Lily Dale: Believing by Wendy Corsi Staub

Author:Wendy Corsi Staub [Staub, Wendy Corsi]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Juvenile Nonfiction, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Multigenerational, Fantasy & Magic, General
ISBN: 9780802796578
Google: hzhnDOagwfUC
Amazon: 0802796575
Publisher: Walker Childrens
Published: 2009-06-09T04:00:00+00:00

TEN

“What . . . what did you say, Dad?” Calla asks, shaken, looking around, seeing no one.

Someone hugged her. Someone invisible. Because it couldn’t have been her father.

“I said, I’m selfish. I miss you.”

Calla nods vaguely, unable to speak, sensing the presence just beside her. A comforting presence. Not like Kaitlyn’s. Or even Aiyana’s.

Mom? Is that you?

She reaches out, half expecting to encounter something— someone—solid and finding only thin air.

Are you here? Oh, Mom . . . I need you so much.

Oblivious, her father sighs. “Listen, Cal, if you came back to California with me now, we could make it work.”

That jars her enough to find her voice, and she manages to say, “I really want to stay awhile longer. Like we said. Please?”

“I’ll think about it,” he says, and the subject is dropped.

Or so it seems.

They walk a few more steps, and her father suddenly says, “That’s bizarre.”

Calla looks up to see him frowning at the shingle on the next house down.

REV. DORIS HENDERSON,CLAIRVOYANT.

Here we go, she thinks, the lingering warmth of the phantom hug evaporating.

“What’s bizarre?” she asks her father, and holds her breath, waiting for a reply.

“Two New Age freaks living right next to each other in the middle of nowhere.”

She should have known the local trade couldn’t stay hidden for very long.

“New Age freaks? Geez, Dad.” She’s so irritated at his phrasing that she forgets, for a moment, about trying to distract him.

Then, remembering that her future here could very well be hanging in the balance, she looks around and points at a bird flying overhead. “Hey, wow, is that a bald eagle? Look! They’re not on the endangered list anymore, you know.”

Her father glances up. “That’s a sparrow.”

Then he says, reading off a shingle on the next house down, “Andy Brighton, Psychic Medium,” and Calla realizes it’s all over.

“Andy’s a friend of Gammy’s, Dad.”

“Really.” His tone says, that just figures.

“Yeah, and his cat just had kittens and we’re getting one— I mean, she’s getting one—in a few days. Isn’t that cool? I’ve always wanted a pet.”

“Mmm-hmm. So he’s a medium? What does that mean, exactly?”

“Oh, you know.”

“No,” her father says evenly, “I don’t.”

“He . . . helps people.”

“By doing what?”

“I don’t know.” That’s sort of the truth. “I mean, I’ve never seen him do it.”

Her father looks around, rubbing his chin.

Then he says, slowly, “Is it just me, or are an awful lot of people around here . . .”

“New Age freaks?” she can’t help but say when he trails off. She’s feeling prickly—and defensive—so she clamps her mouth shut before she really shoves her foot in and ruins everything.

“You said it, not me,” he tells her with a shrug, then admits, “this time, anyway.” He smiles faintly to show her he didn’t mean anything by it.

Deciding to forgive him, Calla says, “Yeah, there are a few mediums around here.” Okay, dozens, but who’s counting?

“That’s interesting.”

He really does seem intrigued. So much so that Calla suddenly decides to take the opposite tack, thinking maybe it’s better to enlighten than obscure the facts.

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