to get her back on the inside. It’s a little unnerving, having her running around on the outside.”

  “Hey, I’m right here,” Alyson complained. “No need to talk about me like I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

  I turned and smiled at ghost me. “I’m sorry. I guess that was rude.” I turned back to Chan. “Can you help me?”

  “It is up to you to reunite the two parts. When you are ready to allow Alyson in, the two parts will be whole again.”

  “Let her in? What do you mean?”

  Chan smiled. “It is not for me to say.”

  “How will I know if I’ve been successful?” I asked.

  Alyson rolled her eyes. “’Cause if you’ve been successful I’ll be tagging along on the inside, not the outside.”

  I looked at Chan. “Are you sure Alyson is really an aspect of me? She seems so different. Not just because she seems to have been stuck in some sort of eternal teenage persona, but even at that age I wasn’t quite so…”

  “Fun?” Alyson provided.

  “Silly,” I corrected.

  Chan chuckled. “I can assure you, Amanda, Alyson is as much a part of you as any other aspect.”

  As usual, I left Chan’s with more questions than answers. It would seem I’d stop coming to him for help, although if I were honest, he always did seem to have the answers, even if it seemed to take me quite a lot of time to understand what he was saying.

  “So, can we have pizza?” Alyson asked.

  “We just had pancakes.”

  “We ate like three bites. Please. Just a slice.”

  I let out a breath and agreed. I supposed a slice wouldn’t hurt, and I’d been craving Pirates Pizza since the moment I crossed the Oregon state line. It not only had the best pizza in town, it had the best pizza anywhere.

  It was early for lunch, so the place was mostly deserted when we walked in. I took a deep breath of delicious goodness as I walked up to the hostess desk.

  “I’ll be right there,” someone called from the kitchen. “Go ahead and take a seat anywhere.”

  “Trevor?”

  A tall man with dark brown hair and a boyish grin popped his head out the door of the kitchen. “Alyson?”

  “I go by Amanda now, but yes.”

  “Well I’ll be.” Trevor crossed the place and lifted me into his arms. Alyson laughed with glee as he spun me around and around. “I can’t believe you’re actually standing here in my pizza joint.”

  “Not standing. Spinning,” I corrected.

  “Sorry.” Trevor stopped spinning and set me on the floor in front of him. “I just can’t believe you’re here. You cut your hair.”

  I put a hand to my shoulder-length hair. “Yes. Quite a while ago.”

  “It looks good. Different, but good. How’s the job? Are you still working for that magazine?”

  “I’m a graphic designer for an advertising agency now. The job requires long hours, but I like the creative outlet it provides.”

  “So, you’re still in New York?”

  I nodded.

  Trevor lowered his eyes. “It sounds as if you aren’t here to stay.”

  “I’m just here for a few weeks. Or really, as long as it takes.”

  “Takes for what?” Trevor asked.

  “I came to find Booker’s killer.”

  Trevor took my arm and led me to a booth. “I’m so glad you’re here and so glad to hear you say that. I can’t believe someone would kill that sweet old man. I’ve talked to Woody about it, but he’s totally stumped. I’ve been wishing you were here, and now you are.”

  I smiled. “I guess wishes do come true.”

  “Absolutely. Now that you’re here, we’ll finally get some answers. We need to call Mac. It’s time to get the Scooby gang back together.”

  “Is Mac in town?” I asked.<
br />
  “No. She works for a big tech firm in California. We chat on the phone or by Skype a couple of times a week, and we’ve discussed the Booker thing several times. She even suggested the two of us should look in to it. It seemed sort of pointless without you. But now that you’re committed, I know we’ll finally bring Booker’s killer to justice.” Trevor took out his phone. “I’ll call her.” He took a couple of steps away to make his call.

  I’d met Trevor and Mac on my first day of school in Cutter’s Cove. To say I was like a fish out of water there would be putting it mildly. I’d grown up in a family from old money with old-world ideas. I spent my summers in the Hamptons, vacationed in Europe, lived in a penthouse apartment, partied with the wealthy, and attended an exclusive, expensive private girl’s school. The minute I arrived in Cutter’s Cove, I became a middle-class girl living a middle-class life. They’d taken me under their wing, becoming instant friends who’d shown me the ropes, taken me to my first football game, and taught me how much fun life could be in a small town.

  “Don’t forget the pizza,” Alyson said as Trevor prepared to hang up.

  “I won’t forget.”

  “Won’t forget what?” Trevor asked.

  “Pizza. I’ve been dreaming about it for three thousand miles. Why are you here exactly?”

  “I own the place.”

  “Own it?” I’m not sure why that surprised me, but it did. In high school, Trevor had been the most popular boy on campus. He was funny and friendly, as well as being the quarterback for the football team and the shooting guard for the basketball team. To top it all off, he was exceptionally good-looking, which made most of the girls swoon whenever he paid them any attention. What he hadn’t been was academically ambitious.

  “I bought it five years ago. I thought I might have mentioned it.”

  I didn’t respond because Trevor and I both knew we hadn’t talked about anything much in the past five years. My fault, not his. He’d tried to keep the long-distance friendship going; I’d been the one who let it die.

  “So, is Mac on board?”