by Sally John
“And the scent! Oh my gosh. Sweet flowers are right outside the window.”
Liv nearly clapped her hands. She hadn’t thought of the large plant growing near the back corner of Cottage Eleven, the one she had pampered and coaxed into blooming again. “That’s jasmine.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
“Isn’t that funny? Well, between the smell and the sound, the room was so soothing. But still I can’t believe I slept. I mean, on a rollaway in a strange house wearing someone else’s clothes. How goofy is that?” She drew a deep breath, her smile and twinkle fading. “Especially since I haven’t really slept in almost six months.”
“Six months?”
“There was a tornado.” She inhaled again deeply and blew out loudly. “My house is gone and everything I owned. Well, except for my bicycle because I rode it to work that day, and that’s where I was when the tornado struck. It didn’t hit the restaurant or the town, for that matter. I live—I lived on a farm.”
A tornado? The poor child. “I’m so sorry. You and your family weren’t harmed?”
“No. I mean, I wasn’t. I don’t have any family. No siblings or cousins. My grandparents are gone. My mother died three years ago. There were only the four of us.”
“No dad?”
“Uh, my mom, uh, wasn’t sure who he was. He was just passing through town. She was only eighteen.”
Oh my! “I’m so sorry. But you had friends to help you after the tornado? A special young man? Oh, dear. I’m snooping. Bad habit.”
“That’s okay. I think I need to talk. Friends, yes. Special guy, no.” She grimaced, as if to say there had been one at some point and that it had not ended well.
“These past months must have been about the worst in your life.”
“Yeah.” She breathed out the word, as if grateful for Liv’s two cents’ worth of sympathy. “I’d say the worst. So, you see? It doesn’t make any sense why I could sleep here right after I lost everything again. But then, nothing has made sense since the instant I stuck my foot in the ocean and felt like I’d come home. Everything about San Diego is familiar. Even the freeways. Back home, Valley Oaks doesn’t have one stoplight and the highways are two-lanes through farmland. The very first day I got here, I zipped along six lanes of traffic as though it were old hat and I drove straight to the Seaside Village beach without taking one wrong turn.”
Liv held the teacup to her mouth to hide a smile. On second thought, Jasmyn Albright was not in the least bit mousy.
“Then my things were stolen, but I was rescued and treated like a princess. I didn’t even have to ask for cream for my coffee. It was right there in the fridge. Poof! Like magic. And I slept for the first time since my house was crushed into a pile of matchsticks. To tell you the truth, it’s getting a little scary. And I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”
“My goodness, that is a curious chain of events, isn’t it?” Liv set down her cup on the small table between the chairs and cleared her throat. “Why did you choose the Seaside Village beach over the others?”
“I read about it online.” She shrugged. “It sounded like the prettiest one.”
“I think it is. Well. Would you like my take on things?” She had learned to ask permission. In her crazy coot days she’d had a tendency to jump in with both feet and splash others who did not want to get wet. They seldom came back for more.
“Okay?” Jasmyn’s voice went up as if she asked a question.
Liv heard it as assent, though, and measured her words. If she said that the Holy Spirit prompted her to stand at the gate yesterday so that she would see Jasmyn in distress and be able to help, the girl might run off. If Liv explained that she had walked through Cottage Eleven, sprinkled holy water around, and prayed for Jasmyn to feel like a princess in it, the girl would hightail it out of there for sure.
Liv chose neutral territory. “Life is a mystery, and it hardly ever makes sense. All I know for sure is that you ended up here when you needed help. And it was Labor Day when no one was working, and we could easily pool our resources. Coco, by the way, donated the cream. She insisted that you have it because she uses it in her coffee.”
Jasmyn gave a little smile. “Why could I sleep?”
“You felt safe here.”
“I felt safe enough in my Valley Oaks studio apartment. I even felt safe at the Marriott. But I didn’t sleep well in either place.”
Lord, have mercy. The girl couldn’t sleep well in those other places because deep down she did not feel truly safe, not yet. How could she? Six months was nothing. Last night happened only because…
Well, Liv knew why.
She jumped in with both feet and tried not to splash too much. “Then maybe you slept here because I prayed a special blessing on your sleep. It had been such a dreadful day for you.”
Jasmyn inched forward in her chair, no doubt preparing to skedaddle.
Liv smiled gently. “That sounds zany, I know. But I pray about everything.”
“Is this…” Jasmyn whispered haltingly. “Is this place a, um, a cult?”
“A cult?” Liv pressed her lips together before a burst of laughter escaped. She cleared her throat. “My goodness. I’ve never been asked that before. No, Jasmyn, dear. We’re not a cult. You just happened to catch us at one of our infrequent all-Casa parties. I suppose each of us is a little kooky in some way. No one, though, is what I would call off-the-chart strange.”
Jasmyn bit her lip and looked down at her mug.
Liv said, “Maybe you think I’m off-the-chart strange?”
She looked up, her eyes wide. “I don’t know anyone who prays about everything and gets answers.”
“Well, now you do.” Oops. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
To Liv’s surprise Jasmyn scooched back in the chair and smiled. “Yes, now I do. So is it all right if I spend another night here?”
Liv grinned her reply, not wanting to give voice to the thought that was forming in her mind like a video on fast-forward.
Cottage Eleven was going to be Jasmyn Albright’s new home.
Ten
Sam parked her black Jeep Cherokee and cut the engine. Despite the ibuprofen she’d taken while inching along the freeway in rush hour traffic, her head throbbed. She removed her sunglasses and covered her face with her hands.
Typically her days did not end like this. Typically work energized her. She arrived at the office early, left late, stopped off at the gym three days a week, and ran at the beach the other two. She went in on weekends. Her friends were those other people in the office early, late, and on weekends.
Work was her hobby, her passion, her social life, her raison d’être. She was content and satisfied.
Until today.
A sudden rap on her window startled her. She jumped and turned to see Charles Chadwick Rutherford IV grinning like a goofy little kid. Her heart pounded along with her head.
He mouthed a Sorry and made a rolling motion with his hand.
She turned the key and hit the automatic button to open the window. “Honestly, Chad!” He went by his middle name. Apparently after three variations on Charles, the family had run out. “What is wrong with you?”
His grin went sideways and he put a hand to his chest. “Rakish” should have been his middle name. “You know I can’t pass up an opportunity to set you off, Miss Whitley. You are completely irresistible when you’re exasperated. Your eyes are wild and you’re blush—”
“Put a lid on it.”
The guy was too cute for his own good. Clear hazel eyes that always made dead-on, disarming contact. Perfectly straight white teeth. Six feet tall. Broad shoulders that made white T-shirts look like haute couture. Slender face. Thatch of unruly dark brown waves. He was textbook material for a men’s cologne ad.
He leaned on the car, his arms folded on the window opening. “What are you doing?”
She gave him her best duh stare. “Climbing Mt. Everest.”
&n
bsp; “Seriously, Sammi, it’s five thirty. You’re not due home for hours.”
She glanced away. Chad was only twenty-five, a spoiled brat, and a pesky nuisance. He was also her best friend at the Casa. Go figure. “A huge project was just dumped in my lap.”
“What’s the problem? You love huge projects, and they’re always dumped in your lap, right?”
Right. But…
Sam gazed down the alley, trying not to see the excitement on the faces of Randy and her coworkers. Trying not to feel the hypocrisy in how she had matched them grin for grin.
The alley was bordered by fences, garages, an apartment building, and the Casa’s high wall. Most of it was a no parking zone. She paid extra for her spot, only one of four next to the Casa’s back gate. Liv used one, the Templetons and Riley leased the others. Except for Chad, who rented a garage for his little Audi, Casa tenants parked on the streets wherever they happened to find space.
Every once in a while, like now, the whole scene felt constricting. The thoughts of freeways enveloping Seaside Village like octopus arms and of three million people driving on them threatened to cut off her breath altogether.
Chad poked her shoulder. “I said, what’s the problem?”
“Oh, nothing.” She lied through her teeth. “It’s just kind of a big nerve-racking deal. I’ll have to go out of town periodically. Out to Lotanzai.”
His brow furrowed and he stared at her for a moment. Then his jaw dropped. “Whoa, Nellie! The Lotanzai Indian Reservation?” He grinned, nodding knowingly. “You’re building that new hotel, casino, and golf course.”
She lifted her hands in surrender.
He gave a low whistle of approval. “Well, well. You are moving up in that hoity-toity firm of yours.”
Maybe. For four years she had worked for them on schools and parks and community centers. She did well with schools and parks and community centers. Probably because she liked schools and parks and community centers.
She did not like hotels, casinos, and golf courses. She did not like leaving town. If the Lotanzai project was moving up, she’d prefer a demotion.
“It’s only because of those eco-engineering courses I took this summer, and they needed—”
“Get over it, Samantha.” Chad held up his palm. “You did good. Give me five.”
She met his slap and tried to smile. “Move. I’m closing the window.”
He stood back. “Did you hear about the powwow tonight?”
She let go of the window button. “No.”
“Seven o’clock, Liv’s place. Mark my words. She’s handing out assignments for her latest project: Make Jasmyn Feel Welcome.”
Sam groaned.
“Tsk, tsk. No frowning allowed. Better bring your peace pipe. Ciao.” He strode off.
Sam caught her frowning reflection in the rearview mirror. Crow-black hair. High cheekbones. Broad face. Olive complexion.
Powwows. Peace pipes. The rez.
Would she never get away?
Maybe she’d just sit in the car for a while and scream.
Liv McAlister did not email. She did not text. She did not put up notes in the laundry room. She called meetings by word of mouth. They were not mandatory, but if Sam wanted to stay in the loop, she needed to attend.
Besides that, Liv served home-cooked food.
“Thank you all for coming.” Liv addressed her guests from the bend of the “L” where the living room and kitchen met at the counter that separated them.
Chad, seated on a braided rug next to Sam, a dinner plate in his lap, winked and forked a piece of lasagna. He came for the food too.
Except for Piper and the newcomer Jasmyn, everyone was in attendance, occupying the couch and chairs and most of the floor space. Keagan, who seldom joined such gatherings, stood in the kitchen area behind the counter to Liv’s side. Tasha was behind him, eating at the table with her mother, Riley.
Liv’s long, flowery skirt billowed around the stool as she sat down. She was an earthy dresser, sort of Hippie Meets L.L. Bean, Senior Style. “I won’t keep you long. As cheeky Chadwick has already asked me, is this meeting about saving Jasmyn?”
Laughter rippled through the group. Everyone knew only Chad would ask the question. They also knew the answer.
By “saving,” Liv meant making the stranger feel welcome. When Sam had first moved into the Casa, there had been a similar meeting. She didn’t know about it until after Piper had moved in and Sam was part of a meeting to save Piper. It was then she realized why each resident had managed to do special favors for her in those early weeks.
“Jasmyn will tell you her story when and if she wants to, but she gave me permission to share a few things. About six months ago she lost her house in Illinois and everything she owned when a tornado hit. She came here for a little vacation. Then, as you know, her rental car was stolen along with all of her things. Talk about a double whammy.”
A murmur of sympathy rolled through the room.
“New credit cards and a temporary driver’s license are in the mail, but she has no clothes or food aside from what we provided last night. Piper has taken her shopping tonight. I’m sure Jasmyn will pay her back.” Liv glanced over at Keagan.
Deadpan Keagan did not respond.
He and Liv had an odd relationship, somewhat like that of a president and her secret service agent. No question about it, the guy watched over her. Liv would have given Piper money for the shopping trip simply because she trusted Jasmyn’s character. Keagan, on the other hand, would have run a background check on her last night and taught her—if she did not already understand—how to electronically pay Liv back.
“So.” Liv brought her hands together in a single clap. “What do you all think? What can we do for Jasmyn?”
Casa people were a brainstorming bunch. Suggestions flowed from everyone but Keagan and Sam. Keagan was being Keagan, and Sam was thinking about work. On second thought, she too was just being herself.
Tasha walked over to Liv and laid a hand on her arm. It was the little girl’s polite way of letting Liv know she wanted a turn to speak.
Sam’s heart came as close to melting as possible, although she never let on that Tasha affected her like that. It wasn’t pity over the fact that Down syndrome heaped special challenges on the youngster. It was, rather, an almost reverence because there was absolutely no guile in her.
Liv patted Tasha’s hand. “What’s your idea, honey?”
The little girl flashed her thousand-watt smile. “Let’s give Jasmyn lots and lots and lots of hugs.”
Laughter ended the meeting and Sam slipped away.
Liv caught up with her at the front door. “Samantha, dear, might I put a bug in your ear?” She went on, not waiting for a reply. “Jasmyn is a runner.” She smiled, squeezed Sam’s arm, and turned back inside.
Sam went out into the cool evening air and considered that Jasmyn factoid for about two seconds. Liv’s bug was nothing compared to the lions growling in Sam’s path.
Maybe she could talk Randy into giving her a different assignment. Maybe—
“How does she do that?”
She jumped at Chad’s voice over her shoulder. “Chad!”
“Whoops, sorry. Seriously, how does she do it?”
There was no need to ask whom he was talking about. “Do what?”
“Make me want to take part in her crazy scheme.”
“She put something in the lasagna.”
“Aha! It worked on you too, didn’t it?”
Sam stopped and faced him, her hands on her hips, determined to deny his assumption. Instead, the tiny white patio lights glittered in the jacaranda tree and the palms. The fountain sang gently like an ancient lullaby. She saw herself last night gathering linens, lifting the portable television from her kitchen counter, and hauling everything over to Eleven.
Chad laughed. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Sammi. Mama Liv is not exactly a bad influence on us. So what’s your assignment?”
“I do
n’t have an a—” She pressed her lips together.
“Mine is to do something fun with her, like go to the zoo. It can’t look like a date, though. She’s probably old enough to be my older sister. I think I’ll ask Piper to join us.”
“No wonder you’re on board with the crazy scheme.”
He raised his hands and shrugged. “Maybe the love of my life will say yes this time.”
“Right. Fantasies come true all the time. See you.” She walked toward her cottage.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Chad was beside her again.
“Jasmyn runs.”
“Perfect!”
“I don’t have the time.”
No time. No time and definitely no emotional space for another new project.
Eleven
Late Tuesday night, Jasmyn sat in her borrowed rocker in her borrowed cottage and, using a borrowed cell phone, she phoned Quinn.
No way was she going to tell her about how Liv prayed and thought she got answers or how Jasmyn felt definite mom vibes coming from the woman. But she did describe the sense of homecoming to end all homecomings.
“Quinn, it feels like I’ve been away for such a long time and now I’m back. I’m back home.”
“You’re back home. In California. Jasmyn, that’s the loopiest thing you have ever said. But then again, you are loopy. I mean that in the most affectionate way.”
It was a running joke. Jasmyn was loopy, Quinn was sassy.
Quinn sighed. “It sounds more like heaven. No work, no humidity, no bugs. Movie stars around every corner. Not to mention you’re on vacation, loafing on the beach, and doing those number puzzles to your heart’s content.”
“I haven’t seen a movie star.”
“You wouldn’t recognize one in the flesh. On the street they look just like us.”
“Oh, Quinn, it’s more than that kind of stuff.” How could she describe the impact of Southern California?
She was a country girl who had never been anywhere before. She loved the Midwest and its beautiful, changing seasons. By now the cornstalks would be elephant-eye high, the soybeans beginning to yellow, the air wobbling with late summer heat. Potted mums of every color would be on everyone’s front stoop. Tree-covered hillsides would soon be masses of brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges.
