Rebecca's Quest, page 4
part #8 of Finding Magic Series Series
“With luck, I won’t lay eyes on either of you again,” he said to the air around him. At this point, supervising Rebecca’s final test—too important to allow any faculty to administer—was Russell’s top priority. He had designed her test, and it had to proceed according to the rules the Elders required. No room for errors or mistakes.
He sensed his house of cards would either crumble spectacularly or pave the way for a spectacular family existence. Everything depended on Rebecca now. He could not control where or what she chose to manifest. She was in charge of her destiny now, and her destinations. Only her Magic would make them so.
Her Magic was strong, but the Elders decreed she had to discover the nature and the power of it herself. More to the point, Becky had to use her Magic to save herself first. Only then could she save the others.
Russell stretched his neck and legs as he scanned the rooftop for prying creatures. Finding none, he yawned and disappeared.
Chapter 6
One of her favorite dreams always began with Becky smelling her mom’s meat loaf. No way she’d mistake that heavenly scent. Meat loaf was one of Becky’s favorite things—with mashed potatoes and gravy. And those little raised yeast rolls with the butter in them. The meal finished with cherry pie and vanilla ice cream…yum.
Nothing better on earth, really. That’s what Dad said every time Mom served the meal at their old oak kitchen table.
Some of her best dreams unfolded around that table, too.
She and Paul and Brent had played outside all day. Paul’s parents arrived from next door with Julia offering her best sweet potato casserole, Alex carrying two bottles of wine.
An unexpected noise reached her ears. Her dad’s truck pulled into the driveway. The garage door opened when he pushed the button. The big engine’s growl stopped, and a few moments later the truck’s door slammed.
This dream felt different from her usual. The aromas were stronger. The kitchen’s warmth cozier. The sounds louder.
Becky slowly opened her eyes at that point in the dream, as she often did, hoping to glimpse everything she’d dreamed about.
This time, her eyes widened to the size of teacups.
She gasped.
What was before her was no dream. Everything around her was astonishingly real.
A moment ago, she’d been pushed off the rooftop of Gray Cliffs Academy and was hurtling toward the bottom of the vast mountain ravine, fifteen thousand feet below.
Now, she actually smelled meat loaf baking in the oven and, with her feet firmly on the ground, waited for her dad to come through the back door.
How can this be?
She blinked several times, rapidly. Each time she opened her eyes, she was bewildered to find the same things. Exactly the same.
Her palm felt heated so she pulled her hand from her pocket. A heavy round object the size of a silver dollar warmed her palm. She opened her hand to examine the amulet she held. She’d seen similar ones before, but couldn’t recall where.
This one was round in shape. The Gray Cliffs Academy crest sat atop its pewter bezel, which encircled a polished cabochon stone.
The dense stone was like none she’d ever seen before. It glowed like a thousand summer campfires on the beach though the stone wasn’t on fire…
Dad had explained the colors of a campfire while they roasted marshmallows on a stick to make s’mores. Orange flames from sodium. Blue from carbon. Violet from hydrogen. All captured in the firewood by nature and released by the fire’s heat. Could a similar thing be at play in a stone?
Becky narrowed her eyes and peered closer. What is this thing? Where did it come from? How did it land in my pocket? Did it have anything to do with bringing me here?
Her dad walked into the kitchen from the garage. He hung his keys and his Tigers cap on the hook by the door. “What ’cha got there, Sweet Pea?”
Becky looked up and blinked again. Was this another vision caused by the stress of her fall? No, it really was him this time. Or at least, she believed it was. She half rose to run toward him and then hesitated, unsure.
He looked years younger than the last time she saw him. He had a younger man’s spring in his step and a gleaming twinkle in his eye. His face lacked the deep lines of grief he’d worn when she’d seen him in person four years ago. White dashes at the corners of his eyes, caused by a lifetime of working in the sunlit cherry orchards, made him look constantly surprised.
He seemed to have sprouted a lot more of the straight brown hair he’d passed down to her. Now his hair was long enough to cover his ears and shaggier than she’d ever seen him wear it.
So different was her dad’s appearance, she might not have recognized him if he weren’t in his own kitchen.
A charge of disbelief shot all the way from Becky’s toes up her spine and through her scalp. Realization came swiftly—her father looked just like her brother Brent had before he passed.
Becky hadn’t seen her brother for five long years. Not since he left for Camp Pendleton after his basic training. The day he died.
But she remembered perfectly how Brent looked that last time. Precisely like her father looked right now. In that moment, her dad and Brent might be the same person.
She shook her head fast and blinked again. No. That wasn’t possible.
Was it?
The warmth of the amulet in her palm reminded her of the kind of forces she’d once imagined would sweep her into a magical life. She had been a child then. She didn’t believe in Magic anymore. But the amulet comforted her anyway. She closed her fist over the glowing stone and stuffed her hand into her pocket.
The man she was almost sure was her dad made his way further into the kitchen.
Tears sprang to Becky’s eyes. Her lip quivered with emotion. It was so good to see him in person after such a long time. She’d missed her parents most of all while she’d been in exile at Gray Cliffs. For that was really how she’d felt. As if her time away at boarding school had been forced rather than voluntary.
She smiled and stood to hug her dad as soon as he came close enough. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked.
He didn’t seem to hear her. Or see her. Or notice her at all.
But he’d called her Sweet Pea just a moment ago.
He walked straight past her. Becky followed him with her eyes. Which was when she saw her mom standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes, facing the window that overlooked the cheerful back garden she loved. Soapy bubbles rose to her elbows.
“How’s my Sweet Pea today?” Dad put his arms around Mom’s waist and hugged her from behind, nuzzling her neck like one of the horses nuzzled Becky sometimes.
Mom giggled. “Jake, stop tickling me.”
“Or what?” He nuzzled her again, and she whipped around and flicked a fistful of soap bubbles toward him. He laughed. She squealed.
Becky cocked her head and frowned. They were acting like children. What’s wrong with them? They never seemed so young and playful when she was growing up. At least, not that she remembered.
Soapy water splashed all over the counter and onto the floor. “Now see what you’ve done?” Mom’s words were cross, but her tone was still light and teasing.
Dad laughed again before he kissed her and turned toward the back of the house. “I’ll get changed. How long before dinner? I’m really hungry.”
“So what else is new?” Mom turned and threw a kitchen towel at him, which he caught easily and plopped down on the counter.
Becky noticed that Mom looked younger, too. And happier than she’d been in a long time.
“That’s because you’re such a good cook,” Dad said on his way to take a shower.
When he’d left the room, Becky cleared her throat. “Hi, Mom.”
When she spoke, Becky seemed to become visible to her mother.
The laughter on Olivia Martin’s lips died instantly. She gasped, and a hand flew to her throat. Fear flashed in her eyes, which turned her tone whip-sharp, as sometimes happened when she was afraid for her family. She snapped, “What are you doing here, Rebecca?”
Becky flinched as if she’d been slapped. She squeezed the warm round amulet tighter in her hand, surprised by how much it comforted her. “I-I’m not quite sure how I got here, actually. Why are you angry with me?”
Mom struggled with the fear and seemed to wrestle it under control. When she managed to speak again, her tone softened. “I’m not angry, honey. You startled me is all. I wasn’t expecting you.”
She leaned against the counter and folded her arms across her waist. A worried frown darkened her pretty features.
Becky nodded past the lump in her throat. She longed to run to her mother and hug her tight enough to take her breath away. “I-I wasn’t planning to come. I’d have called if I knew ahead of time.”
“You’re graduating soon. You have finals first.” Mom seemed as bewildered as Becky felt at first, but the more she talked, the less frightened she appeared to be. “We’ve all worked too hard and sacrificed too much to make this happen for you, Becky. Go back to Gray Cliffs. Apologize to Hettie and Grotel. Finish your job there. Then you can come home, if you choose to.”
“Who’s worked hard? To make what happen for me?” Becky had no idea what Mom was talking about. Confusion clouded her thinking. She didn’t know what to say. “But I-I’m a student. I’m not even eighteen. Not yet. I don’t have a job, Mom.”
“You do, though. Your job is to learn everything you need to know at Gray Cliffs. Train for your purpose. Graduate. You knew that when we sent you out there.” Livy used the back of her hand to brush a strand of hair from her face, as if she were very weary.
“I already know what my purpose is. It’s to stay here. Live on the farm. Help Dad with the cherries. The farm will be mine one day. It’s time I learned what I need to know, isn’t it?” Becky heard the childish pouting in her own voice and took a deep breath to steady herself.
“You need to be prepared. Your future is assured, no matter what you decide. Gray Cliffs is your ticket to everything good in the world.” Livy swiped a hand through her hair. “You can’t quit now. Go back. Before it’s too late.”
“Mom, you’re confusing me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Becky kept her voice as calm as she could, considering the dancing flip-flop in her stomach. “I didn’t leave by choice. I was forced out…and what future? What am I too late for?”
Chapter 7
Jake Martin returned to the kitchen in a clean cotton shirt and a pair of jeans, looking even more like Becky’s brother. Why hadn’t she noticed the striking similarities before? Was it because dad looked thirty years younger than when she’d last seen him. To her, that thirty years made a significant difference. Thirty years was more than Becky’s entire lifetime.
He seemed to notice Becky for the first time. He’d been born and raised in Traverse City and consideration for others was in his DNA like honesty, integrity, and the rest of his Midwestern values. He put a smile on his face and extended his right hand in greeting. But then he looked at his calloused palm and drew it back. “I’m Jake Martin. Have we met?” he asked her.
She decided to play along.
“Becky. I’ve been gone from the area for a long time.” She gave him a friendly smile when she replied, because it would have been rude not to. The blank look on his face made her add a tentative, “But you know who I am, right?”
He stared at her a moment and then, as if the question were too much for him, he fell back into his usual friendly politeness. “I’m terrible with names and faces. I’m sorry.”
Becky’s grin felt as wobbly as her knees. “That’s okay.”
He nodded his head and smiled again. “I’ll leave you two alone to chat. Call me when you’re ready for dinner, Livy. I’ll be watching the Tigers game until Alex and Julia get here.”
“Sounds good,” Livy replied.
“Nice to meet you, Becky.” He left without a backward glance.
She watched him go, more confused than ever. Her own father seemed not to know who she was…she must be hallucinating or something. Because her dad would never forget her. Not for a moment. Not in four years or even a million years.
Becky plopped down in the chair. A tear fell from her eye, and she swiped it away with her finger. She labored to breathe without sobbing.
“Honey, you know your dad loves you more than life itself. Don’t feel like that,” Mom said gently from her position at the sink. “Your appearance is just...surprising, is all. But you shouldn’t even be here. Go back to Gray Cliffs. Do what you need to do. Then come here. Like we planned. Everything will be fine.”
“I-I hate it there, Mom. Gray Cliffs is an awful place.” Becky’s chest hurt with unshed tears. “I never should have applied for that scholarship. Don’t make me go back there. I want to come home.”
“You’re not a child anymore, Becky. You’ll be eighteen soon. You’re so close to graduating. It’s foolish to quit now. You’ll never have this chance again.”
“I don’t care. I can be a cherry farmer.” The incredulous stare coming her way made Becky rush on. “It’s been good enough for you. You’ve been happy with Dad. I know you have. And you and I are so much alike. Everyone always says that.”
“But you know none of the important things about my choices, Becky,” Mom said, quietly.
“Tell me, then. I want to know.”
“You’re a young woman now. You have to make your own way in life. We’ll always be here, honey.” She touched her heart and swept the room with her arm. But you are destined for other things.” Livy closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. She cleared her throat. “My life was my destiny. It’s not the same as yours.”
Becky wagged her head, resisting still. She hated Gray Cliffs. Hated everything about it. Now that she was free of that place, she’d never go back. Nothing would make her change her mind. Nothing.
“I’m your mother. I love you. You’ve always trusted me to give you my best advice. Do this for me. Go back. After you graduate, if you still feel the same way, we will talk again.”
When Becky didn’t move, Livy sighed. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you, honey. You can’t really believe I would.”
Becky’s resolve began to fade as she looked into her mother’s pleading eyes. Mom had always been right there for Becky, every step of her life. For Brent, too. And Dad. Mom had devoted her entire life to making them all happy.
Yet this felt different all the way down to Becky’s bones. She couldn’t say why, exactly. But she knew her life would never be the same, based on this one choice. That right here. Right now. Mom was right about that much, for sure.
Can I go back? No. But if I could, why would I even try?
Livy came closer and knelt down to gaze into Becky’s eyes, but when Becky reached out to touch her, Livy flinched away.
“Your new life, the future you were born for, will begin when you turn eighteen, Becky. But only if you make it back to Gray Cliffs and do what you still need to do there. None of us can change things for you if you don’t go back.”
“Change what things?” Becky’s hurt feelings combined with her confusion and fear. This was not the homecoming she’d visualized at all. Not even close. The warm amulet in her pocket was her only solace.
“It won’t be easy to get back. Figure it out while still you can. Go fast. Get back before they notice you’re missing. Hurry!” Livy somehow gave her a little push, without actually touching her. Then she stood and returned to lean against the sink, where she folded her arms across her chest.
“No.” Becky drew a ragged breath, shaking her head wildly, like the child she no longer wanted to be. “And how would I even go back there? There’s only one bus that arrives and departs every year after graduation. The rest of the time, the place is so isolated not even birds can find it. I can’t just close my eyes and teleport back, or something.”
Her mom didn’t reply, so Becky kept talking. “And they don’t want me back, either. They’ve never wanted me there. I don’t belong with those people.”
Mom still said nothing.
Becky had almost run out of steam. She lowered her gaze a moment before she said, “It’s not like I ran away, Mom. I was pushed out. Literally.”
“That’s how it works, honey. Like the new robins in the orchards leaving the nest every spring. You’ve seen it many times. They get pushed out and they fly. You need to learn to fly on your own, too, Becky. And fly right back to Gray Cliffs. No matter what it takes. Don’t dawdle. You can’t be late for your exams.” Livy stood and moved to check her meat loaf in the oven, as if she’d said all she wanted to say.
Becky stayed a while longer, basking in the warmth of home. God, she’d missed all of this normal stuff. She inhaled the delicious aroma of meat loaf almost ready, still in the oven. She heard the legendary Ernie Harwell, shouting baseball commentary on the TV in the living room, excited about another Tiger grand slam to score four more runs.
Ernie Harwell? He’d died in 2010…
She looked closer at the kitchen. This room was like her home, but not exactly. The appliances were white instead of black. The floor was vinyl instead of maple hardwood. Those curtains at the kitchen window were old-fashioned dotted-Swiss fabric.
That’s what was odd. The whole room looked like a movie set for one of those old sitcoms running on a continuous loop in the Gray Cliffs’ laundry room.
Maybe she was dreaming after all. Otherwise, she’d somehow awakened in an earlier time. From the look of things, she guessed this was at least thirty years ago.
She glanced at the cork board on the wall near the garage door. The calendar everyone used to jot down appointments and events was pinned there, as it always had been. Becky squinted, but she couldn’t read it from where she stood.
She walked closer. She didn’t believe what she saw. “Mom, what year is it?”
“You know what year it is, Becky,” Livy said, wearily.
