“I guess I didn’t let Lisa tell me the whole story . . . I just . . . I wanted to hear it from you.” His voice had gotten quiet and warm. A slow tingle crept along my spine.
I smiled. “I’m glad you did. I’ve missed you.” I moved back toward him, not caring at the moment that my family was in the living room trying to get the tracked foam out of the carpet, and was enjoying our reunion when someone coughed nearby.
Seth stood in the doorway, averting his gaze with a pained look on his face.
“Sorry, I need to get the ladder from the basement. Papa is working on the alarm in the hallway.” He looked over his shoulder and then turned back to whisper, “They’re getting suspicious out there.”
I reluctantly pulled away from Mac and gestured toward the basement door, where the ladder lived.
“I’m gonna be tied up for the next couple of days,” Mac said. “Can we get together later in the week? Maybe for dinner?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
I walked Mac out to the front door and he left to go back to work. I pointedly ignored the stares and raised eyebrows of Mom and Vi.
“Clytemnestra, I need to speak to you.” My shoulders tensed and I turned back toward my mother. My mind raced with excuses and lies to distract her from me and Mac.
“I really need to finish the kitchen, Mom.”
“I’ll do it,” Vi said. “You two go sit on the porch.”
Mom and I stepped outside and I breathed in the crisp air. Someone was burning leaves a few streets over. I wondered why the firemen weren’t harassing them.
“Clyde, come sit.” Mom patted the space next to her on the wicker couch.
I sat and waited.
“You think you can fool me, but I’m your mother and I know you better than you think I do.”
I took a deep breath and prepared to tell her about Mac. But she wasn’t done.
“I don’t think Seth came out here for the festival. And I doubt Grace would let him ditch school for a week to come to Michigan when he just spent the whole summer here.”
I felt a little dizzy as the conversation took this unexpected turn. I wasn’t sure which topic was more uncomfortable.
I nodded. “You’re right. Seth came here without telling Grace. But I called her the morning after he arrived and she’s agreed to let him stay for a little while.”
Mom blew out a gust of air. “I was worried about this. The cards have been telling me for months that there is something wrong in New York. I thought it had more to do with Grace than with Seth.”
She played with her amulet and stared past me toward the street.
“Mom? I don’t get the impression that Seth is in any trouble. I think he’s just trying to figure out where he fits in, and he doesn’t feel as comfortable in the city as he does here.”
Mom turned and put her hand over mine. “Do you really think that’s all it is?”
I nodded, feeling guilty at reassuring her when I was worried myself.
“I hope so,” she said. “I can’t tell you how much I worry about you girls, and now I find I’m worrying about Seth, too. I’d do anything to protect you kids.”
“I’ll talk to Seth and try to figure out what’s bothering him. But, he’s safe here with us. Nothing is going to happen to him.”
Mom smiled and patted my hand. We walked back inside together to face the rest of the cleanup.
21
After a couple of hours with everyone pitching in, the kitchen was clean. Seth had gone to my mom’s house with the dogs because she’d promised him brownies. Alex and Tom had departed for work. Alone in the house for the first time in days, I sat on the couch clutching a cup of coffee as I replayed the dream I’d had the night before.
It had seemed so real, climbing to the top of the tower and searching for Seth. Just thinking about it I felt the familiar spinning sensation I got whenever I stood too close to the edge of a balcony, or even a window in a tall building. I tried to deny that it felt like one of those dreams that foretold the future, but I gave up and decided I needed to face it and figure out what it had been trying to tell me.
Seth was in the vision, but unharmed. I felt my shoulders relax a bit as I examined the sequence of events in the light of day. In the past, if I’d envisioned a death or injury, it had been more obvious. In the most recent dream, I felt I needed to help him but I couldn’t be sure he was in real danger. This was one of those times I wished my grandmother were still alive. She would help me interpret the dreams because I so often jumped to the worst conclusion.
I sat up quickly and almost spilled my coffee. Neila Whittle. She could help. She’d practically insisted on helping. I downed the last of the coffee and grabbed my keys.
The drive to her place was less spooky this time. The house still appeared abandoned, but this time I knew what lay inside. My knock echoed within and I heard shufflings and scrapings on the other side of the door. It finally creaked open and Neila stood there, wearing what looked like the same pile of shawls and rags as last time.