Lily Dale: Discovering Part 11

Something in his expression sends a chill through Calla. She crouches beside him. "What are you going to help with, Dylan?"

"I have to help all the people. They're going to get hurt when all the buildings crash down."

Shuddering inwardly, Calla says, "You're just pretending, right, Dylan? You're just playing superhero again, right?"

He hesitates. Then he nods. "Right!"

"Right!"Ethan agrees, bobbing his blond curls emphatically. Calla stands, brushes the dirt off her legs, and goes over to Paula.

"They're so cute,"she says.

"Yeah, they are. So, Calla, listen, a couple of detectives came to see Patsy Metcalf a little while ago."

Caught off guard, Calla manages to say only, "Um . . . really?"

Already? is what she should have said.

"I heard they were from Florida."

Lutz and Kearney. Wow. She'd known it was coming, but somehow, she had put it out of her mind.

Calla feels like sinking onto the step beside Paula, but she doesn't dare. She doesn't trust herself not to spill the whole story-and in a town like this, that would be a big mistake.

"I heard it had something to do with you,"Paula says, "and I wanted to make sure everything is okay."

She's not being nosy-just concerned. And Calla can hardly blame her. After all, she's Paula's children's babysitter. If Paula suspects she's in some kind of trouble with the law, Calla can kiss her part- time income good- bye.

"It's kind of complicated,"she tells Paula, "but it's about this woman who broke into my father's house back in Tampa over the weekend."

"Really?"

Paula seems to be waiting for her to elaborate.

When she doesn't, Paula asks, "What does Patsy have to do with it?"

Calla weighs the truth and quickly decides to offer a version of it. "Someone in Patsy's Sat.u.r.day cla.s.s had a vision involving the woman, and I mentioned that to the police. I guess they want to check it out."

"Oh, I see."That seems to make perfect sense to Paula, who looks relieved. "Well, I'm glad it wasn't anything serious."

Calla forces a smile. "Like me being wanted for bank robbery or something?"

"Exactly."Paula chuckles. "So, listen, now that we know you're not a wanted felon, can you come babysit tomorrow after school? The boys have been asking for you."

Calla hesitates.

The last time she was there, Dylan drew a picture of her scribbled over in blue crayon and calmly informed her she was under water. And a few weeks ago, he correctly foretold that a man with "a racc.o.o.n eye"was trying to hurt her.

"Sure,"she tells Paula.

After all, she can't be afraid of a five-year- old. Even one who specializes in making dire predictions- involving Calla- between Candyland moves and story time.

Calla arrives home to find her grandmother in the front yard.

No surprise there.

In Lily Dale, when the weather turns nice, people rush outside to enjoy it from their porches, yards, and gardens.

Odelia-who frequently says her skin is fairer than a baby's keister-is on her knees in a flowerbed, wearing a big, floppy Little House on the Prairiestyle sunbonnet, enormous aviator sungla.s.ses, and a patch of protective white zinc on her nose.

"Calla! Is it three thirty already? How was school?"

"Same as usual."Calla dumps her heavy backpack on the steps, then sinks down beside it. She plops her chin in her hands and wonders whether to tell her grandmother about the Florida investigators talking to Patsy.

For all she knows, Odelia has already heard.

If she hasn't, she will soon enough. No need to bring it up now.

"Same as usual,"Odelia echoes. "Sounds like that's a bad thing?"

"Actually, it isn't."On the contrary, it was comforting to go through a predictable school day after a weekend that was anything but.

"Then why do you look so depressed?"

"Because I stink at math, and I had it last period. Mr. Bombeck hates me."

"I'm sure he doesn't."

"Oh, I'm sure he does. He wasn't exactly loving when he handed back my test."She sighs and leans both elbows back against the top step, legs outstretched to the bottom. "What are you doing, Gammy?"

"Dividing my hostas. Want to help?"

"Dividing?"She groans. "No more math today. Sorry."

Odelia laughs. "It can't be that bad."

"I got a D."

"Minus?"

"No. Just a D."

"Look on the bright side. That's better than a D minus. Or an F."Her grandmother hacks away at a stubborn root.

"Somehow, I don't think the college admissions boards are going to see it that way. My father won't, either. I guess I'd better go tell him."She hoists herself off the step, picks up her backpack, and starts to head inside.

"Calla? If you're going to go tell your father anything right now, you're going to need a boat."

"Why? Where is he?"

"Out on the lake."She gestures vaguely at the patch of blue at the end of the road.

"What?"

"He's fis.h.i.+ng . . ."

"He doesn't fis.h.!.+"

". . . with Ramona."Odelia looks her squarely in the eye as if to ask, What do you think about that? "They took a picnic lunch and a lot of bait."

"Oh. Well, that's nice."

"Mmm-hmm."Her grandmother continues to watch her.

"What, Gammy?"

"Are you okay with . . ."She sweeps a dirty gardening glovecovered hand toward the Taggarts' house, "all of this?"

"You mean Dad sleeping in their guest room?"And the whole town buzzing about it?

"That. And him maybe . . . starting to move on."

"Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know . . . . She was your daughter."

"She was your mother. And his wife."Gammy shrugs. "I'm fine with it. He's gone through h.e.l.l. He's in a better place than he has been in a long, long time."

"I know . . . . It's been three months."

"Since your mother died."

"What else would I be talking about?"

Her grandmother shakes her head and goes back to chopping the hosta's root.

"Gammy . . . did something happen to my father before my mother died?"

"You tell me."

She knows, Calla realizes. She knows what Mom did. To Dad. With Darrin.

"You mean . . . the affair?"

Her grandmother goes still, then sets aside her trowel and looks up at her. "So I was right."

"You mean you didn't know for sure?"

She shakes her head. "My guides were showing me things . . . but I guess I didn't want to believe them."

"What did they show you?"Calla asks, still not certain her grandmother knows it was Darrin.

"The details aren't important."

"Did they show you who my mother was with?"

"It wasn't even that specific. I just got that there was another man, and secrets . . . and guilt. Terrible guilt, on her part."

"Not enough to keep her faithful to Dad, though."

"You don't know that for sure."

"Yes, I do."

When Dad was visiting Lily Dale back in September, he told Calla that for months before she died, Mom had become increasingly detached from him, more absorbed than usual in her work.

Yeah, right. She wasn't traveling on business. She was having an affair.

"It was Darrin Yates, wasn't it,"her grandmother says grimly.

"I thought you said your guides didn't show you the details."

"No, but you told me that you'd seen him at the house back in March, and at the funeral. He was obviously back in her life."

"Do you think Dad knew, Gammy?"

"About Darrin?"

"Or just . . . that she was in love with someone else?"

"I doubt Stephanie would spell it out for him, but if that was the case, I'm sure he sensed something was going on. You don't have to be a psychic to know when things aren't right in a marriage."

She's speaking from experience, Calla knows. She can't see Odelia's eyes, but her voice is taut with pain.

"My father told me things weren't the same lately,"Calla tells her. "He told me that my mother had taken a big step back from him before she died. Maybe it was more than that. Maybe he just didn't want me to know the whole story."

"I'm sure he didn't. If he even knew the whole story."

Calla shakes her head sadly, feeling terribly sorry for her father . . . and for herself.

"I really thought she loved him."

"Honey, she did. She loved him more than anything- they were good together. When they were first married, when you were born, when you were little . . . the last time I saw them . . . they were crazy about each other. I couldn't imagine that would ever change, but . . . things do. People do."

Feeling sick inside, Calla sinks onto the steps again. "I know people change, but . . . that much?"

"That much."