Page 61 of Nothing Less than Magic
Chelsea,
No one has heard from you since the last time we talked, and we continue to worry about you. Ronnie says you haven’t been in touch with her in days. She says you’re not responding to any of her emails, texts, or phone calls. I’m not trying to pressure you. If you need a break after everything that you’ve been through that’s understandable. I know how badly you were in need of a vacation (you work too hard) and if this is your way of checking out, I get it. I really do. But please drop her a quick line (or me for that matter) to let us know that everything is okay.
Yours,
Austin
I don’t know why he sends texts as if they’re letters. But for as long as I’ve known him, he writes them formally that way. Like he’s an old man.
I quickly tap out a message to Ronnie.
Austin says you’ve been trying to reach me. My email wasn’t working for a while, but I’ve since had it fixed. Hopefully by now you’ve received the email I sent you this morning. I don’t know why we haven’t been able to reach each other by phone. I’ve tried you repeatedly but you don’t answer. I’m leaving tonight to make my flight to Albuquerque in the morning. We’ll touch base then. All is well on my end. Hope the same for you.
I hit the send button and get out of the car, taking the stairs to Misty’s front porch. She opens the door before I can knock.
“Come in.” She moves aside.
I’m hit with a rush of warm air. As we enter the living room, I see she has a big fire going. There’s a plate of cheese and crackers on the burlwood table and a carafe of wine, like we’re having a picnic. It was only about an hour ago that I had breakfast.
“This is lovely,” I say.
“Did you do the exercises?”
“Yes. But I don’t understand. How is doing a word puzzle going to unblock me?”
“It’s not the puzzle. It’s the words. We’ll see if it makes a difference. Is there anything to report?”
“Like what?” The question throws me. It’s almost as if she knows all the things that have happened since I left here five days ago, and she’s testing me.
“Like anything illuminating or confusing or just plain wonderful.”
Yes, to all of the above.
“There was this one thing. A police officer pulled me over the other night.” This is how I start, because I’m not sure I want to get into the others. I especially don’t want to tell her about Knox’s kiss, because it’s still too fresh, too new, too wonderful. And I want to preserve it all for myself. “The cop said I was weaving, which I wasn’t. In any event, he kept referencing my father. Stuff like ‘Your daddy taught you better, girl.’ And ‘You of all people should know better.’ It was as if he knew my late father was a cop, like he was intimately familiar with my family. When he sent me on my way, he told me to say hello to my father for him, which is impossible, because my father is deceased. Dead. Besides, there’s no way he could possibly know my father.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Hmm. What do you think?” Misty asks.
“I think it was probably a case of mistaken identity. But it was . . . eerie just the same.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I suppose if I believed in the . . . supernatural”—I hesitate to use the wordwoo-wooas not to offend her—”it would be a message of some sort, foreshadowing.”
“As far as thesupernatural, you’re here, aren’t you?” She fills two glasses with a heavy pour of wine and hands me one. It’s only ten. I’m starting to think Misty might have a drinking problem.
“Foreshadowing of what?” she wants to know.
“Aren’t you supposed to tell me?” I can analyze myself till the cows come home; I don’t need Misty for that.
She takes both my hands and closes her eyes, like she did the last two times, then does her concentration thing. Whether it’s real or not . . . well, who can say?
“I’m seeing a gas station,” she says, pushing her face forward like she’s there. Like she’s at the gas station. “The one at the top of Cascade Road, not far from here. You’re anxious.” Her eyes pop open. “I wasn’t aware you were afraid of heights.”
I nod, stunned. I never told her that.
