Oh, God. Did Derek somehow guess that she'd kissed Lucas? Could her emotions give that much away? Kylie didn't know. But neither did she want to ask.
So she lay back on the rock and looked up at the trees. The sound of the nearby waterfal s seemed to stir in the trees. Her mind went to the legend for a second, but then Derek's nearness was a much more intriguing thing to think about. They didn't talk. Derek shifted his arm closer until the back of his hand brushed up against hers. That little touch sent tingles coursing through her body.
"Your mom coming tomorrow?" she asked.
"Of course. She never turns down an opportunity to embarrass me."
Kylie giggled, remembering how Derek had blushed when his mom had straightened his hair. "She loves you."
"She treats me like I'm three." He paused. "Your mom or dad coming?"
"Both," Kylie said. "Or so they say." Her dad had lied once. "Did you know the world might end if they accidental y have to be in the same room together?"
"Is that what's got you so stressed?"
"Some of it."
He turned his arm over, slipped his hand into hers, and offered her a gentle squeeze. "I care about you. I don't like seeing you upset." His warm hold on her hand tightened again. He'd promised to behave, but she supposed he didn't see holding hands as misbehaving. She wasn't sure she could cal it that, either. She did know it felt good-sort of like a hug. His palm felt warm, not unnatural y warm, but just one person reaching out to another. "I care about you, too."
"Good," he said, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice. They didn't talk for the next few minutes, and then he asked, "Is the ghost another part of what's stressing you out?"
"Yup." Feeling safe with him, she told him about the dream she'd had of the ghost, and how she thought the ghost wanted her to help exonerate him of a war crime he didn't commit.
Derek listened as she rambled. Realizing she'd done most of the talking, she asked, "Do you stil want to turn your back on your gift of communicating with the animals?"
"Yes. I'm getting real y good at tuning them out. Holiday says if I keep this up, soon I won't even notice them. Of course, she says that as if it's a bad thing." He paused. "What about you? You stil want to kick your gift back?"
The fact that Kylie had to stop and think about her answer left her a little surprised. "It scares me," Kylie said. "I don't think I'm brave enough to do it. But since the dream, I just keep thinking about the soldier. How brave he was. He knew when he went back to save the woman that he wouldn't live through it. I wish I knew his name so I could find out if he was accused of doing something he didn't do. And if he was, then I want to find a way to make it right." She closed her eyes for a second. "But you know what's weird?"
"What?" Derek's fingers wiggled in her hers.
"Every time I see him, he looks familiar. Like I know him from somewhere."
"Maybe you do."
"Maybe," Kylie said. "But I've even asked my mom if we had anyone in our family who ever served in the military and she said no."
Derek shifted beside her. "Did Holiday say how a ghost picks the person they attach themselves to?"
"She said it could be al kinds of ways. I could have passed by somewhere his spirit was, or it could be personal."
Derek raised his arm to check his watch. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but our hour was up thirty minutes ago."
"That is bad news." She closed her eyes. "Derek?"
"Yes."
"Thank you."
"For what?" he asked.
"For everything." She rol ed over and looked at him. And heaven help her, but she wanted to kiss him so bad she could scream. And if the look in his eyes was any indication, she wasn't the only one wanting.
He moved in just an inch. She could feel his breath on the corner of her mouth. He was so close, she could count his lashes, but it was his lips that tempted her.
"Kylie." The way he said her name made her melt a little more.
"Yes," she managed.
"You're making it hard for me to keep my promise."
"I'm sorry." She almost kissed him then. Almost. But knowing it wouldn't be fair to him, or herself, she didn't do it. Not yet.
The next morning Kylie sat with her mom and watched her check her watch for the tenth time. Kylie couldn't help but wonder if her mom hated being with Kylie so much, or if it was the thought of her dad showing up that made her mom so eager to leave. Probably both.
"I'm so glad it's working out here," her mom said, straightening her tan suit jacket. The color did nothing for her olive complexion and dark hair. It only enhanced what looked to be dark circles under her eyes.
"Your friends seem nice, too." Her mom glanced over to Del a and her parents at the table in front of them. Kylie had introduced her to both Miranda and Del a when she arrived. Her mom leaned in. "The hair is a bit much on that one girl. But if you tel me she's not too wild, or doing drugs or anything, I guess I have to believe you."
"She's not wild, Mom," Kylie muttered. Silence fol owed, and Kylie knew what it would be like living with her mom, dealing with her mom's prejudices and awkward silences. Kylie could feel the chil from across the table. Not a ghostly chil , either. Or was it?
Kylie shifted her gaze across the room and saw him standing in the corner, staring, crying more tears of blood. Her heart gripped and Kylie real y wished she knew his name so she could help him.
"Are you sure we don't have any family in the military?" Kylie asked her mom again.
"Positive, dear." She looked at her watch again. "Your camp leader-what's her name? Holiday? She seems nice, too."
"Holiday is nice," Kylie said, remembering how she'd exchanged glances with Holiday after she'd met her mom and seeing the camp leader shake her head no, as if to say, her mom wasn't supernatural.
"Okay, I guess I should go," her mom said. "Do you want to walk me to my car?"
Kylie spied the clock on the wal . Her mom was leaving thirty minutes early. So much for mother/daughter quality time.
"Of course." Kylie got up. As they passed Del a and Miranda with their parents, Kylie realized neither of them seemed particularly happy. Tonight's table chat, a nightly ritual, was going to be more like a whine session.
Kylie and her mom walked to the parking lot without talking. Thankful y, the ghost didn't join them. When her mom turned around to say her final good-byes, she reached out and gave Kylie's arm a squeeze.
Kylie's chest tightened as the memory of needing a hug at Nana's funeral came barreling back at her.
"You know, some moms hug their kids."
Shock crossed her mom's face. "Do you need me to hug you?"
"No," Kylie said. Who wanted a hug you had to ask for? It was like having to ask for an apology.
"Bye, Mom." Kylie turned around and went back to the dining hal to wait for her dad. She didn't look back and watch her mom drive away, even though she knew her mom would be waving and expecting Kylie to do the same. From now on, no hugs equaled no farewel waves.
Kylie almost didn't recognize him. First, where was the touch of gray lining his temples? Second, his hair was not natural y two-toned. And for sure, he didn't wear it in a spike cut. She wasn't even going to talk about the clothes he wore. Old men should never, ever wear tight jeans.
"Is that him?" Holiday asked.
Kylie wished she could lie and run out the back door, but her dad spotted her across the room and started over to her.
"Is he a supernatural?" Kylie asked, fighting the embarrassment and looking back at Holiday's twitching brows.
"No." She let out a big sigh. "But that doesn't mean-"
"I know," Kylie interrupted.
"How's my pumpkin?" Her dad pul ed her into a tight hug.
Kylie closed her eyes and tried to forget how he looked and just let herself soak up the comfort of having his loving arms around her. Tears fil ed her eyes and she swal owed hard, praying she could contain them.
"I'm okay," she muttered, and pul ed back. Her sinuses stung, but the tears didn't fal .
"Is this one of your friends?" her father asked, motioning to Holiday.
Kylie looked at Holiday's camp-leader badge and wondered if her dad's dye job had fried his eyesight.
"I wish." Holiday held out her hand. "I'm Holiday Brandon, one of the camp leaders."
"You're kidding me," her dad said. "You can't be a day over twenty. And you don't look like any camp leader I've ever seen." His smile widened and his gaze shifted down Holiday's shapely form.
"No kidding." Holiday eased her hand from her dad's.
Kylie gawked at the man who had been her rock, who had been there through skinned knees, mom arguments, and even boy problems. The reality rol ed over her like a dump truck. Her father was flirting. With Holiday. Holiday who was ... wel , at least fifteen years younger than her dad.
"What happened to the gray in your hair, Dad?" Kylie blurted out.
Her dad looked back at her. "I ... I don't know."
"Wel , excuse me," Holiday said, and Kylie could swear she saw a smile appear in the woman's eyes. "I'l let you two visit."
Or not, Kylie thought. She didn't know this man, and she wasn't al that sure she wanted to get to know him, either.
"He wasn't like that before," Kylie said a little over an hour later, stil fighting the urge to cry. Kylie's dad had stayed less than an hour. Holiday, as if sensing Kylie was upset, asked her to go with her on a run into town to buy some supplies.
"Divorce is hard on people," Holiday said. "Trust me, when my parents divorced, they went total y bonkers, too. Mom even got breast implants and started borrowing my clothes."
"How did you survive?" Kylie asked.
"You just do. Of course, large ice cream consumption helps." Holiday smiled as she pul ed into the ice cream shop parking lot. "What do you say?
Wanna feed our worries with creamy, sweet, cold stuff?"
Kylie nodded.
Holiday reached for the door. "Fol ow my lead. First we have to sample at least five flavors each, then we order a triple scoop."
Kylie laughed. "What worries are you feeding?"
"Are you kidding? Do you know how many hours I've been stuck with Mr. Big, Bad Vampire?"
"Burnett," Kylie said, understanding. "Why don't you just say yes?"
"Yes? Oh, no. Over my dead fairy body. He's as irritating, rude, and obnoxious as he is ... hot."
"So you're in love, huh?" Kylie teased.
Holiday pointed a finger at her. "Keep this up, and you won't get any ice cream."
As Kylie and Holiday fed their faces with everything from chocolate mint to banana chocolate fudge, Kylie, hyped up on sugar, let a question slip that she normal y wouldn't ask. "How do you know you're in love?"
Holiday licked her spoon clean of her cotton candy-flavored ice cream. "You don't ask easy questions, do you?"
Kylie spooned up a bite of butter pecan. "Nope."
Holiday studied her ice cream. "I've thought I've been in love several times. A few times with my heart and even more times with my hormones."
Holiday's answer described Kylie's situation with Lucas and Derek perfectly. Kylie spooned up a bite of ice cream. "And none of those worked out?"
"Nope. That's the tricky thing about love. It walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and smel s like a duck. But after you sleep with it a month or so, or get dumped at the altar by it, it starts smel ing more like a skunk."
Kylie leaned forward to ask. "Is this your fancy-dancy way of tel ing me I shouldn't sleep around?"
Holiday pointed her spoon at Kylie. "Nope, it's my fancy-dancy way of saying you gotta be careful." She leaned in. "Just because a guy rings your bel , doesn't mean you have to toot his horn."
Kylie laughed and so did Holiday.
Holiday stirred her ice cream. "If I could go back, I wouldn't have slept with three of the guys I did. But you can't go back. And the memories. Bad, bad memories are tattooed on my brain." She tapped her spoon against her forehead. "You can't even get them lasered off."
Kylie nodded. She had a few bad memories of her own that she couldn't shake, so she total y related. When they finished their ice cream, they walked next door to the used bookstore. Kylie happened to catch the title of a book that had been left on a shelf. Overcoming Dyslexia. Picking up the book, she flipped through it and wondered if Miranda had ever read it. She walked over to the counter and asked if they had any other books on this subject. The lady took her to a whole section of books about different disabilities. Kylie selected three more on coping with dyslexia and paid for them. Holiday was stil browsing, so Kylie stepped outside and took in the smal town's main street. It was quaint. Antique stores, specialty shops, and even a candy store-the kind of place her parents used to drag her to when she was a kid.
A couple walked past holding hands and Kylie tried to remember if, on any of those trips, her mom and dad had ever acted like they were in love. She couldn't recal ever seeing them holding hands. They always did their own things when they were out. Her dad played golf. Her mom shopped. Kylie had just moved over to Holiday's van when she spotted another couple step out of the bed-and-breakfast. They were kissing. Not the quick, touch of lips kind of kissing, but tongues moving in and out of each other's mouth like they were in heat or something. The kissing quickly progressed to the butt-grabbing stage. Find a room, Kylie thought, wondering if they knew they had an audience or if they even cared. Ahh, but wrong or right, Kylie couldn't look away.
Mostly because alarm bel s were sounding in her brain.
There was something familiar about them.
She watched the woman's hands slip into the front of the man's jeans. Kylie's mouth dropped open. Gross. That was so lewd, yet Kylie, now hiding behind the van, stil couldn't turn away. When the couple final y parted mouths and the guy turned forward, recognition hit. Kylie gripped the side of the van, her knees suddenly feeling like jel y.
"Oh, my God."