Between Darkness and Daylight (29 page)

"Different how?"

"I see things—people, situations—things that haven't happened yet…remote viewing..."

Okay, now they were wading into dangerous
Sixth Sense
waters he was sure he didn't want to explore.

How did we go from a perfect sensual idyll in the shower to
the Twilight Zone in the bedroom
in no time flat?

But didn’t what she was saying about herself explain why he felt so connected to her, why they meshed so well?

The thought should have comforted him, but it didn’t.

"Please don't look at me like that, Zane."

He could only imagine. "Like what?"

"Like I'm some wacko," she whispered. "I know this is all coming out of left field for you, but I've been living with it for a long time. And it's something I can't do anything about."

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Zane sidled toward the bedroom door. "Can't do anything about these visions?"

"Yes, exactly." She searched his face. For what, he didn't know, but whatever it was, she must not have found it. Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she sauntered towards him, portfolio under her arm. "I should go, give you some time to think."

Her words were so anticlimactic, Zane didn't know how to respond. He finally just settled for silence.

"May I?" She reached for the sketch in his hand and Zane hesitated, on the verge of asking her why when she said, "I just want to have something…something of you..."

He handed it over with some reservations, still numb with disbelief and shock as he took one last glance at the details—his face, the date—and thought for the first time about the quality of the art. It reminded him of some of Sinny's paintings. "It's your picture."

"Yes it is." Nova headed for the living room, Zane close on her heels as she grabbed her coat from the pegboard and turned back to him. There was urgency in her tone when she said, "I never meant to hurt you, Zane.

You have to believe that."

And just as she reached for the door to leave, Ransom unlocked it with his key and entered the apartment. "Hey!"

"Hey."

Ransom frowned. "What's up?"

"I'll let your uncle speak to you about it." She squeezed by and glanced back to address the teen one last time. "Go easy on him, Ran-man." She leaned in to peck his cheek, then left.

Zane could hear the recriminations loud and clear before Ransom even opened his mouth, the boy's look of accusation was so sharp.

"You sent her away?"

"Ransom, there are things that go on between adults you can't understand."

"Sure I can. You sent her away."

Zane covered his face and groaned. "I don't have time to discuss this right now, Ran."

"Why not? Isn't my opinion important enough?"

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The kid’s opinion was more than important, probably would have been enough to keep him from letting Nova leave without more of a fight, if he'd gotten here just a few minutes earlier…

Damn, how could he just let her walk out the door so easily?

Ransom must have sensed his foul mood because he headed to his room without another word.

Zane was no longer sure if he was looking forward to the upcoming holidays as an escape from all that had just happened, or if he was just eager for a reason to celebrate and see his mom. He was desperately in need of an understanding ear and moral support. One thing he
was
sure of, though; he'd had both from Nova and already missed them more than he wanted to admit. He didn't know how he was going to get through the next several days, faking a smile and a good time. But he had to.

He sauntered down the hall to his room, pausing at Ran's closed door.

He could only imagine the sort of rebuff that would greet him if he knocked, but he felt compelled to explain, to defend himself.

Finally, he let his hand drop and continued down the hall.

There was nothing he could say, he knew, nothing Ransom wanted to hear. Because in the end, the only thing that mattered to either of them was whether or not Nova would be coming back, and Zane didn't have an answer to that.

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Chapter 18

Days later, and miles and miles outside of the city limits, Nova was still castigating herself, knowing she could have handled that scene with Zane so much better. Even after he'd caught her retrieving the picture and her portfolio from the bureau, she could have leveled with him earlier rather than have come off a guilty convict trying to weasel out of a crime.

To say she had royally screwed up her entire approach with bad timing was an understatement.

Her previous close call with Ransom should have taught her a lesson, made her more careful with her belongings around the house and around Zane. She shouldn't even have been carrying the damn sketch around with her. But she'd gotten used to having it nearby, for those moments when she wanted to look at the face of the man who'd been haunting her for so many months, just to reassure herself that he
was
out there somewhere, and real.

But maybe that was all a lame excuse. Maybe subconsciously, she'd just wanted Zane to find the picture so that he'd back her into having to tell him who she was and why she'd turned up in New York, in his life.

Now it was too late, and she had irreparably damaged any feeling the man might have held for her.

She certainly had enough time to scold herself for all the mistakes she'd made in her relationship with him. She was only halfway through a six-and-a-half-hour ride out to her parents' for the long Thanksgiving Holiday weekend.

Nova had started to miss them—Zane and Ransom—somewhere

during the first hour of her drive, not even a hundred miles into her journey. She missed their male essences, Ransom's fun-loving youthful freshness and Zane's dutiful seriousness. Such contrasts, the friendly 204

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company and their positive auras, would have come in handy in taking her mind off how long her trip was and what she had to face at the other end.

Other than saying she needed a change of scenery, she had never confided to her mother the reasons behind her move to New York, and her mother hadn't pushed her about it, except to say, "You're your mother's daughter."

If only her mother knew just how much.

Not only had Nova not confided her reasons, she had never mentioned her visions and near-death-experience, knowing what unpleasantness would have followed. Her mother would have pushed for her to relocate to East Aurora, right before she rushed her off to become a member of her temple and join the Spriritualist faith. Yearly sabbaticals out to Lily Dale to commune with nature and participation in Spiritual Healing Circles were the next logical steps. Quick on the heels of her conversion and confirmation would come her mother's insistence that she use her gifts to help mankind. Nova would be expected to do all the things a good little gifted spiritualist medium was meant to do.

She could hear her mother's sale's pitch now.
"You owe it not only to
yourself, but to the others in our faith not as gifted and strong as you but
still trying to find their way.”."

Her mother would want her to become a healer, and a teacher; it was the Spiritualist way—each individual’s duty to teach at least one other in their faith—each one, teach one.

Well, Nova wasn't ready to give up her life to become a guru. She wasn't Zane, God bless his soul, and she wasn't her mother. She was sure she didn't have the dutiful gene that seemed to drive each of these individuals to their dedicated service to humanity.

Was this selfish of her, to deny her heritage, especially when she knew she had the gift and could very well put it to good use if she put her mind and heart into it? Was there something inherently wrong in not following her mother's path?

Nova thought that perhaps she was being unfair, attributing intrusive tendencies and impossibly high standards of morality to her mother when neither could have been further from the truth. Her mother had barely batted an eye when she'd mentioned she was moving, barely asked about her relationship with Matt and whether or not he was accompanying her to
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New York or even if he was still in the picture. That had been more telling than if she had badgered Nova for information because her mother had never liked Matt. Oh, she thought he was a decent enough guy, but just not right for her.

What would her mother do if she knew about Zane? What would she say if she knew Nova had left her fiancé to settle halfway across the country and be with a man she barely knew?

* * * *

Nova merged onto Aurora Expressway about twelve miles from her destination, all but taking for granted the lush cranberry and rust fall foliage she'd been driving by for the last hour, though its breathtaking quality made it nearly impossible for a mere mortal to ignore. Rich rolling hills topped with burnished golds and sun-kissed greens and reds were mainstays of East Aurora and its surrounding towns and attracted scenic tours to the area every year. Old-fashioned penny candy, mom-and-pop stores, and historic redbrick houses rounded out the
Cheers-Mayberry
vibe.

But the beautiful landscape and laid-back atmosphere didn't make Nova forget where she was going and who she was going to meet; they only emphasized the contrasts, the serene countryside against the emotional maelstrom she was about to become a part of. The closer she got to her mother's home, the more she wished she had Zane and Ransom by her side – it as if she were going to meet a fire-breathing dragon and needed the daring knights' protection! The reality was far more insidious and frightening, however, since her mother was more threatening and forceful in her silent convictions than any fire-breathing dragon would ever be guarding the castle.

Making a left on Temple Place, she took a deep breath of the country air to fortify herself. She made her way to Oakwood Avenue and neared the brick house where her mother and father had settled down and been living for the last few years.

As soon as Desmond Foxx retired from the Marine Corps, Maylea had dragged him to the quiet, sleepy town of East Aurora to ensure that he'd keep his promise to her. And he had, buying the nice quaint house with a 206

Gracie C. McKeever

picket fence, a back yard, and all the other trappings of sedate suburban living that Maylea had been dreaming of since leaving her affluent parents'

home in Hawaii.

Nova didn't think she could do it—what she thought of as the whole Green Acres trip—had never pictured such a settled-down existence for herself with anyone. She was spoiled by the military traveling life she'd lived since birth; it was a life she now looked back on with fondness and thanked her father for providing. She often thought she was more cut out for the life than he was, having seen how much it tore at him when they had to move yet again and he had to break the news to his young daughter and wife that they were being uprooted.

She pulled her Mercedes around the back of the house, parked in the driveway, and blew her horn three short bursts to warn her parents she had arrived. She couldn't count the times in her teenage years when she'd popped into the house unannounced and caught her parents in a torrid embrace, making out like horny teens. She smiled at the image as she got out of the car and headed up the cobblestone walkway to the front door.

Mom and Dad squeezed in their sessions whenever they could and always had, as if they were just tiding themselves over until the next time they could be together.

Nova had always wanted to have as passionate a relationship with her lover, as long-lasting, and had thought she'd found that with Matt before the accident. Afterward, there had been the visions, and then Zane, and Matt certainly couldn't be faulted for her desertion. He couldn't help what she was any more than she could. And she couldn't help the need that had made her strike out to find the stranger from her visions.

But it was what she'd done once she'd found the stranger that had ruined her chances at ever achieving a lasting relationship with anyone.

How could she expect any man to put up with her faithlessness, to trust her, when she couldn't fully trust any man with her secrets, or her heart?

Nova told herself Zane was better off without her. But she wasn't better off without him. She wanted to believe that he missed her at least a little, that he cared about her even a tenth of the amount she cared about him. She knew she needed him, and knew he needed her, but convincing him of that had been her downfall.

"Nova, baby!"

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Her mother stood at the open door, waving to her until she reached the front porch.

Nova smiled as she neared, admiring the glow of her mother's lightly tanned skin, the sheen to her dark-brown eyes and long black hair. She looked as healthy and beautiful as Nova remembered her, and was the only middle-aged woman she knew who could make a muumuu and

Birkenstock sandals seem slinky and sexy. Of course, she knew the dynamite body that dwelled beneath the brightly colored fabric, the sort of tight figure and rounded curves that could make Rubens cry. But her mother never had invested much weight in her looks (easy when she didn't have to work at looking good) or the looks of others. Mom believed that the body was but a shell, and that the most important part of a human being was the inside, the soul. She did, however, favor her talismans and always wore an amber crystal pendant around her neck and some form of a sunflower pin on her person.

Nova bent slightly and went into her mother's outstretched arms, feeling like Goliath next to her slim five-two frame.

Her mother pulled back to hold her at arm's length, arching her eyebrows as she gave Nova a thorough once-over. "Your aura is cloudy.

You're troubled."

"Mom, could we hold off on the spiritual healings and readings at least until I get into the house and settle down?"