"I heard you," she said. "I heard the song. I know. But Will, not every gift is a blessing. Not every talent should be in the spotlight."
He opened his mouth, that stubborn look telling her she was about to get a Will Truitt – style talkin' to. But then a creepy-crawly sensation slunk down her arms and spine, and a single rap at her window made her jump.
She turned and found a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed woman gazing down a long nose at her.
"You came."
Even with the windows closed, Lindsey heard her. And suddenly she understood what Will meant when he talked about the hairs on his hairs standing up. Lindsey wasn't one to ruminate on mystic essences-having an internal anti-matchmaking barometer was quite enough-but she shivered all the way from her hair follicles out to the edges of her aura.
Will hit a button to roll Lindsey's window down, then swung his own door open and climbed out. "Christ Almighty, Sacha, don't sneak up on people." He walked around the truck and gathered the wispy woman in a tight hug, the bottom of her long flowery dress ruffling in the breeze.
Sacha wrapped her arms around him and visibly squeezed him back. "Look at you. I haven't seen you this content in years."
"Good to be home. Good to see you home."
"And you brought her. Good. We all need her."
Will frowned. He let Sacha go, then opened Lindsey's door. Before he could make introductions, Sacha wrapped her arms around Lindsey and grasped her tightly. "You'll do what needs doing," Sacha whispered. "Be brave. Be bold. Trust yourself. And you'll find the balance you seek."
The atmosphere shrank, the houses and trees and cars and Sacha all closing in around Lindsey. The ground went wobbly, and the pungent odor of old burnt oil assaulted Lindsey's nose. She forced air into her lungs and willed her heart to slow.
"Sacha. Let her go."
Will's quiet order was effective. The woman released her hold, and when she turned her dark gaze on Lindsey this time, the intensity was gone. She continued to study Lindsey while Lindsey studied her. Sacha's face was devoid of makeup, she wore no jewelry, no embellishments anywhere, save a toe ring. Her dark hair hung straight. Her shoulders and elbows were bony and pointed, and the muumuu hid her figure, but her grip was stronger than her figure would've indicated.
Sacha's lips wobbled and her brows knit together. "Having a gift makes for a lonely life," she said. "True friends make all the difference."
It was, and they did. And Lindsey suspected that even Will, having all the complications of being Billy Brenton, couldn't fully understand what the freak factor did to finding those true friends.
Lindsey honestly couldn't fully understand either. She didn't live her talent like Sacha did.
"Aunt Jessie will come around." Will leaned against his truck. He looped one arm around Sacha, grabbed Lindsey's hand with the other. "Donnie doesn't have anything on you, and she'll figure that out soon enough."
"I've fulfilled my destiny here," Sacha said. "It's time I move on."
"Time you stay put," Will said.
"You may have bought my house, but you can't make me stay."
"You might leave, but you'll still be my family," Will shot back. "Appreciate it if you quit ignoring my calls."
Sacha didn't answer. Instead, she eyed Lindsey.
A tremor started deep in Lindsey's bones.
"I should've waited until you came," Sacha said. "Jessie loves him too much to believe me, and now I've broken my own family."
And Aunt Jessie most likely hated Lindsey enough that Lindsey's opinion would carry negative weight.
Sacha was screwed.
"In my experience," Lindsey said, "there's never a good time to tell your friends anything they don't want to hear about their love lives."
"Never?" Sacha said.
Five little letters, carried by a tone that said there were as many reasons as there were stars.
"Will's right," Lindsey said. "You should take his calls. Having a gift can make for a lonely life, especially if you shut your family out."
Sacha pursed her lips, then patted Will's chest. "Come see me before you leave."
"You staying that long?"
"William. Such a question." She pulled away from him with a reluctance that bespoke finality. Lindsey hadn't yet been able to quell her shivers, and they got worse when Sacha's gaze lingered on her. "Fearlessness would suit you. You're hiding your light as sure as you hide your smiles."
She didn't say good-bye but instead turned and floated to the clapboard bungalow next door, her flowered muumuu trailing behind her.
Lindsey turned a baby-eater glare on Will, because it was easier than wondering if Sacha would leave as soon as they were out of sight. "Did you tell everyone what ‘Snow Angel Smiles' is about?"
He rubbed a weary hand over his face. "Didn't have to. You know how hard it is being a teenager with a psychic pseudo-mom?"
Despite everything, there she went, smiling at him all over again, falling harder for this adorable country man.
His answering grin was half-strength. "You wanna go see my old bedroom?"
"Is that a pickup line?"
"Come on inside and you'll find out."
How was a girl supposed to resist an offer like that?
Chapter Nineteen
MUCH AS WILL wanted to show Lindsey his bedroom, Aunt Jessie took priority.
When they pushed into the house, she spun toward them. She was wearing one of his older Billy Brenton T-shirts over pink polyester pants. Her curly hair fanned out in back, her clear blue eyes wide, a flash of disappointment drawing them down before she found her smile. "My Will. You're home."
She'd been staring at her wedding photo on the floral-papered wall. Over the years, Aunt Jessie had had various wedding pictures hanging in that spot. Only thing that changed was the groom. When Will and Mari Belle moved in, it had been one of four pictures on the wall. Aunt Jessie had added more pictures of the three of them as they grew-Aunt Jessie, Will, and Mari Belle. At the beach in Panama City. Catching fish in the Flint River. Standing around Mari Belle with all her awards when she graduated high school.
Last time he'd been here, there had been more.
Because last time he'd been here, half the pictures had had Sacha in them too. Now, instead, there were blank spots on the wall, nonfaded squares that felt like bruises on his heart.
Sacha would leave again while he was here. He knew she would.
But he'd track her down. He wouldn't let her be alone. Wouldn't let her believe she'd lost them all.
He pulled Aunt Jessie into a hug, even though he wanted to shake her. "Missed you at the show."
"You're much better among smaller audiences." She squeezed him hard-harder than Sacha had, and Sacha had near about squeezed the stuffing out of him.
He kissed the top of her head, then let her go and turned to Lindsey, who was wearing a mix of her serious lawyer lady mask and undisguised sympathy. Those sharp eyes of hers had made a quick sweep of the room, and he had a notion she knew it was all wrong.
"Aunt Jessie, meet Lindsey. She's been helping me write songs."
"Lovely to meet you," Lindsey said.
The two of them watched each other for a minute. Lindsey's calm and relaxed act was almost convincing, but Aunt Jessie eyed her like she would an alligator.
"Got any sweet tea?" Will said to Aunt Jessie. Because any Southern woman worth her salt offered the alligators sweet tea too.
Aunt Jessie huffed. "What kind of a question is that, young man?"
He grinned at her. "Lindsey here ain't ever been south of the Mason-Dixon line before. Dadgum shame, don't you think?"
"Actually, I've been to Disney World," Lindsey said.
"Oh, honey, bless your heart," Aunt Jessie said. "Disney World ain't south. Y'all didn't happen to see Donnie's car in town when you came in, did you?"
"Can't say we did," Will said. "You want a glass, Aunt Jessie?"
"No, thank you, honey."
"Mikey's in town too today. Thought we could have him over. Fry up some chicken and okra. Make some cornbread."
Aunt Jessie moved to the window, pushed the gauzy curtain out of the way and peered at the road. "Sure, sure. Y'all go on in and see what I got in the fridge."
"Thinking about catching an armadillo too," Will said. "Add some fried butterflies on the side."
Lindsey choked on air, but Aunt Jessie nodded again. "Sounds good, hon."
"Aunt Jessie."
She turned. Her mouth wobbled and she blinked quickly, but Southern steel shone through.
She'd never had as much steel as Mari Belle, but she didn't let that stop her.
"Don't you go judging me." Her voice cracked. "You bring her into my house, and you want to tell me I'm wrong to pick love?"
Will held his hands up. "Not judging. I'm worried."
"I'm sixty-two years old. It's high time I took charge of my own life, and I don't take kindly to people telling me who is and isn't good for me."