Reckoning (8 page)

Now I just have to work on getting the Jeep.

Rachel drops by on Sunday, full of new design ideas after her visit to the gem and jewelry show. Her newest obsession is crystals and their metaphysical properties. She is totally into it, raving about healing energies and mystical properties, and a lot of other things I’m not really following.

“What do you think of this?” she asks, holding up a drawing of a three-strand necklace. She sits cross-legged on my bed, wearing skinny jeans, wedge sandals, a sparkly purple t-shirt and a long, red scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. “The first strand will have a small, oval moonstone which is the Goddess Stone. It connects with the feminine and the energy and power of the moon. The second strand will have a lapis crystal, which is this gorgeous deep blue. Lapis opens your consciousness to give you deeper insights into the mysteries of life. I think with some silver filigree around it, it’ll be awesome. And the last strand is kyanite, which is this really beautiful soft, silvery blue. It’ll be wrapped in sterling silver, maybe accented with small amethyst beads.”

I look at her and smile. The supposed powers of the stones are a little far-fetched for me, but her design is really beautiful. “I think it’s gorgeous, Rach,” I reply honestly. “I could never think of anything like that.”

“Thanks.” She smiles and lays the drawing on the bed, studying it while chewing on her thumbnail.

“So what’s kyanite’s magical property?” I ask, teasingly. “Does it make you leap tall buildings in a single bound?”

“No, smart-ass. It opens energy pathways. Cool, huh?”

“Yeah, totally,” I agree.

She tosses her pencil at me and I laugh, tossing it back.

“So how was your weekend?” Rachel asks, stretching out to lie on her stomach.

I decide not to tell her about Friday night, because I’ll probably just sound paranoid and pathetic. So I simply tell her my new neighbor has moved in, adding that he’s a little weird, and leave it at that.

“You probably just need to get to know him,” she says, flipping through the pages of a gem catalog. “Everybody’s weird when you first meet them.”

“I don’t know. I think this guy’s just weird.
Period
.” I stretch across the end of the bed, blowing on the new coat of pale pink polish I’ve just applied to my fingernails.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Rachel exclaims. She springs up and grabs her messenger bag, rummaging through the pockets. “Here. I got this for you.” She extends her hand, something green and shiny clasped between her fingers.

My eyes widen in surprise. “What is it?” I sit up and take it from her. A polished heart-shaped stone rests in the palm of my hand. It is about two inches wide and shimmers with feathery layers of deep green and silver. I tip my hand back and forth, and the pattern shifts, changing with the angle of the light. It’s almost as though gossamer wings are trapped within the stone.

“Rachel! It’s beautiful!”

She smiles. “I knew you’d like it. I got it at the jewelry show. I saw it and, for some reason, thought of you. Think of it as an early birthday present.”

“Thank you! I love it.” I jumped up and hug her. “What kind of stone is it?”

“It’s seraphinite. I don’t know too much about it, but the dealer told me the name comes from the Greek Seraphim. Which is like the highest order of angels, or something.”

“That is so awesome,” I murmur.

“It’s supposed to help you connect with the angelic realm. And bring you along in your evolution.”

“My evolution? So, what…I’m, like, evolving?”

“Aren’t we all? All the time?”

“Yeah. I guess so.” I can’t stop looking at the stone.

“I know there’s a lot more to it. I’m sure you can probably Google it and find out all kinds of info.” She glances at her watch. “Shoot. I gotta go. I’m supposed to help Cassie with her math homework tonight. Mom’ll kill me if I’m late.” She swings her bag over her shoulder and grabs the gem catalog.

I walk her out, still entranced with the seraphinite, watching the patterns shift and change.

“Don’t stare at it too long,” she chides. “You might go blind!” She laughs, and gives me a quick hug before opening her car door and tossing her purse inside. Straightening, she stares down the street, her head cocked to one side. “What is with that house, anyway?”

I look up, following her gaze to the empty house at the end of the block. Shrugging, glance to the upper windows. Old glass, cloudy and cracked, dully reflects the orange glow of the setting sun. “It’s just an old house. Nothing in there.” I keep my voice neutral.

“But it’s so creepy! Every time I drive by it I get…” She leaves her sentence unfinished.

“What?” I look at her closely.

“I don’t know. It just creeps me out, I guess.” She turns and looks at me. “Have you ever been in there?”

“No.” I shake my head. “It really should be torn down.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she says softly, looking back at the house. “Well, I gotta go!” She lowers herself into the car. “See you tomorrow!”

“Thanks again!” I call after her.

Her car disappears down the street, and I glance back at the house, my eyes straying once again to the bedroom window. My stomach tightens. The reflection of the sunset disappears, replaced by the shadowy form of the woman I’ve grown used to seeing over the years. She hovers behind the glass, eerily still and foreboding, her pale eyes looking down at me. The familiar cold feeling of dread fills my stomach. She lifts a hand and my scalp tingles as I watch her dead fingers press against the cracked panes. I turn away.

Rubbing my thumb across the smooth surface of the seraphinite stone, I start to head inside when a flicker of movement catches the corner of my eye. Lovell is standing at his front window, a cloth in one hand, a bottle of Windex in the other. He waves and smiles before squirting the window and rubbing vigorously at the glass.

I wave back. I brief gesture of acknowledgement, and hurry inside.

I get through my chemistry final without working up too much of a headache. I feel fairly confident that I did well enough to at least get a C. Which, considering my math skills, is pretty respectable.

After school, I go grocery shopping with my mom, a decision that I quickly regret as she grills me all through the store about boys and if there is anyone in particular I like. She’s been pushing me all year to get out more, convinced my social life is entirely too lacking. Maybe it is. But, other than Rick, there isn’t anyone I’m even remotely interested in. And I’m definitely not prepared to talk about him. I know she just wants the best for me, but the few dates I’ve been on have been more awkward and uncomfortable than exciting and fun. And after thirty minutes of endless questions and unwanted encouragement, I just want to drop the subject.

I sigh with relief when we pull up in front of our house, hopping out of the car before she’s even turned off the engine. I head to the back and wait for her to pop the trunk.

Grabbing two bags with each hand, I turn to the house and gasp in surprise. Lovell stands in front of me, blocking the walkway. Aggravation surges through me. Why does he always seem to appear out of nowhere?

“Hey, Kat,” he says, with the half-smile that does something weird to my pulse. “I was just out walking around the neighborhood. Can I help with those?”

“Hi, Lovell!” my mom calls, stepping around the side of the car before I can answer. “How nice to see you!” She is smiling a little too widely.

“Hi, Mrs. Matheson. I was just offering Kat a hand with the bags.”

“That would great! Thank you!” She beams like he’s just offered to do her landscaping for free, not simply carry in grocery bags. “Such a gentleman,” she mumbles softly, nudging me with her elbow.

Lovell bends down to the trunk, grabbing the rest of the bags. I roll my eyes and head inside.

I place the bags on the kitchen counter. I can sense Lovell right behind me. I step to the side and his arm brushes against mine. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and take a long drink. He is watching me again.

“So how are you settling in?” my mom asks, like she hasn’t seen him in a month.

“OK,” he answers, slowly moving his gaze away from me to look at my mom. “Getting to know the neighborhood.”

“Good! It’s a nice area. I think you’ll like it here.”

“Yeah. I think so, too.” His eyes turn back to me.

“Have you met Henry Davich yet, on the other side of us?”

Lovell shakes his head. “No. Aside from you guys, I haven’t met anybody.”

“One of the friendliest, most helpful people you’ll ever know.” She reaches for a flowered china bowl on one of the upper shelves. “You’ll see him out in his garden a lot this time of year. Be sure to introduce yourself.”

“I will. Thanks.” Stepping forward, he smoothly grabs the bowl, placing it in my mother’s hands.

She smiles gratefully, before filling it with fresh pears. I yank the carton of milk from a grocery bag and deposit it in the refrigerator with a loud plop.

“You be sure and let us know if there’s anything we can do to help,” my mom says, pulling items out of the bags. “Would you like a pudding cup?” She tears open the package, offering him one of the small, plastic containers.

A pudding cup? Oh, God, Mom. Please.

“Sure,” Lovell says. “Thanks.” He peels back the top, and dips his finger in, keeping his eyes on me while he licks it off.

I turn to the sink in disgust. What is with this guy? Is my mom blind?

Reaching into a drawer, she hands him a spoon, the silly smile still on her face. I take a deep breath and start putting groceries away. As much as I want to escape, to be in any room where he
isn’t
, I’m not about to leave her alone with him. I suddenly feel like the mom watching over her wayward daughter. The whole thing is just wrong.

Lovell leans against the counter, slowly eating the pudding, one ankle crossed over the other, muscles rippling beneath his gray t-shirt. I look away, tossing packages of rice and pasta into the cupboard.

“How’s everything at the house?” my mom asks, arranging cans of vegetables in the cupboard. “Did you get the electricity figured out?”

“Yeah, I did,” Lovell replies, twirling his spoon in the pudding. “Turns out there
was
a short in the wiring. He fixed it, but said the whole house should probably be re-wired. It’s pretty old. And definitely not up to supporting today’s electronics. But I’ll leave that up to my parents.”

“And when
are
you parents moving in?” I ask bluntly, crumpling a grocery bag into a tight ball before dropping it into the trash.

Lovell takes a bite of pudding, turning the spoon around backward before licking it clean. His blue eyes lock onto mine. “They’re hoping to be back end of August, first part of September. But sometimes their work ends up taking longer than expected. So, who knows? It might be just me for a while.” He keeps looking at me, his voice loaded with innuendo. How can my mom not be picking up on this?

I turn my attention to the cans of tuna, aligning their labels before handing them to my mom.

“Well, they should be commended for what they do,” my mom says, folding the last of the bags and placing them in a sack for recycling. “We should all be so generous with our time and energy.”

“Absolutely,” Lovell agrees. “They’re pretty cool.” He finishes his pudding and tosses the cup into the trash. “You wouldn’t happen to know of a good antiques store around here would you? I need to start getting some stuff and I thought a few things that match the age of the house would be nice. Plus, my mom likes that kind of thing.” He smiles at my mom. I think I might be sick.

“Yes!” she says enthusiastically. “There’s a really good one, just a few blocks from here. In fact, it’s one of Kat’s favorite places!”

“Really?” Lovell turns his smile in my direction.

“Yeah. You know, maybe Kat should go with you. She’s really into antiques and things like that. She could probably give you a few tips.”

Oh, God, Mom. Shut up.

“That would be great,” Lovell says, looking at me expectantly. I get the sudden feeling he’s set this whole thing up. Arranged it all from the start. But how would he have known I like antiques? “I don’t know much about what to buy for a house. And a woman’s touch is always nice.” They way he says it made me think he means something other than a feminine perspective on interior decorating.

I turn and looked at him speculatively, crossing my arms on my chest. “You don’t have any furniture from your last place?”

Lovell shakes his head. “No. We lived in a furnished apartment. It makes it easier when you move around a lot.”

“So why buy stuff now?”

“My parents want some place to finally settle. I think they’re getting kind of tired of living like nomads. Nothing to call their own.”

“That’s understandable,” my mom agrees.

“If you’re up for it, maybe we could go tomorrow, after you get home from school?” His expression is open and friendly as he waits for my answer.

“I think that would be perfect,” my mom says, before I can reply. “What do you think, Kat?”

No way. Absolutely not.
“Um, well, I’ll probably have homework and stuff…”

“Oh, that can wait. And besides, what homework can there be? It’s the last week of school.”

I hold back a sigh of exasperation. Why is my mom practically throwing me at the guy?

OK. Fine
, I think. If that’s the way she wants it, I’ll play along. I’ll use this as an opportunity to find out everything I can about him so I can convince her he can’t be trusted. The antiques store is a public place. What could possibly happen in the middle of the afternoon?

“OK,” I say, as if it’s no big deal. I know he’s watching me, but I refuse to look at him, gulping down the rest of my water.

“Great. Thanks, Kat. 3:30 sound good?” Lovell asks.

“Sure.” Whatever. I just want to get it over with.

The next day ends entirely too quickly, every class flying by in record time. Although I’d agreed to go with Lovell, I can’t help but have second thoughts, and by afternoon, I’m almost desperate enough to try and intentionally earn a detention – getting caught writing something nasty on the wall of the girl’s bathroom or swearing at one of the teachers. Anything to keep me in school. But in the end, I don’t have the guts.