Her preoccupation made her stupid. She managed to put the salt and pepper shakers in the refrigerator, and when they were out running more errands and she stopped to get gas, she drove away from the pump without replacing her gas cap. Luckily when the cap fell off the hood of the car, it rolled to the edge of the gas station’s parking lot, and she was able to find it easily enough when she drove back to look for it.
She also had a difficult time focusing on what had happened in the back meadow, but she forced herself to concentrate. Because of her own impetuousness, she had put herself in danger, and she couldn’t afford to do that again so cavalierly. While the children napped, she concentrated on running through the mental exercises her grandmother had taught her. She pulled up the Oracle’s Power carefully, and when she let it go again, she did so slowly in a controlled fashion.
By the time she had finished practicing a few times, she was able to call the Power up at any time of the day or night, no matter where she was. While she would never forget how dangerous it could be, working with it had a different quality than it had that first wild, tempestuous time. It no longer strained to flow away from her or bucked to get away from her control.
Early in the morning, she spent over an hour carefully looking for evidence that the strange ghost was still influencing it, but the serpent woman really had relinquished her hold and was nowhere to be found. The more Grace worked with the Power, the more readily it came to hand. Now if she could only figure out what all of it meant, but she thought that might take years or even decades. She made a silent promise to Chloe to work as hard as she could to make it hers irrevocably. Immortal Power or not, she planned to take it with her when she died. Then Chloe, along with any other female descendants Grace might have, would be truly free to explore destinies of their own choosing.
That was Grace’s destiny. It was the first thing in her life, including college, that she embraced wholeheartedly.
By the time Khalil showed up Wednesday evening to read Chloe the promised story, Grace thought she had the whole incident with him figured out.
She thought it was possible to sometimes hurt too badly to accept comfort. Maybe by offering him the hug, she had touched something he couldn’t bear to have touched. If that was so, she wasn’t sure what to do next. It didn’t seem quite the thing to apologize or to bring it up so they could talk, but keeping silent felt strange too. She felt adrift at sea, unable to make a decision as to how to move forward.
Khalil did not show up until after supper. By then she had tied herself up in knots. She and Chloe were picking the day’s toys up and stacking them in the living room toy box. Max stood at the coffee table, hanging onto the edge while he chewed on plastic toy keys. He was teething and had become obsessed with chewing on anything he could get his hands on.
Khalil appeared in silence, but she could feel his arrival at her back. Her pulse leaped. She turned from the toy box, tangled up in pleasure, self-consciousness, discomfort and confusion.
Whoa. He seemed bigger when she hadn’t seen him for a day.
His arms were crossed. He wore plain black. Even though she had seen him assume other colors, black seemed to be his go-to color when in physical form. His hair was bound back again, and his pale, elegant face wore a closed expression. He held his energy tight with rigid restraint. Looking at him was like running full speed into a wall.
Oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room, Chloe sang out a happy greeting, skipped up to him and flung out her arms. He gave the little girl a slight smile and picked her up. “What shall I assist you in reading today?”
“The terrible, no good day!” she said.
“That is an excellent choice,” he told her. “I would have picked it too.”
He carried Chloe over to the bookcase where she leaned over to retrieve the book, then they settled in the armchair. Max let go of the coffee table, fell to his diaper-padded bottom and scuttled over to them eagerly. Khalil scooped the baby up too, and he began to read to them.
Aside from a glance and a nod, Khalil didn’t speak to Grace. Her leaping pulse twisted into a heavy sludge, and her own energy clenched into a hurt knot. So that’s what it was going to be like, was it?
Fine. Screw him.
Their laundry pile had turned into a mountain. She was determined to catch up before people arrived on Saturday. She went into the kitchen to switch loads, fold clothes and diapers, and carry most of them to the children’s bedroom. After she had put their things away, she straightened and dusted, changed their sheets, and then she went into the half bath, which had somehow turned into a disaster area. She cleaned the mirror, scrubbed vigorously at the sink and toilet and mopped the floor. Then it was time to switch the laundry around again and fold more clothes.
The house felt too close, and the fans did little more than push the humid air around. The ghosts sighed and murmured with vague restlessness. Outside, the crickets and cicadas began to saw their nightly symphony. Grace felt toxic with sweat and dust, bathroom cleaning chemicals and anger.