Wherever She Goes (The Psychic Seasons Series Book 4) Read online

  “Tingle?”

  “When all the pieces of a case slide into place it just—it feels right—until then, I am compelled to keep looking. Nothing psychic, just my instincts.”

  “And your instincts about me? What are they telling you?” Kat was curious.

  “That you don’t lie,” he admitted.

  “Trust your gut,” and hearing the unmistakable sounds of Gustavia making her way to the table, that was the last she said on the subject before being whisked away to perform bridesmaid duties.

  Chapter Three

  Back in her room, Kat shucked off the bridesmaid dress and pulled on what felt to her like the rattiest pair of sweatpants in the world. Getting the pins out of her hair took her comfort level up another notch and she happily rubbed her nails over a few spots where the up do had pulled against her scalp then went into the bathroom to scrub off the makeup.

  Finally, feeling more like herself than she had all day, Kat switched on the gas fireplace, huddled on the sofa with her knees drawn up to her chest, and began to sort through the thoughts and impressions that threatened to overwhelm her.

  Julie had been a radiant, beautiful bride. Channeling Estelle’s thoughts and feelings had only served to enhance her own emotions at having the privilege of seeing Julie and Tyler speak their vows. Kat got a bit teary just thinking about it again.

  But, being in a large group of people was something Kat found exhausting on both a spiritual and physical level. She often had to fight to keep her expression from reflecting things that spirit whispered in her ear. Just tonight, for instance, Tyler’s great grandmother had told her a story about a nephew—who just happened to be attending the wedding—a camp outhouse and a handful of firecrackers that was hilariously inappropriate. While she was being introduced to the man.

  She’d just been congratulating herself for getting through the experience without triggering any verbal land mines when Gustavia had practically forced Zack to dance with her. He had said something that made her instinctively turn her face up to his and BAM, her life had been turned upside down again and now she had questions. Questions that may not have answers and no one available to ask—unless…

  “Estelle?” Kat whispered into the darkness hoping the spirit of Julie’s grandmother had had time enough to regenerate just enough energy to communicate.

  “Here,” came the faint reply though Kat sensed the spirit harbored some reluctance about addressing the topic she knew Kat would be raising.

  “Do you know what happened tonight?”

  “Yes. Blue eyes met brown.”

  “But, it only lasted a little while then everything faded back to black. I thought…I mean…was it just a passing thing?” The hope she had felt in those moments of clear vision now felt as substantial as a puff of smoke. Until it was gone, she hadn’t really known how strongly that hope had built inside her.

  “Or will I only be able to see if he is in the room?” Please let that not be the case. He seemed like a nice enough guy and looking at him was no hardship, either. Tall but not lanky, honey blond hair, expressive brown eyes that could go from warm to flat in an instant, kissable lips, and an adorable little cleft in his chin.

  Still, when Estelle had said she would regain her sight, she had assumed the effect would not be conditional on his presence. Now she felt all churned up inside.

  “Have faith, young Kathleen. That it happened once should generate confidence that it will happen again. Be your own catalyst.” Estelle’s voice faded from Kat’s mind.

  Instead of answers, Kat was now left with more questions. Why did spirits always feel the need to be cagey? All this subterfuge was beyond annoying.

  The bed, when she finally climbed into it, felt warm and inviting but sleep did not come easily and when it did, it brought a series of dreams that left Kat feeling unsettled.

  She woke several times during the night to touch the button on her talking alarm clock thinking it must be nearly morning only to find that a bare handful of minutes had passed.

  Each time, a softly slurred whisper faded as she came awake, not distinct enough to make out words though she thought it sounded a bit like, “I’m sorry.” So quiet was the sound she could never be sure if it was an odd way the wind flirted with the eaves or an actual voice speaking to her nearly every night.

  Eventually, unseen out her window, a beautiful sunrise was just nearing its peak of colors when the tiredness of her body finally pulled her mind under and she slept dreamlessly until mid-morning.

  ***

  A cup of tea held in both hands, Gustavia sat at the kitchen table and watched Fritzie and Lola out the window as they gamboled through the mounded snow liberally blanketing the back yard of Hayward House, her temporary home. The sight of the much larger Lola letting little bitty Fritzie break a trail to their favorite stand of bushes brought a smile to her face.

  Fritzie might be on the large side for a Jack Russell terrier but it seemed no one had ever sent him the memo that he was not Lola-sized so even though the boxer towered over the smaller dog, he was always the leader of the pack.

  Since neither dog loved wallowing through deep snow, they were quick to do their business and race back toward the deck. Gustavia hurried to open the sliding glass door just in time for both dogs to flash past her in a flurry of cold air and flying snow.

  The two dogs made a quick circuit around the room to sniff out whether anything had changed during their brief time outside then settled down on the floor around Gustavia’s feet.

  Hayward House had been passed down to Julie but it had been her great grandfather Julius who had had the biggest impact on the place. An inventor, he had made a small fortune off of one of his works. Some of the money had been spent to put his own unique stamp on his home.

  By the time he was finished, both wings of his once perfect example of a large Greek revival home had been modified to add Gothic buttresses and spired rooflines. For the interior, he had wheeled deals with the owner of a large furniture store and a prominent designer. He gave them carte blanch to decorate the bedrooms and other living areas in a variety of styles and take photographs for their brochures and other publicity purposes.

  As a result, every one of the bedroom suites was tightly themed. Rococo, Art Deco, American Craftsman and more. At one point, the house had been used as a boarding home for war-widowed women. Eventually to save on maintenance, most of the furniture had been piled into a couple large storage areas and parts of the house had been closed up. Over the past few months, Julie and Tyler had been systematically restoring the suites to serve as backdrops for the fashion photography that was quickly becoming Julie’s stock in trade.

  Convinced that his ne’er do well son would squander everything passed down to him, Julius had devised a complicated series of clues as a treasure hunt that he felt only a worthy descendant could solve. Then, he’d promptly died before he could pass those clues on to his next of kin.

  By the time Julie ended up sole owner, Hayward House desperately needed windows and a new roof and she was playing beat the clock to come up with the money for the repairs.

  When Gustavia had dragged Julie off to see Kat for a Tarot reading last spring, Julius and Estelle had used the psychic medium to reconnect with their granddaughter, provide her with those clues and a warning about Logan Ellis, to whom she had recently become engaged.

  Now, less than a year later, Julie had shaken off that vile con man of a fiancé and married Tyler Kingsley, the love of her life. Three of the four caches Julius had hidden were already found and Hayward House sat safely under its new roof.

  It hadn’t been only Julie’s life that changed, either. Gustavia had met a long lost aunt, reunited with her family, and found Finn—the man she hoped to start a new family with someday. Of course, she had also been targeted and kidnapped by Julie’s crazy ex who blamed her for every bad thing that had happened to him.

  That’s how she ended up living here—temporarily—at Hayward House. After band
ing together to pull off a spectacular rescue mission led by Amethyst and her tracking abilities, the little group of friends had all gotten together and decided it wasn’t safe for Gustavia to live alone in her little cottage home. And much as she hated to admit it, they were probably right. Logan had grabbed her in broad daylight from a public place and she did feel more protected now even if she missed being in her own space.

  Kat felt the same way, Gustavia knew because they’d talked about it, but the psychic had also been installed in a lovely suite of rooms here because, being blind, she was doubly vulnerable if Logan ever decided to set his sights on anyone other than Julie and Gustavia.

  With a sigh, Gustavia moved around the kitchen tidying up. Content to leave the rest of the house alone, Estelle had redecorated only two rooms turning one into a studio space and updating the kitchen which now carried a heavy sixties vibe mixed with a bit of farmhouse flair.

  Estelle had left the brick fireplace area and the heavy oak trestle table that took up one end of the room and went perfectly with the also still-existing slate sink that spanned a four-foot wide area under the window. Everything else had received a face-lift.

  Most of the budget had gone into installing new appliances, the rest into replacing doors and drawer fronts resulting in a dazzling blend of clean white cabinetry set off by a range, double wall oven, and refrigerator in blush pink.

  The finished room was so totally Estelle that Gustavia could still picture the tiny woman’s birdlike movements as she baked up a batch of light and fluffy biscuits. In the short time she’d known Grams—Estelle insisted on the nickname—Gustavia had soaked up every bit of knowledge she could about cooking and running a home.

  A batch of those biscuits was currently baking in the top oven while from the bottom, wafted the scent of a perfectly constructed frittata.

  Lola perked up just before Gustavia heard the sound of footsteps on the upstairs landing. Kat must have been tired after the wedding celebration because she rarely slept this late. Gustavia couldn’t help but smile as Lola dashed from the room with her usual graceless abandon the minute she heard the first step on the stair.

  From day one, the big dog had taken a liking to the blind woman and felt it was her duty to play guide. Right now, she would be at Kat’s side, using her body to nudge a change of direction around any barrier she perceived might be a problem.

  Knowing her friend’s preferences, Gustavia reached over and punched the button on the coffeemaker. Kat would drink tea but given the option, she preferred coffee. And from the look of her this morning, probably a double shot.

  “Bad dreams?” Gustavia asked with concern after studying the shadows under Kat’s eyes, so dark they stood out in her pale face.

  Voice dry Kat replied, “You’d have to sleep to have dreams.”

  Counting her steps as always, Kat slid into a chair, leaned an elbow on the table to rest her head against her hand.

  “Want to tell me about it?” Gustavia placed a warm hand over Kat’s where it lay on the table. A bubbling gurgle preceded the coffee maker’s beeping to let them know the pot was finished brewing. Kat started to rise but Gustavia insisted, “I’ll pour you a cup, I need to check on breakfast anyway,” and went to pick out a novelty mug with all the coffee in the world won’t make me a morning person printed on it. “Want me to fix you a plate?”

  Kat had that echoing hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach; the one that always followed a night without sleep, maybe some food would ease the clawing ache.

  “Smells good in here, biscuits and something egg based?”

  “Nail on the head. Frittata with mushrooms and peppers.” Gustavia set the coffee down next to Kat’s hand and placed the sugar bowl and creamer nearby knowing that the sound of the dishes making contact with the table would be enough of a guide for Kat to find them easily.

  Then, with one eye on Kat, she bustled around the kitchen grabbing plates and setting food on the table while leaving some in the oven to stay warm for Julie and Tyler.

  Throughout the meal, Kat’s pallor improved, her normally rosy cheeks regaining enough of their color that Gustavia felt it was time to ask.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “While I was dancing with your brother, I got my sight back for a little while.” The words were softly spoken almost apologetic.

  “But that’s great news.” Gustavia couldn’t understand why Kat wasn’t doing cartwheels. Okay, so cartwheels might not be the best idea for a blind woman to be doing in an enclosed space, but dejection instead of elation seemed all kinds of wrong. “Isn’t it?”

  “Did you miss the two main points? Dancing with your brother and for a little while.”

  “Ah, okay. It’s the blue eyes meets brown thing that’s bothering you?”

  “A bit,” came the sarcastic lilt, “I don’t even know Zack so why him? Why now?”

  “Did you talk to Estelle?”

  “Be your own catalyst. That’s what she said. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Gustavia could tell that Kat really just wanted support, not an honest opinion so she made a noncommittal noise and listened to the mild rant.

  “If it happened once, it can happen again.” Kat singsonged in an exaggerated mimic of Estelle’s other piece of advice while Gustavia refilled her mug and tried to stifle a snort of amusement, which she—quite rightly—assumed would not be welcome at the moment.

  “I’ll admit I am surprised at it being my brother, though. You hardly know each other.”

  “I know, don’t you think I thought of that.” Kat’s voice rose, her cheeks pink with a combination of embarrassment and just a modicum of annoyance. “I’m half tempted to try talking you into inviting him here so I can see if it will happen again but that would just be wrong for so many reasons.”

  The coffee mug hit the table with a bang as Kat took out her frustrations with a jerky motion. “So I’ll assume you are not going to ask me to get him to drop by?”

  “Of course I am. That’s the problem, I have to know.”

  This time, Gustavia had no control over the snort. Hearing it, Kat’s expression turned mutinous which did not have the intended effect of quelling Gustavia’s gut response and a giggle escaped, then another.

  Luckily, laughter is infectious and before long, Kat started to chuckle. It helped; some of the tension fell away.

  Chapter Four

  “Psst.”

  The hissing noise came from somewhere to her left and sounded slightly muffled as though whoever was making it had put a hand over their mouth. Something about the voice made her think of Estelle but why would the spirit bother with an attention getting bid when all she had to do was speak directly into Kat’s mind?

  “Who’s there?” Kat asked. She cast her mind back over the past few minutes to see if she remembered hearing anything—footsteps, creaking floor boards, the swish of clothing—to indicate the presence of another person entering the room. Too stealthy for that anyway, no one living in the house would sneak up on her.

  “Psst.”

  There it was again.

  “Estelle? Is that you?”

  “Not Estelle,” came the hissing whisper. Definitely a spirit or maybe it was Amethyst’s angel friend.

  “Galmadriel?”

  “No.” The voice was stronger now.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t see you so please, can you give me a hint?” Sensing fear, Kat kept her voice pitched low and gentle.

  “Mary Lou.”

  Kat recognized the name. Mary Lou had been married to Julius; she was Estelle’s mother-in-law. Had she been here all this time? Why had she waited so long to make contact?

  “Is there something I can do for you? Do you need me to give Julius a message?”

  “Why would I need you for that?” Mary Lou clipped her words. “I’ve got nothing to say to him but can you tell the girl something for me?”

  “You mean Julie? Of course, what is it?” The spirit seemed agitat
ed.

  “Tell her to put that light fixture with the star glass back where she found it.”

  Cryptic words but Kat promised to relay them and immediately felt Mary Lou’s energy settle into a more calm, relaxed vibrational pattern.

  “Thank you. He’s coming He’ll help you see what’s needed.” The whisper faded to a sigh and then to silence before Kat had a chance to ask who was coming but when she heard footsteps in the hall, she no longer needed to ask. It was Zack; she would recognize his stride anywhere.

  Gustavia must have made good on her plan to invite him over. Now that he was here, Kat’s mouth went dry and her stomach dropped toward her toes while what ifs crowded her thinking.

  Instinctively, she turned toward him as he entered the room. He was wearing jeans and black sweater that looked impossibly soft as it clung to his torso and stretched tautly across wide shoulders. His hair was gently mussed as though he had run impatient fingers through it time and again. Kat was overwhelmed with the urge to smooth it back into place. To run her hands through those silky, honey-colored strands.

  Then it hit her, she could see him. Her vision had cleared again and it had happened so subtly, so effortlessly she hadn’t noticed the change while it was happening. Her heart lurched and began to drum against her ribs; her breath quickened as excitement stole the air from her lungs, clamped down on her chest, and turned her knees to jelly.

  Just like before, her body somehow remembered how to see as soon as he came into the room.

  How long would it last this time? A minute, an hour? Forever?

  Please let it last.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Zack started to turn back toward the door. “Gustavia asked me to visit but she’s in writing mode just at the moment.”

  “No, stay. She’ll surface eventually.”

  Kat sat stock still, afraid to move, afraid to lose whatever connection it was with him that somehow triggered her vision but also wary of getting into another argument over the veracity of psychic phenomenon. She searched her mind for any other topic and came up with Logan.