"Del's?"

Jessie shook her head. "Ceara mentioned him, remember? The donut shop down the street? You need to get out more. You or Dad want anything while I'm there?"

"When will you be back?"

"Soon. I know there's flooring that needs to come out of three B, *

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and I'll be back to help Dad out with that. I promise."

"Jess . . . about last night . . ."

"Let it go, Mom, really. Just give me the blank slate we came here for, and let's call it a day."

"I'm trying."

"So am I. I'll be right back." Jamming down the stairs, Jessie quickly made her way down Morning Glory Drive and into Del's Donuts.

Del walked over to her and poured her a cup of coffee in a new mug that had the stars and the moon on one side and an oak tree on the other. Her own name was painted down the handle of the mug. "I'm afraid to tell you this, Jessie, but this makes you a regular now."

Jessie stared at the hand-painted mug before looking up at Del.

"Where'd you get this?"

"Beats me. Showed up here yesterday. My guess is that Tanner's taken a liking to you." Del walked back behind the counter and pushed a cinnamon roll into the microwave, leaving Jessie to admire the artwork of the mug. By the looks of it, this was not from Tanner.

This mug felt more like Ceara.

When the microwave dinged and Del brought the cinnamon roll over, Jessie cleared her throat and asked, "Del, you pretty much know just about everyone in town, don't you?"

"Anyone worth knowing, sure."

"You know a little druggie named Chris?"

Del paused long enough to give away his answer. "Same kid's been hanging out with your little brother?"

Jessie nodded. "Yep."

"He causin' trouble?"

Jessie shook her head. "Not after this morning, he won't be. Where does he hang out?"

"He and the kids like to hang out at the pier-you know, watch the boats come in and see the fish all gutted and cut up for steaks."

"What time do they roll in?"

Del looked at the wall clock. "Near nine. Just about the time you finish your second cup."

Jessie stabbed her cinnamon roll and slid over to the center of *

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the booth so she could watch the town unfold from its sleepiness.

Del returned to behind the counter, leaving her to her thoughts. She enjoyed her quiet time in the coffee shop, away from circular saws, jigsaws and paint fumes. Of course, a month ago, if someone had told her she was going to become a regular at a coffee shop, she would have laughed in their faces. But here she was at eight something in the morning, drinking the best coffee in town, eating the best cinnamon roll she had ever had, and waiting to scare the c.r.a.p out some little boy.

Life was looking up.

"Mind if I give you some advice?"

"Be my guest."

"You and your folks came to town, and the next thing we know, you're hanging out with the two characters who are the most talked about. Now, I've got nothin' against Ceara or Tanner-as a matter of fact, they're both nice as can be, but folks in a small town like this do an awful lot of talking, and they see things one way and one way only.

You follow me?"

"Guilt by a.s.sociation."

Del nodded. "Yup. Wish it weren't so, but that's the lay of the land.

You can fight it or accept it, but that's life in a small town. So long as you hang out with them, folks are going to talk about it and that talk will eventually reach your folks if it hasn't already."

"Talk is cheap, Del, and so are the opinions of those gossip mongers."

Del grinned. "I had a daughter just like you a while back, and she nearly drove me insane. I'll bet you enjoy making your parents nuts."

Jessie smiled. "I try my best. I just see it as part of my job."

"Well, take it from a man who's been around the block. People's perceptions are their reality, no matter how much kids your age like to believe you don't care what anyone thinks, the fact is, some day, you'll realize we all have to care at some time or another."

"I'll take that under advis.e.m.e.nt. Anything else?"

"Yeah. No matter what anyone tells you, Ceara is not some crazy old lady. She's a quality person, and if she's chosen to befriend you, *

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then you're a lucky gal. Just know that people will talk. But then, people will always talk."

"Thanks, Del." Jessie looked out the window and saw three of the boys who had been hanging out with Daniel. "I'll be right back," she said, scooting out of the booth. When she was outside, she called out to the boys to see which one would answer. "Hey Chris!"

A lanky brunet turned around as she jogged up to the group.

"You're Danny's sister."

Jessie looked over at the other two boys and jerked her head toward the pier. "I have some business with Chris, so beat it for a sec, will ya?" The two boys took off toward the pier, never even looking back.

"Daniel told me about the conversation you two had the other day."

Jessie fought to keep the anger from her voice.

"Yeah. So?" Jamming his hands in his pockets, Chris tried for indifference, but was far too affected.

Jessie stepped closer to him so that she towered over him. "I have an instant message for you and your buddies. If you ever go near my little brother again, I'll kick your a.s.s so hard, you'll be a hunchback."

"Wha-?"

Grabbing his sweatshirt so he couldn't run, she pulled him to her face. "Don't screw with me, little boy, because I'm crazy. Living and dying are all the same to me, so taking your sorry a.s.s to h.e.l.l with me is no skin off my nose. And if you think I'm playing around here, then you're dumber than you look. Stay the h.e.l.l away from my brother."

Chris's eyes bugged, but he managed a nod.

"Repeat what I said, you little creep, so we're very clear what's gonna happen if you mess around with my brother."

"You-you'll kick my a.s.s so hard, I'll be a hunchback."

Jessie released him. "Don't forget it, either, because I'm not bluffing.

I'll take you out like that." Jessie snapped her fingers for emphasis. The moment she did, a wave of warm washed over her and she no longer stood near the pier on the Oregon coast, but next to a dock on an ancient island watching a man dressed as a soldier fall to the ground holding his bleeding back. In her hands, she held the b.l.o.o.d.y dagger that punctured his back, sending him to an early, yet well-deserved *

116 *117.

grave. Looking across the fallen soldier, she saw Maeve, who had been grabbed by the dying soldier as he struggled to hang onto his life.

"Are you injured?"

Maeve shook her head. Her eyes held no fear-only sadness-a great, great sadness. "Your brother taught you well. Come with me now. We cannot stay here."

"But the fight-"

And suddenly, Jessie was back at the pier, sans dagger, without Maeve, without Roman soldiers. Without . . .

Roman?

Shaking her head, Jessie looked up and saw that Chris had rejoined his friends. "Remember what I said!" she yelled. "Crazy!"

As the boys ran away from her, Jessie walked back to Del's on wobbly legs, feeling as if maybe she'd just spoken the truth.

Suddenly, she wasn't so sure she'd been bluffing at all.

Jessie couldn't finish her coffee or her cinnamon roll. All she could do was sit there and stare at the place she stood when she saw something-no, when she felt something from Cate's past. The fight- she could feel that memory even now, like the aftertaste of blood after spitting into the bowl at the dentist's office. She could also taste the fear, the incredible fear that he was going to hurt Maeve.

He had wanted to kill her. He would have, too.

But it appeared Cate won that round.

Staring into her now lukewarm coffee, Jessie wondered aloud.

"Who were you, Maeve, and why was that soldier after you?" Pushing her cinnamon roll to the edge of the table, Jessie checked her watch.

She needed to get back to the inn, but she had to get her wind back.

That vision, or whatever it was, had swept the strength from her legs, and she'd practically collapsed when she got back to the booth.

Inhaling several deep breaths, she steadied herself. She, or Cate, rather, had killed a man. She had stabbed him in the back because she feared he would hurt Maeve-or worse. That fear clung to Jessie now like thistles on her pant legs.

118 *119.

"You gave Chris quite a tongue-lashing."

Glancing up at Del, Jessie shrugged. "I don't care about much, but my little brother means the world to me, and anyone who does anything to try to hurt her, will meet the sharp end of my sword."

The look on Del's face was one of amused confusion. "Her?"

Jessie felt like Del looked. "I meant him, of course."

"Well, I wouldn't want to tick you off, Jessie, especially if you're carrying a sword."

When Del walked away, Jessie stared out the window for a little while longer, wondering what was happening to her. Would she become totally confused about which reality was hers, or was this just a remnant slapping her head to remind her of Cate and what needed to be done? There was only one thing she knew for certain: It was time to see Ceara.

"See you tomorrow, Del," Jessie said, rising. Five minutes later, she was sitting at the table in the center of Ceara's parlor, replaying what had happened to her when she was out by the pier. When she finished, Ceara patted the hands she'd kept folded up on the table to keep from trembling. "You just sit tight while I go make us some tea.

And Jessie?"

"Yes?"

"Try not to be afraid. Nothing can hurt you."

Jessie breathed deeply, leaning back in the large overstuffed chair that matched the one Ceara had just vacated. The parlor looked like something from a movie set. It was far too dark to see much more than directly in front of you; there were incense burners everywhere, most with burning incense in them, and there were bookcases filled with worn leather-bound books. On one of the shelves were crystals, metallic and stone objects, and several worn tarot sets that had "gypsy"

written all over it. The only thing missing was a- "Crystal ball?" Ceara asked, as she returned to her chair. "I discovered a long time ago that people have certain perceptions we must honor if we are ever to truly communicate with each other. When I first opened up, this place was painted light yellow, the window shades were open, and I wore regular clothing. Needless to say, it did not work very well. I *

118 *119.

made changes based on perceptions, and ever since then, I've managed quite well."

Jessie blushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't really mean-"

Ceara waved her off, as was her manner. "Don't be silly. See? You have the same idea of what you think a tarot reader's s.p.a.ce should look like. My business quadrupled once I redecorated the room according to what people wanted to see when they walked in here. You can fight some preconceived notions all you want, but there are others that are so ingrained, it's best to just live with them." Ceara rose when the teakettle blew. "But listen to me chattering on. When I return, we'll discuss your vision."

This was now a part of her memory bank, as if Cate had made a deposit Jessie now had to live with. It felt no different than the memory of Jill Britton falling off her bike when they were eight, and cutting her leg open. No different than smoking cigars before the junior prom. Etched into her memory like those she had actually lived, Cate's memories were now every bit as real.

Returning to the table with two steaming cups of cinnamon tea, Ceara set one in front of Jessie. "I figured this would go well with your cinnamon roll."

Jessie's head jerked up. "How did you-"

Ceara chuckled. "Oh, honey, it's nothing as romantic as my powers.