He shook his head, his eyes fond, then held his hand out to me. “This should be yours.”
I held my hand for his and he dropped the rose quartz worry stone into my palm.
“Hope is born from ashes. Love yeilds to no other power. Return, Delaney.”
“Is that a vision speaking?”
He chuckled and settled back into his chair. “Always. It’s a gift and a curse. Nothing I say is only my own words. The future, fate if you will, always has a hand in what I do and say.”
“That would drive me mad.”
“Oh, it’s a job hazard, but I get by.” He winked. “Donuts help. So does getting paid to tell people what they should do with their lives for ten hours a day. Cathartic.”
“You know I’m going to go talk to a witch now?”
“I do.”
“Any warnings you want to pass my way?”
He chuckled again. “Just because I can see the most possible futures doesn’t mean I can see them all. Often the unexpected is as much a surprise to me as it is to anyone. Also, we should all have to suffer the joy of free will. It builds character.”
“Now that is more like what I expect to hear out of you. Don’t work too late, Yancy.”
“I’ve been off for an hour. Just thought I’d hang around for the donuts.”
He smiled again and chose a new pastry out of the box.
I tucked the worry stone in my pocket and left my hand there with it. It was still warm from Yancy’s touch, and I hoped maybe a little bit of his magic and wisdom had rubbed off on it.
Jean and Jame waited for me in the lobby.
“That wasn’t what I was hoping for,” Jean said.
“Ben’s alive. We’re going to find him alive within twenty-four hours. That’s good enough for me. Let’s go talk to the witch.”
“I’m not going to let this come down to you making some kind of decision,” Jean said.
“Good. Yes. Fine.” I started toward the door. “Do you think I want to make some kind of final call? No way. I want all hands on deck. That means you, and Myra, and Jame, and every witch, seer, or bowling alley medium we’ve got.”
We walked out of the school and got into the Jeep. Jame folded into the back with a soft grunt. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes again.
I drove down the darkening street. It wasn’t until we hit the main road that Jean spoke.
“Why did you mention Jacques?”
“What?”
“You said witch, seer, and bowling alley medium. Jacques is a medium who owns the bowling alley.”
I could tell her I was just throwing out names, but she’d know I was lying. “After the ghost thing at the lighthouse, I thought visiting Jacques might clear that up.”
“Clear up Harriet pushing that girl’s shoulder?”
I took a deep breath. “I saw Dad there.”
Beat.
“What?”
