Reckoning Page 6

  He shrugs. “Yeah, it’s pretty unusual. But I guess I’m stuck with it.”

  “It’s…interesting,” I say, wishing I could think of something better to say.

  Thinking about his name, I remember the information Liz gave my mom. Hadn’t she said the buyers were Carlotta and Michael Ambrose? Is Lovell their son? He is obviously young, probably somewhere between high school and college.

  He is watching me intently, and I chafe under the scrutiny. I glance to the street, hoping to break his gaze. “Don’t you have a moving van or something?”

  “No,” he shakes his head, but continues looking at me. “I don’t have much in the way of furniture. Just my personal belongings.”

  I half-smiled and nod. I get the feeling he is waiting for me to say something further. Unable to come up with anything else, I add, “I think there’s a short or something in the wiring in your house.” The longer I stand there, the more uncomfortable I become. “A light kept flickering on and off last night.” I shuffle my feet. “I just happened to notice.”

  “Yeah, I wondered about that. Some of the light switches work and some don’t.”

  “You should probably get an electrician to look at it.” His eyes hold mine. I find it impossible to look away.

  “Yeah, I will. Your mom recommended one, in fact. Got the number here.” He holds up a slip of paper.

  “Good,” I say, suddenly desperate to get inside, away from his gaze. His nearness. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder when he’d spoken with my mom.

  “Well, I better get going,” he says, smiling. I can’t help but notice he has perfect teeth. “It was nice to meet you, Kat.” He holds out his hand.

  “Nice to meet you.” Reluctantly, I place my hand in his. His fingers instantly close around mine, warmth radiating from his palm. I feel an odd tingling sensation and quickly release my grip, hoping he hasn’t noticed my reaction.

  “Sorry,” I mumble. Apparently it’s my turn to apologize. “I’m all sweaty. I just came back from a run.” I rub my hands against my sweatpants.

  “Yeah. I kind of guessed.” His eyes sweep down to my feet and back up again, one corner of his mouth turning up in an incredibly sexy manner. I quickly push the thought aside. The guy is too weird to be sexy. “Maybe we can go for a run together sometime.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” Is he asking me out? I have no idea. If he is, I know I won’t be taking him up on the offer.

  “See you around,” he says, and walks across the lawn to his house.

  I dart inside, thinking that no matter how much I love my neighborhood, or Mr. Davich, or my house, we need to move. Immediately.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “What’s with the new neighbor?” I demand, tossing the newspaper onto the kitchen counter.

  “Hmm?” my mom says, turning her gaze from the TV, looking at me inquiringly. “Oh! Did you meet him?” She removes her glasses, her eyes shining with excitement. “He’s really nice, isn’t he? And talk about hot!”

  “Mom!” I cry, grossed out by her wicked grin and waggling eyebrows. The guy is half her age. It’s a little disturbing.

  “Well, he is,” she protests, ignoring my look of disgust. “You have to admit it.”

  I groan inwardly, leaning against the counter. “Yeah. Whatever. I didn’t notice.” I totally had, but don’t want to discuss the obvious physical attributes of our decidedly creepy neighbor. And definitely not with my mom. “How is it that you’ve met him already?”

  “He came over right after you left for your run. Wanted to know if he could borrow a coffee cup. He was just going to make instant coffee using hot water from the tap. Can you imagine? Awful. So I invited him in for a decent cup of the real thing.” She holds up her mug, like it’s some kind of trophy. She looks entirely too pleased with herself. “We had a nice chat.”

  “You’re too generous, Mom. Do you really think you should have invited him in? He’s a complete stranger. Don’t you remember telling me over and over never to talk to strangers?”

  “It’s different when you’re a child. You shouldn’t talk to strangers. But as an adult you have to make an effort to get to know people.”

  I give her a more than skeptical look.

  “He was perfectly harmless, Kat. I could tell. He’s just a young man, trying to get settled.”

  I reach for a cluster of red grapes from a bowl on the counter and pop one into my mouth. “He says he moved in in the middle of the night. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

  My mom shakes her head, taking a sip of coffee. “No. His flight out of Boston was delayed for several hours due to weather. Apparently we weren’t the only ones to get hit with some pretty severe storms last night. Anyway, he didn’t get in until after two.”

  Likely story, I think. “And what about his parents?”

  “For the time being, he’s living there by himself. He’s eighteen, just graduated. His parents are world relief workers, so he’s spent most of his life moving from place to place. They’re in Indonesia right now, helping to build houses. He’s hoping they’ll be back by the end of summer. In the meantime, he’s going to get the house in order for them. I think we should do all we can to help him out.”

  Why does my mom have such faith in this guy? He could be totally pulling her leg. Making up any story he wanted.

  “I think you’re a little too trusting,” I say, popping the last grape in my mouth.

  “Kat, he’s given me no reason not to trust him. Give him a chance. And, you have to admit,” she adds, coming over to place her arm around my shoulders, “he’s a lot nicer to look at than Mr. Davich.”

  I roll my eyes in exasperation. “Where’s Dad?” Hopefully, there will be at least one other person who hasn’t taken leave of their senses.

  “Golfing. He’ll be back this afternoon. Then I think he wanted to take you out driving. Make sure your skills are up to snuff. Because somebody’s about to turn seventeen.” She gives me a significant look.

  Just for the moment, I forget about Lovell. “You’re going to let me get my license next week?” I feel a surge of excitement.

  “I can’t imagine why not.”

  “Thanks, Mom!” I hug her and head for the shower. Standing under the spray of hot water, my thoughts return to Lovell and his strange arrival. He may have won over my mom with a wink and a smile and a quick flex of his bicep, but I won’t be so easy.

  _________

  I spend the rest of Saturday cleaning my room, and studying for my chemistry final. I don’t see Lovell again. Apparently, he is busy doing…whatever it is you do in an empty house.

  Dad takes me out driving during the afternoon and everything goes perfectly. I even manage to parallel park on the first try. He confirms what my mom hinted at earlier, and promises that I can schedule the driving test for my license next week.

  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 m
e, 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.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  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?