Listening for Lucca (23 page)

Later, Sam arrived at the front door.

“Get Lucca,” he suggested.

I gave Sam a hug. Then I yelled down the hallway, “Lucca! Come on! We’re going out!”

First we wandered through the wooded area on the ridges above the water, farther than I had been before. Sam and I took turns giving Lucca piggybacks. During one of his turns, Sam went running along the path, charging ahead, Lucca screaming with laughter as he was jostled up and down.

Then I remembered something.

“Hey, can we make a stop?”

I led the way back past our house and on to Mrs. Lang’s.

“There you are!” she cried when she opened the door. “And Lucca, and …”

“Sam,” all three of us finished.

“Are you …?” Mrs. Lang studied Sam carefully. “Of Nielly’s?”

“Yep!” said Sam.

“Oh, I know Sam Nielly. Who doesn’t? Come in, come in!”

We followed her in.

“You know, I was making a big pasta salad to eat all week, but now that you’ve shown up, I think a meal with company might be nicer. Would you like some?”

We said yes and sat at the kitchen table. She served four bowls of pasta.

“Looks good!” Sam said.

“It does, Mrs. Lang,” I agreed.

“Tastes good, too.” Sam had already dug into his.

“Look,” said Lucca. “I see peas, broccoli, and cheese.”

“Are you going to eat the peas?” I asked.

“Today they are the yummiest.” And Lucca happily popped a couple into his mouth with his fingers.

“I told you,” Mrs. Lang said softly. “All in good time, right?”

“Right.” Then I remembered why I’d wanted to see her. “Mrs. Lang, did you ask your friend Ella Mae about our house?”

“Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you! Ella Mae said that there was a family who lived there, a girl and a boy, back in the thirties and forties, before it became a place for vacationers.”

I nodded.

“And when I told her you thought the house was haunted, she said she didn’t know why that would be. She never heard of anything unusual there. The family went through some tough stuff during the war, but most families did. The children grew up and moved away.”

I thought for a few minutes. Mrs. Lang looked at me; Sam looked at me; even Lucca looked at me.

Then I asked, “Lucca, are there still ghosts in the house?”

He shook his head. And then he said, “No. No more ghosts.”

“I don’t think there ever were,” I realized slowly. “I think it was just feelings, the sadness that was left over. It’s gone now.”

We finished eating and helped with the dishes. Mrs. Lang and I washed them and the boys dried them at the table. Standing at the sink near the windowsill, I looked
over the little plants and treasures there and felt a pang of guilt.

“I took something from you,” I said to Mrs. Lang. “A little cup. I’m sorry. I’ll bring it back.”

She looked confused for a moment; then she remembered. “Oh, that. No matter, really. I haven’t thought of it since. I’m glad you came to visit today.”

We played a game of Memory. Lucca won every round again. Then we left, waving goodbye to Mrs. Lang from the fence.

Back on the beach, Lucca dropped to roll in the sand. Maybe it seemed like playing in the snow, because, again and again, he lay on his back like we’d taught him to do last winter in the park, spreading his arms and legs to shape figures, getting up carefully. “Angels,” he said. “The beach is all filled up with angels.”

“It is,” I agreed. That was our Lucca, Mr. Shining and Bright. “Sam, is it okay if I walk by myself for a little bit?”

“Sure. We’ll play right here.”

I walked until I couldn’t see them anymore, though I would come back soon. I wouldn’t risk getting lost from them.

It was time, like Mom had said, for me just to be Siena. To not worry about Lucca, or how Mom and Dad felt about Lucca. Or to let images and visions and unexpected things unsettle me. Unexpected things could even be good. Like Sam. I hadn’t expected a friend like him.

I could let the visions go for a while, now that I was in
control of them. I couldn’t wait to travel the world and find out what I could see in new places, whose lives I could share. I knew my future also held the past, and all those places and people I would discover were already a part of me and I was of them. But first, it was time just to be myself and think about the things that I was and wanted to be.

I came across a small doll, a soft fabric doll, stained from being left in the water and sand.

I picked her up, turned her over. Where had she come from, and where was she going?

Not with me. I had everything I needed. I would leave her here. She wasn’t going to be lonely. She had the sand and the water, the sun and the other stars, the blue sky of day and the wide dark of night … the whole universe. And she would melt back into it, and that would be okay.

As a little girl, Suzanne LaFleur vacationed in Maine with her family and loved to search for treasures on the beach. She still visits Maine at least once a year. She is also the author of
Love, Aubrey
and
Eight Keys
. Visit her online at
suzannelafleur.com
.