Chapter 21

I sighed as I picked up my cup of green tea. I relished my quiet times alone. To my delight, Mom was at church. She had organized a prayer group to pray against Sharon Anderson’s lust for Phillip Baker. I wondered how that would play out, given that Sharon and Phillip would be present, as would Phillip’s wife, Katherine. I bet Sharon Anderson was sorry she had ever confided in Mom.

Just as I touched the tea to my lips, the doorbell sounded. Mom had asked Terence to install a musical doorbell that played the hymn, Only a Sinner.

I sighed and set down my tea, staring at the wisp of steam that wafted invitingly above it. At least Duncan had taken care of Terence. When Duncan had gone to the church cleaning bee to have a little chat with Terence, he found his pockets crammed with cakes and cutlery, and his car filled with the church silver. Terence wouldn’t be on Mom’s roof again anytime soon.

I was halfway to the door when it rang again. To the words of ‘Boasting excluded, pride I abase,’ I opened the door, to see John Jones standing there.

“Mom’s not here,” I snapped, but as soon as I said the words, I realized he knew only too well that Mom was at church.

He held up a rose that was half-smothered in grocery store cellophane. “Good day, Laurel.”

I put my hands on my hips. “What do you want?”

He frowned, glancing at the flower and back at me expectantly, as if I might somehow have missed it being shoved under my nose. “Your mother said if I gave you flowers, you might go to dinner with me.” He continued to hold out the flower to my face.

This was all too much. “John Jones, I will never go to dinner with you. Go away now, please. Don’t make me get a restraining order on you. It’s getting late and I have to feed the sheep.”

“Sheep?” John shot me an incredulous look. “Well, I should take care of the sheep for you. You should be preparing dinner, while a man works with the animals.”

I took a step closer to him. “Stop right now, John!” I said angrily. “I just want to be left alone. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell I will ever go to dinner with you. All hell would freeze over first!”

As soon as I said the word ‘hell’ the first time, John Jones clamped both hands firmly over his mouth. He carefully laid the rose on the ground, and then backed away, as if he were dealing with a wild animal.

I waited until I was sure he had driven away. No doubt my tea was now cold, so I decided to go and see the sheep. It was time to open the gate onto fresh pasture, anyway.

“Arthur! Martha! First one here gets a treat!” I called as I waved the rose in the air. I had no intention of taking the thing into the house. I opened the gate to the fresh pasture, which was green and lush with new grass. The sheep had already been eyeballing the field for the last couple days. “Arthur! Martha!”

I wondered where they were. They always ran over when they saw me. I’m sure they thought that my sole purpose in life was to feed them at every available opportunity. I finally saw them under the river oaks, and they were not alone. Basil was with them.

Arthur and Martha were butting each other out of the way, vying for Basil’s attention as he patted their heads. The sheep noticed me and came running. Basil laughed as he was promptly abandoned in favor of a woman with a fresh flower.

“Looks like they have a new favorite,” Basil said, a hint of envy in his eyes as he watched the sheep stare up at me expectantly.

“Cupboard love, I’m afraid.” I ripped the petals off the rose and gave shares to each of them. “Sorry guys, that’s all I’ve got today. I’d give you the stem, but I didn’t have a chance to cut off the thorns.”

The sheep looked up at me with disgust. They waddled straight back to Basil, seeking out his hands and sniffing at his pockets to make sure he wasn’t holding out on them.

Basil chuckled. “So you’re buying them flowers now?”

I laughed. “No. Just sharing the overflow when my swarms of suitors shower me with more than I could possibly fit in the house.”

Basil patted Arthur’s back. “Thanks for having Arthur and Martha here.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “ Arthur and Martha are such sweeties, and they keep the paddocks trimmed nicely.”

He grinned. “And dispose of the gifts from your rejected suitors?”

“That too.” I smiled at him. “It could be worse, though. At least he didn’t resort to clubbing me and dragging me back to his cave.”

“That bad?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing a little pepper spray wouldn’t fix.”

At once Basil’s face was filled with concern. “Well, be careful. Please keep on your guard.”

“I’m fine, really.” The pepper spray joke must have been a little too much. “I’m just letting off a little steam. John Jones is extremely annoying—and that’s an understatement—but I’m sure he’s perfectly harmless.”

Basil shook his head and looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I’ve had a feeling lately that you might be in some sort of danger. Look, I realize that sounds crazy.”

I hurried to reassure him. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all. I firmly believe in that sort of thing.”

Basil looked shocked. “You do?”

I nodded. “For sure. There’s a lot out there that we can’t prove. I’m very open-minded about visions, premonitions—you name it. I believe in tarot, all of that stuff.” And I talk to ghosts, I added silently. Not that I could ever tell anybody that one. I’d find myself questioned about what the voices tell me to do, and likely get a pretty pill to make them go away. Not that the stuff would work for my ‘condition’. You can’t medicate a genetic gift of sight. They’d already tried that when I was a young child, thanks to my mother.

Basil rubbed his chin. “That’s good to hear.”

“It is?” I said lamely. I wondered if Tara’s passing theory was correct. Had Basil’s ex-fiancée been fervently against the paranormal, and was that why he was now so wary?

“I’ve had premonitions since I was young.” His voice was hesitant, and he avoided direct eye contact with me. It almost sounded as if he was confessing to doing something wrong. “They’ve always come true. I wish I knew how to explain it without sounding entirely insane.”

“It sounds perfectly normal to me,” I said hurriedly.

“You’re sure?” Basil’s expression was skeptical.

“Absolutely. You’d be surprised.” I thought for a moment and then added, “And a good friend of mine is a witch.”

Basil’s mouth dropped open, and I wondered if I’d gone too far. He stared at me for what seemed like forever, before he spoke. “And you approve?”

“Of course I approve,” I said with a shrug. “Do you have a problem with it?”

Basil shook his head. “Not at all.” He scratched his chin some more. “I’m glad you didn’t react badly to me telling you that I have premonitions. I didn’t want to tell you, but I couldn’t think of another way to convince you to stay careful.”

“Your word is good enough for me. I promise that I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“That’s about all anyone can hope for, I suppose.” Basil reached out and laid his hand gently on my shoulder. A crackle, like a small burst of electricity, ran through me and I jumped. Basil snatched back his hand, whether from feeling the crackle or from my reaction, I couldn’t tell.

Just then his phone rang. “I’m expecting a call from a lawyer. I’ll have to take it if it’s him,” he said, pulling the phone from his pocket. His tone sounded regretful, unless that was just wishful thinking on my part.

He looked at the caller I.D. “Sorry, Laurel; it’s him. I’ve got to take this.”

He answered the phone and hurried away, leaving me staring after him.