Bells On Her Toes (The Psychic Seasons Series Book 2)

by ReGina Welling

“Chickens hate me. I’ve been pecked more than once. I think they know I eat their kind. Not very manly, I know, but I avoid them.”

  “I’m scared of Guinea pigs. Not rats, not mice, not hamsters, just Guinea pigs.” It was irrational, but their little faces creeped her out.

  “Very specific. Is there a reason?”

  “Not really; that’s the weird part.”

  “I like talking to you.”

  “Figured, since you keep calling.” She didn’t want to talk about the why of it. That might ruin things.

  “I watch chick flicks after Sam goes to bed.” That one made her smile.

  “Your favorite?”

  “Nope, not telling.”

  “That ruins the whole true confessions game.”

  “Sorry. That information would require a major confession from you first.”

  She thought for a moment and decided to expose her deepest pain.

  “I was a throwaway child.”

  That was one of the saddest things he’d ever heard. Now it was his turn to be silent as he thought about how lonely she must have been growing up. Her willingness to be vulnerable demanded the same from him.

  “Lila was pregnant when she was killed. Sam doesn’t know. No one did.”

  “Oh, Finn. I’m so sorry.” Tears of sympathy filled her eyes as she understood how much deeper his loss had been.

  “She was sure it was a boy this time. We were going to name him after my father. We were waiting until she passed her first trimester to share the news with our families. Once she was gone, I didn’t want them to hurt more than they already were.”

  “So you carried this pain by yourself.”

  “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Her next statement shocked him. “Even though it comes from a good place, that’s a very selfish thing you did.”

  “Excuse me.” A chill in his voice.

  “For two reasons: first, you didn’t give your family the chance to grieve for your baby; and, second, you didn’t let them support you and that would have helped them with their own grieving process.”

  Dead silence. She expected to hear the click as he hung up on her again, but it didn’t come.

  Finally, he spoke. “I never thought of it that way, just figured that by telling anyone it would make it bigger—for them, for me, for Sam. I was drowning as it was; every breath like a knife in my heart.”

  “I get that, and I wasn’t judging. Asking for help, especially when you need it most, doesn’t mean you’re less, and it lets others become more. Hard to see that when you are in the middle, though.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  The conversation felt balanced on a precipice, Gustavia thought her answer could push him away or put them on more solid ground. “My life hasn’t been all kittens and rainbows. I know the darkness; I’ve lived the darkness. If not for Julie and Estelle—her Grams—I might still be in a dark place. I’d started to claw my way out; but they took me in, loved me, healed me, gave me the light without asking for anything from me. I owe them everything.”

  “She mentioned that.” He mused.

  “Who? Julie?”

  “No, Estelle.”

  “You spoke to her? How? When?”

  Now he was embarrassed; she could all but hear it over the phone. “She cornered me on the roof. Gave me a talking to, and said she’d spoken to Sam. Then told me you had a story that I needed to hear.”

  It was her turn to go silent.

  Finn let the silence stand briefly then said, “I told you my biggest secret; tell me what happened to you. What they did to you.” At the gentleness in his voice, she came completely undone.

  Hesitantly, she began, “When I was around the same age as Sam, my parents gave me away, sent me to live with my grandmother.” Then, she told him the rest of the story. All of it. Telling him was different than her rant at Amethyst’s house. That had been cathartic. This time, she was not angry or hurt; just resigned.

  When she finished, Finn knew Estelle had been right to chastise him. He’d had some pretty well-established ideas about her family life and background, every one of them wrong.

  Worse, he could see how his response to her, the one based on his own fear of getting too close, had caused her infinitely more pain than he’d known or intended. Since he had yet to fully master that fear, instead of alleviating it, this epiphany fed the beast until it reared up and swallowed him whole again.

  Don’t hurt her this time, he told himself when his first instinct was to push her away. Say something nice, something supportive. Nothing was coming to mind except panicked nonsense.

  The silence dragged out until it became palpable between them. All the while, Finn tried to tame the flight response raging through him.

  When he finally said, “I’m sorry,” a slight inflection in his tone made the words sound like a question. He didn’t hear it, though. All he heard was the buzzing in his head. Was that a lame thing to say? Even if it was, he meant it with all his heart. He was sorry. For everything. Her experience and his own contribution.

  Gustavia shook her head. Was he judging her again? Comparing his loss to her pain? She sighed. “This isn’t a game where we trot out our worst memories for the world to judge; there’s no prize if your past is more tragic than mine.”

  “No, I didn’t mean…I meant…ah, that came out all wrong.”

  “Wrong or an unconscious slip that reveals a truth? It’s not a competition to see if one of us is more damaged than the other.”

  “We’re quite a pair.”

  “No. No, we aren’t. I hoped we might be a pair.” She seemed to be thinking aloud; he wasn’t sure she remembered he was still on the line. “In some ways we work. But it’s too hard. It’s all heat and sparks and shivers. Then it’s a walk down memory lane at midnight on Halloween when every ghost from my past comes back to haunt me at once.”

  “I thought you loved Estelle.”

  “Not her; it was a metaphor.”

  “Yeah, I got that; I was trying to lighten the mood.”

  “Consider it a fail.”

  “Lot of that going around since I met you,” he helpfully pointed out.

  What in the wide world did that mean? No, she was not going to get herself all twisted up again.

  “I’m pretty sure Estelle was trying to tell you that I understand a little bit of what Sam felt when she lost Lila. Maybe our circumstances were different but I lost my mother, too.”

  “I really am sorry.”

  “I’m sorry you lost Lila, that Sam lost her mom.”

  At a loss for what to say next, all he could manage was, “Goodnight, Gustavia. Sweet dreams.” He hung up, gently this time. The soft click sounded final.

  “You, too,” she said to the disconnected line.

  Ah, what was she doing? Letting her guard down like that, telling him things she never meant to say out loud. And his goodnight had sounded like goodbye.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Finn watched from the shadowed booth at the back of the bar. He probably should never have allowed Sam to spend the night with a friend. After her performance the other day she should still be grounded, but he’d needed the time alone.; time to clear his head a bit.

  When the idea to stop in for a beer whispered into his mind, he never suspected Estelle might have planted it there. He couldn’t believe his bad timing as, not five minutes after settling into the back corner booth, Gustavia, Julie, and the rest of the group trooped in and settled at one of the larger, center tables. They were joined by another woman who’d been waiting at the bar. With any luck, he could sneak out before one of them saw him.

  Curiosity and the desire to finish his beer kept Finn sitting in the booth long enough to see the band greet all of them warmly. Before there was time for them to even order drinks, all five women were pulled up to the stage. Unsure what was happening, Finn glanced around until he noticed a rather large sign he’d missed before. It was live Karaoke night.
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br />   All thought of sneaking away left his mind as he ordered another beer and waited to see what would happen next. Finn couldn’t believe his eyes as Gustavia hugged the guitar player warmly before accepting the instrument and slinging the strap over her shoulder. Never once during all their talks had she mentioned she had any musical talent. It struck him how little he actually knew of her and how much he wanted to know more.

  Julie took her place at the microphone. After a short discussion with the new arrival, who picked up the bass, Kat took over the keyboard. Amethyst sat down behind the drums and slapped the sticks together three times before Gustavia flawlessly hit the opening notes to Satisfaction.

  About two seconds in, he realized they were good. Julie’s voice was silky, but she still hit the sexy growl needed to sell the song. Gustavia played lead guitar the same way she did everything, with joy and abandon. It was the first time Finn had seen this side of her. Since the day they’d met, he’d only seen her through the lens of his own preconceptions.

  Once again, the inner Gustavia shined through and dazzled him. Tonight her hair was braided, woven with tiny rhinestones that caught the light and sparkled; but even these paled in comparison to the brilliance of her smile, one that lit her eyes and clearly displayed the beauty within.

  A warrior princess.

  She had him. All of him. God, he hoped she wanted him.

  With a sinking feeling, he figured it was probably too late.

  ***

  Someone was watching; watching her, the group.

  She’d felt it while they were playing; she felt it still.

  Rebalanced and revving, Gustavia listened to her intuition. Trying not to draw attention to herself, she closed her eyes briefly, quieted her mind and opened up her awareness enough to home in on the watcher from the darkness.

  There. There in the back. Her senses pinpointed the source; the eyes intently focused on her. Without saying anything to anyone, she stood and stalked to the far corner of the room.

  “The decent thing to do would be to just come and join us instead of skulking here by yourself,” she told Finn.

  Men weren’t supposed to blush, he thought with embarrassment. How had she known he was watching and wishing he could join in? Chagrin turned him brusque.

  “I can’t sing. Thought it was better if I stayed out of it.”

  “No one asked you to sing. Come along now, and join in.” A thought struck her, and she took the seat across from him. “It’s okay to enjoy a little fun; it doesn’t take away from her memory. Finn, you still have to live, and you have a right to a full life if you’d only let yourself. If she loved you the way I think she did, she would want you to move forward, be happy.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. Blame her insight; she’d picked up on his exact thoughts. Anguished eyes met hers, and Gustavia knew she’d hit the target.

  “It feels like a betrayal.” He said simply.

  “No, living a stunted life does not honor her. Tell me honestly; what would she say if she could see you now, if she could come back for just one minute?”

  Shrugging, he didn’t answer, but Gustavia knew she’d made her point.

  “You’re welcome to join us.” She walked away.

  Five minutes later, Finn grabbed his half-finished beer and made his way toward the group.

  At one point Gustavia, watching him from the corner of her eye, thought he was going to bolt. He stopped, started to turn back, then squared his shoulders and moved forward.

  Good for him, she thought, as she made room for him to join them. Instead, he set his drink on the table and then pulled her to her feet, leading her toward the dance floor.

  Well, now was as good a time as any to see if he had the moves to keep up with her.

  The song was upbeat, and Gustavia cut loose. Krav Maga kept her fit, but T’ai Chi made her graceful. She danced with abandon, totally enjoying the experience. Finn kept pace and, when the song changed to something with a Latin flavor, pulled her into a fairly credible cha cha.

  Another little surprise.

  He could dance. He was almost the guy of her wishes. He had everything down except for being stable. His changing moods had him scoring low there. Gustavia sighed inwardly and wished he’d come around in that department.

  ***

  For their second number, Tyler joined the five women and sang a duet with Julie that brought the house down. On the way back to their table, Julie stopped to talk to a couple seated nearby.

  Tamara, a talkative redhead of indeterminate age, owned the jewelry store next door to the gallery where Julie displayed her work. It was Tamara who had pulled Julie first into doing product photography for her own line of jewelry, then into the world of fashion through a designer friend. Julie enjoyed the work, and the doubled income was a nice bonus for doing something fun and artistic.

  When Julie returned to their table, she saw that Zack Roman had joined the party. With an analytical eye, she watched him as he interacted with Gustavia. The siblings may have gotten past their differences, but Julie had yet to completely forgive him for his part in her friend’s unhappiness. If he put one toe out of line, she was ready to stomp on it.

  She needn’t have worried. After a few minutes, Julie could see the easiness that now existed between the two of them. He’d even managed little more than a widening of the eyes when he’d caught sight of Mishka’s pointed, elf-like ears peeking through her hair. Julie smiled and gave him points for trying. He was well on his way to earning a spot in their little family.

  ***

  Standing outside the bar where he had followed Julie, Logan listened to the song. He couldn’t believe she’d lowered herself to the level of singing in public. Good thing he was well shot of her, but his blood still burned over the fact he hadn’t completed his plan and gotten hold of her property. His big score, and she’d foiled it. She and that crazy Gustavia. They needed to pay.

  He strolled through the parking lot struggling with himself.

  Something was wrong with him; he knew it. A good con man had to be willing to walk away when a mark got wise. Rule number one: never get emotional. Instead of being cold and logical, two personality traits he had ruthlessly adopted, he’d been overwhelmed by anger during the past few weeks. It made him sloppy. The screaming red descended inside his head until he couldn’t think, couldn’t reason things out and his entire being centered on revenge.

  His daddy had taught him well, had taught him that when a con goes south you have to know when to walk away.

  He’d walked away, but something kept bringing him back.

  Worse, he didn’t really remember coming back. He’d just suddenly found himself in Oakville with only a dreamlike picture of how or why he’d come. Hours, even days, passed in a blur.

  Logan stopped short when he saw the Maverick parked in a pool of light that spilled from one of the large streetlamps; and, slowly, the red crept over his mind again.

  Hadn’t he already taken care of her? Gotten rid of this hideous piece of junk? He couldn’t restrain himself. Walking back to his car and grabbing a bat out of his trunk, he applied it to her windshield, then to the headlights and rear window. He smashed every bit of glass he could find, each crash and tinkle feeding his fury until there was very little left of coherent thought. All that remained was the need to break, to hurt, to annihilate. His last act was to grab the dancing hula gypsy doll, break it in half and throw it into the front seat before walking away. He hadn’t covered more than a few yards before his memory of the act began to fade along with the red fury. He was back in his car and several blocks away when he heard the scream of sirens and wondered what had happened.

  ***

  It was serendipitous, to use one of Gustavia’s favorite words, that Tamara and her husband had just stepped into the parking lot when they heard the cracking of the bat and the sound of breaking glass. She whipped out her cell and called 9-1-1 while Logan was working over the windshield. Keeping her voice low so she wouldn
’t be heard and her husband beside her, she crept silently toward the noise and reported the crime.

  At first, in the dimly lit parking lot, she could only make out the movement, the glint off the metal baseball bat as it swung; but as her eyes adjusted, Tamara could see that it was Gustavia’s car being assaulted. Knowing the story, her mind quickly jumped to identify the most likely person. So she thumbed on her phone’s camera, set it to the night setting, and clicked off a few photos before Logan finished and strolled nonchalantly to his car. Doubtful the cops would be able to get a plate number, she fired off a shot of his car as it pulled out anyway.

  The entire incident had only lasted a couple of minutes. Now that it was over, Tamara became aware of her racing heart and shaking hands. She congratulated herself for being a quick thinker while her husband read her the riot act for getting too close to the action.

  At the sound of approaching sirens, she left her husband to wait for the police and went inside to tell Gustavia and her friends what had happened. Since Zack was already there, she showed him the photos on her phone as he followed her out to the parking lot. Zack then became the second person to chastise her for taking a dangerous chance. Still, she could tell she’d made his job easier, and he could tell by her cheerful grin that she wasn’t the least bit repentant. She was thrilled to have helped.

  This time, with Tamara’s intervention, he might be able to get a roadblock in place quickly enough to catch the slippery little slimeball. He made the calls to make it happen then escorted his sister over to take a look at the damage.

  “Your insurance company isn’t going to be happy about this.” Zack tried to lighten the mood as he put an arm around Gustavia’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. Still unaccustomed to the easy affection he now displayed, she squeezed back.

  “At least it was only the glass this time.” Then she got a closer look, “Oh, and he killed Gertrude.”

  Zack’s system went on alert until she explained that Gertrude was the gypsy doll and not a real person. Then, satisfied that he’d done his brotherly duty, he assigned a deputy to take Tamara’s statement and left to make the rounds, cruise through town, check the roadblocks.