by Sally John
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
“I needed a break, Quinn. I just needed a break.”
“Yeah.”
Their goodbye felt awkward.
Jasmyn set her mug on the counter, walked into the adjoining living room, and sat in the rocker.
Six months of loss. It might have felt a breath less devastating as five months. Except…
Except it now seemed that Quinn’s friendship might be added to the loss.
They had had their moments since kindergarten. Annoyances, disagreements, awkwardness, moodiness. But never the outright and senseless jealousy she’d just heard in Quinn’s voice.
Maybe it was understandable. Jasmyn had been able to stop counting the months of loss because a group of strangers in a strange land loved on her.
And her best friend was not part of that equation.
A deep exhaustion hit her. It was familiar, all too familiar. It came out of nowhere, like those memories. It sapped her of all strength, all energy, all emotion.
She made her way to the bedroom, laid down on the little rollaway, and went back to sleep.
Fourteen
Liv’s teapot was empty. A choir of morning birds sang at the top of their tiny lungs, and the first shaft of sunlight lit the upper fronds of the tallest palm. Tobi sprang from Liv’s lap and wandered back indoors, her little love tank all filled up for the day.
And still Jasmyn was nowhere in sight.
“Hmm.”
Jasmyn had lived at the Casa for only two weeks, but they had a morning ritual going. Usually by now the two of them would have chatted and planned some event, if only an afternoon walk to Jitters coffee shop for a latte. Liv would have prodded a bit and been given another peek or two inside the young woman’s heart.
It seemed somewhat of a lonely place despite Jasmyn’s cheery description of life in her small hometown. Her family was gone. She loved her job at the restaurant and had a good friend, but since the tornado, things in Valley Oaks seemed to have lost their glow.
“Good morning, Liv.”
She turned toward the voice and saw Samantha approach, a highly unusual Monday morning sight. She wore blue jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt, also an odd thing.
“Well, good morning to you, Samantha, dear.”
She stopped near Liv’s chair. “I just wanted to let you know I’ll be out of town for a few days. Probably until Friday.”
“Work related?” The woman never went away for fun.
“Yes.” She didn’t offer details. “Do you think Beau could put in a new showerhead for me? It’s on the kitchen counter. I couldn’t get the old one off.”
“You know you don’t have to do things like that. That’s why we have Beau.”
“I’ll pay for it. The old head works fine, but I would prefer a different one.”
Liv smiled. “I’ve been meaning to put in those low-water-usage ones ever since you explained droughts to me.” She did not begin to comprehend Samantha’s work. All she knew was that the genius in Seven built things and tried to protect the environment at the same time.
“Whose land are you saving this week?”
Samantha shifted her weight and rolled her shoulders, a familiar mannerism of hers when she seemed uncomfortable. “I’m working at the Lotanzai Reservation. We don’t know yet if there’s anything to save.”
“I read about that. The newspaper interviewed people who say there’s plenty to save. You go, girl.”
Samantha turned her head as if to deflect the comment. A ray of sunlight glimmered on her coal-black hair. Against the backdrop of shadowy foliage, it looked like a halo.
Liv kept that observation to herself.
“Controversy sells newspapers. Anyway, I didn’t want you to worry about my absence.”
“Thank you. Have a good week and remember to just be yourself.”
Samantha squinted as if she did not understand. “Thanks?”
Liv smiled. “I imagine you’re going to get pressured.”
“That’s a given.”
“Exactly. People are going to fuss at you. They’re going to think they know more than you do. But you are wise beyond your years, Samantha Whitley.” It wasn’t the first time Liv had declared such a thing to her. Affirmation, though, bore repeating, especially when there was no evidence that it had sunk in. “Don’t let them walk all over you, okay?”
“O-okay.”
“That didn’t sound very convincing.”
“I gotta go.” Samantha turned and waved over her shoulder as she walked away.
Liv raised her voice. “Say it like you mean it, hon. Okay!”
There was no response, but Liv glimpsed in her profile a rare smile.
“Oh, child,” she whispered. “What are we going to do with you?”
Samantha disappeared behind a patch of six-foot-tall bird-of-paradise near her cottage. A moment later she pulled a suitcase around the corner of her place and down the walkway toward the alley gate, its wheels thumping rhythmically.
“Lord, have mercy,” Liv mumbled. “A sheep off to a den of wolves. You’re sending an angel with her, right?”
Pondering whether or not to knock on Jasmyn’s door, Liv went inside and refilled her teapot.
Whether or not to knock was probably not the question. It was more like when should she go knock on the girl’s door.
Stepping back outside, she found Keagan in the chair next to hers. She almost told him he couldn’t sit there because it was Jasmyn’s seat. “Good morning.”
“Morning. I saw Sam leaving with a suitcase.”
“Yes, she’s off to the Lotanzai Reservation for work. It was thoughtful of her to tell me so I wouldn’t worry. You know, I can’t figure out why she doesn’t move. She’s well established in her job and familiar with the city. You’d think she’d want a more hip place with a manager who doesn’t give two hoots about her comings and goings.”
“You’re slipping, Mama Liv.” His mouth didn’t move, but tiny crow’s-feet appeared around his eyes as if he were indeed smiling.
He had amazing eyes, a luminous blue-green color. There was seldom a hint of a smile around them.
He and Sam were very much alike. Aloof. Smart as whips. Private. Extremely private. Inscrutable, even.
Liv knew little about either one of them. Keagan had been born and raised in New York City. She had no clue what he had done for a living before he moved to the Casa and became part-owner in a gym. He simply said he had been in software. Right. Her suspicions revolved around careers that involved secrecy and physical prowess, such as a special military outfit or the CIA.
Samantha had gone to UCLA and then taken a job in San Diego. She had grown up in Arizona. She only referred to it as in the northern part of the state, Flagstaff was the nearest big city. That left a lot of wiggle room. Sometimes Liv saw Native American features. Other times Samantha’s cheekbones seemed not in the least bit high and her eyes lost their slightly almond shape.
“What do you mean I’m slipping?”
“Typically you would have this figured out by now.”
She opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. She was in her mid-sixties. Okay, maybe the later side of the mid area, but goodness, that was nothing like being in her eighties. She was not slipping. Deep down she knew why Samantha stayed at the Casa. It was because she was supposed to stay. God wanted her there at the Casa for His own reasons.
She pursed her lips. Whew! That sounded a bit high and mighty even to herself, and she was all about lofty, mystical explanations.
She sighed. “It’s clear Samantha simply puts up with the rest of us. It’s not like she has a close friend here. So why does she stay?”
“Because there’s no one else in her life like you who gives two hoots about her comings and goings.”
“Ah.” She thought about that for a moment. “But at her age, in her position, why would she want that?”
“Liv, who doesn’t want that?”
&n
bsp; “Well, for one, an independent, successful career woman who should be hanging out with friends and meeting a significant other.”
“Don’t let her veneer fool you.”
Liv met his gaze. Samantha wasn’t the only one who kept a veneer in place. “Is that why you stay? Because I’m a mother figure?”
He winked.
An unusual gesture.
“Nah. I stay because you’d be lost without me.”
She grinned. “You’re almost as cheeky as Chadwick.”
“Now that’s a contest I don’t care to win.” He stood. “Where’s your little helper?”
“You mean Jasmyn?”
“She’s late for your morning routine.”
Liv didn’t bother to ask how he knew that. Keagan seemed to know most things.
“Anything I can do?” His question wasn’t all that odd, but something was. The timing? His tone? His eyes? That wink for sure.
“Do you mean anything you can do in general or about Jasmyn?”
“Either.” He slipped on his sunglasses, hiding the laser beams.
“Nothing I can think of at the moment.”
“Okay. Have a good day, Liv.”
She watched him walk away, grateful as always that he did indeed stay on at the Casa for whatever reason. She would be lost without him.
He wasn’t movie star handsome like her Syd had been, but frankly, if she were forty years younger, he’d be starring in her daydreams.
When her husband Syd died ten years ago, she had been completely lost. Slowly she found her way into a life without him. She sold their condo and moved into the Casa, which her smart cookie of a father had bought in the 1960s. He had held on to it because his daughter loved the place so much and begged for the opportunity to inherit it.
Life worked for her at the Casa. Still, there was a void. When Keagan had shown up a few years later, she knew what was missing. He brought with him a good dose of masculinity, an attribute a single businesswoman needed to lean on now and then.
And there were the subtle things. Like this morning, how he stopped and chatted for a spell exactly when she needed it. Puzzled by Samantha and concerned about Jasmyn, she had indeed been feeling a little bit lost.
Fifteen
Jasmyn awoke from a deep sleep, not quite sure where she was.
Sunlight filtered through partially open venetian blinds. She saw a giant bouquet of fernlike stems sprouting in a patch of blue sky. It was not an oak tree.
She thought about turning her back to the view, but her body refused to respond. The familiar inertia had been triggered, she remembered now, when she talked with Quinn about the date. The anniversary. Was it still the seventeenth? Maybe she had slept all the way through it.
Probably not. The heaviness would have lightened if it were the next day.
Its sensation always reminded her of walking at the creek’s edge as a kid with Quinn. Their feet would sink deep into squishy mud, sometimes halfway up their shins. The mud became a monster with strong hands that yanked off shoes and socks. They squealed in delicious fear and played tug-of-war with it, freeing their legs at last.
Now her whole body was being sucked down and trapped in the monster’s clutches. Squealing in delicious fear never entered the picture. Eventually, though, the heaviness would pass, strength would return to her muscles or to her willpower—she wasn’t sure which—and she’d get up. Eventually. By the end of the day.
At least that’s what had always happened so far.
The bouts were lessening. In the beginning they had come daily. Lately not so often. They hadn’t knocked her out for a whole entire day since…Well, not since her arrival in California. Had Quinn really needed to tell her the date?
Jasmyn lost herself in the memory she so badly wanted to forget.
The siren’s woo-ooo. The translucent curtain of algae green. The funnel, like a finger of God, twirling. The roar of a freight train slamming against her ears. The waiting in the basement.
Then…the seeing. The seeing of a reality so dreadful they should have draped it with a cloth. They should have averted their eyes.
Her home, her cocoon, was a pile of unrecognizable trash. The spaces between the walls, where she cooked, cleaned, bathed, slept, breathed…gone. Gone. Absolutely gone.
And so the day of the sixth month anniversary passed in Cottage Eleven.
“Jasmyn, dear, are you all right?” Liv smiled in the doorway, a plate of brownies in her hand, the patio lights behind her already lit in the dusky courtyard.
Jasmyn had lost the whole entire day. “I’m fine.” It wasn’t a lie. Compared to not being able to get out of bed, she was really pretty much okay.
“Well, I became concerned when I didn’t see you all day. Not that I keep track of everyone’s comings and goings.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “Okay, sometimes I do. Especially you single gals because, well, just because who else will make sure you’re home safe and sound? Anyway.” She handed her the plate. “Chocolate. It’s good for whatever ails you.”
Jasmyn caught a whiff of warm chocolate. “Thank you.” She placed a hand on the door, ready to shut it at the first opportunity.
“I bet you thought chicken soup was the cure-all.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
The creases in Liv’s forehead said she clearly did not believe Jasmyn was fine.“I’m just a little tired.”
Liv nodded. “You’ve had quite a couple of weeks.”
A couple of weeks. Try six months. Whatever. “I need to go home.”
“Home! To Illinois? Oh goodness, not before Saturday, surely! I mean, Chadwick has planned a trip to Disneyland for you on Wednesday. He’s talked Riley into taking Tasha out of school. Inez wants to bring the twins, her great-grandsons.”
“I don’t know—”
“You just go now and rest up. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Liv turned and hurried away.
Jasmyn shut the door and leaned against it. She did not want to talk tomorrow! She did not want to go to Disneyland!
Oh, what was happening to her new safe place with its batch of warm fuzzies?
A great sob erupted. She slid to the floor and muffled it with her arms, not wanting to disturb the neighbors who had welcomed her.
Sixteen
The office door was open. Liv liked to smell the damp night air and hear the trickling fountain while she worked at her desk. Work tonight meant snooping into a probable tenant’s background.
She removed her glasses, propped her elbows on either side of the computer keyboard, and pressed her forehead into her hands. “Lord, what is wrong with me?”
Liv did not doubt her presumption that Jasmyn Albright was a probable tenant. It was a knowledge given to her, visceral, deep, and inexplicable. Such things happened now and then, often enough for her to sense when they were true.
She imagined they came from God. Why? It didn’t matter. Why weren’t a timetable and a to-do list included for her? It didn’t matter.
Except this time it mattered. A fear gnawed at her. What if the someday were eons from now? She wanted Jasmyn there right now on a permanent basis. She’d never felt such a crazy notion.
The sound of a discreet throat clearing told her Keagan stood in the doorway. She looked up and saw him.
“Knock, knock?”
“Come on in.”
“What’s up?” He sat in the armchair across the desk.
“What makes you think something’s up?”
“It’s after eleven and the front gate was open.”
“Open!” Liv moaned. She never forgot to close and lock the gate before dark at the absolute latest. Never.
“Are you feeling okay?”
She replaced her glasses. “How do you mean?”
“Olivia.” He fixed his laser beam gaze on her. “You forget the gate about once a year. Either somebody died or the doctor gave you bad news.”
She waved a hand and almost said nonsense, but Keagan didn’t speak nonsense. He most li
kely was not capable of doing so.
“Well?” He leaned forward. “Which is it?”
“Neither.” She shook her head. “All right. I’m tied up in knots about Jasmyn.”
“The visitor who’s leaving Saturday. Why?”
“Well, because…” She glanced around the office. From a wall a photograph her late husband, Syd, smiled down. It was an eight-by-ten black and white glossy head shot. He’d had it taken as a joke because she always called him movie star handsome. He’d even scrawled Best Wishes and signed his name, Sydney Engstrom, like Robert Redford would do.
The man had kept her going. They married late in life; she was forty-six, he fifty. She hadn’t taken his last name because by then she was well known in the business world as the owner of McAlister Realty, which had been around since her father founded it in the 1950s. Syd didn’t mind. He wasn’t the sort to be threatened. They had enjoyed only a dozen years together before he passed away too soon. Way too soon.
She suddenly felt very old and very alone.
“You don’t get tied up in knots about strangers. Overly concerned and involved maybe, but not upset.”
“I know.” She swiveled the monitor so he could see it. “Look at these.” She clicked through several online photos.
“Let me guess. It’s not a pile of toothpicks.”
“No, it’s Jasmyn’s farmhouse after the tornado.”
The scenes could have been taken in a war zone. Rubble was scattered across fields of tilled soil. The only partially recognizable things were a toppled, leafless oak and a chunk of green metal identified in the caption as a combine fender.
“Tornadoes were in other parts of the Midwest that day that caused a lot of destruction, but nothing in her area except her home. The local newspaper devoted pages to her story. The article says the funnel’s path went straight through the Albright property. Jasmyn’s house and two barns and all their contents were totally demolished. Nothing was salvageable. Isn’t that heartbreaking?”
“That’s a tough one.”
“Check out the date. It happened six months ago today. What an awful anniversary and, as far as I can tell, she spent it all alone inside her cottage. Probably crying her eyes out. I knocked a few times throughout the day, but she didn’t answer until tonight.”
