(A/N: This chapter has taken me a little longer to complete than I had hoped, but hopefully its fairly long length makes up somewhat for the delay. My spring semester classes have at last started up, so while I will continue to write whenever I have the time, updates may become rather erratic.)
"Did the annulment go alright?" Ivy asked as David handed her a cup of tea. Some part of her raged at the disappointment of her now thoroughly ruined scheme that she had planned so meticulously, but she just couldn't make herself go through with it anymore.
"Yes, it's done now," David replied, cringing a little as he remembered the whole embarrassing episode, with Grace practically begging him to tell her that he loved her. "No more phony marriage."
Ivy smiled, though she wasn't sure how she really felt about this. "Good, I guess. I'm so sorry that I put you through all of this in the first place. I know that you've really fallen in love with Grace, so it must have been really hard on you."
"Not as difficult as I would've thought," David answered before thinking. Then, to distract Ivy from the awkward question she was no doubt forming, he quickly added, "At least, it couldn't compare to anything you're going through, with everything that you're dealing with. It must be absolutely awful," he said sympathetically.
"Horrible," Ivy conceded. "It's so confusing. But I can't focus on myself right now. Kay's in trouble."
"There's something wrong with her?" David asked politely, though privately he agreed that there was something very wrong with that girl.
Ivy nodded soberly. "I'm absolutely sure of it. Sometimes I look at her and it's like she's some horrible monster. It's horrible, I know, to talk like this about your own child, but I can't help feeling it. Something's being done to her, but I just don't know what. I know this sounds crazy…" she laughed a little, but there was no joy in her demeanor.
David shook his head, showing support for her. "Hey, after what happened to you, your nineteen-year-old self being transported into the present, and by a spell Kay herself cast, I don't think that sounds crazy at all."
"Oh God," Ivy muttered, "what a mess. But no matter what, I can't let her know a thing. If she catches on, everything will be ruined."
"What do you mean, 'ruined'?"
"She's being influenced, I know it. I do believe that she listens to me, though. I have to try to influence her myself, get her to come to her senses, but without actually preaching to her. With her personality, if she thinks she's being lectured at, she'll close up and stop listening."
Tactfully, David held his tongue. He wanted to warn her to be careful, for he neither liked Kay nor trusted her for a second. In his opinion, the girl was as volatile as a landmine, ready to go off without warning at the slightest provocation. True, she did have at least one redeeming quality in her admittedly genuine love for her mother, but he couldn't help but believe that it was the sort of affection that could so easily be transformed into a hateful violence. However, he simply could not try to discourage her from at least attempting to make a difference. If nothing else, he knew that he would just be wasting his breath. As a parent himself, he knew that nothing he could say would shake her resolution. He would have, and in fact to a great extent already had, sacrificed virtually anything for John, and what desperate lengths he would go to if his son was in the same mess as Kay he could only imagine.
"I hope your plan works," he finally said to her.
Ivy took a sip of the tea, allowing the drink to work its calming magic on her. She had been trying to kick her addiction to painkillers, and the withdrawal she was still suffering from had left her feeling constantly jittery. The tea managed to soothe her edgy nerves a little, though it remained a constant struggle. "I hope so too," she sighed. "God, how I hope so. Despite everything, I love Kay, though I doubt many people will ever believe me. Not that I deserve to be believed, of course. After how I lived my life, hell, I wouldn't believe me if I was in another person's shoes. I've led an evil life, David; I can see that now. But if I can just keep the same thing from happening from her, I'll…" she trailed off, searching for just the right words to articulate her thought.
"Then maybe, in a small way, it'll be like you've redeemed yourself?" David finished for her.
Ivy nodded soberly. "That's it, I guess. Does it make any sense?"
"I understand it completely," he affirmed, thinking that this endeavor might be extraordinarily beneficial for her psyche: it would prevent her from focusing on her own crisis, and would give her a tangible purpose to strive towards.
"For Heaven's sake, when and how did everything get so screwed up?" she wondered, her voice beginning to choke up, until she glanced down at her wristwatch and realized what the time actually was. "Oh great," she exclaimed, not sounding terribly enthused. "I'd better get going. It's almost time for me to have a little 'talk' with Alistair."
"You have a meeting? About what?"
"I have absolutely no idea," Ivy commented as she gingerly set her cup and saucer down. "But questioning that man too much when he wants something is never a good idea. He probably wants me out of this house, so I don't 'tarnish the Crane name' any more than I already have. I'd better be careful about how I go about this."
David looked at her, concerned. "What do you mean? You don't think it's safe?"
"Oh, don't worry about me. I'll be alright. It's just that it's always important not to lose your temper with Alistair, and to try to address him on his own terms. When he's insistent about something, you'd better go along with him as far as you possibly can, and not challenge him every step of the way. I don't think he'll go as far as actually ordering me out, though, so I'll be okay." With that, Ivy rolled out of the room, feeling reasonably prepared for whatever the Crane patriarch might try and throw at her.
*****
"Okay, so why exactly is it a bad idea to cast a Nosferitia on a vampire?" Kay asked in response to a warning that her ancestor had just given her. "Does it not work or something?"
"Oh, it works," Cassandra assured her. "Most of the time, at any rate. One can never be totally sure. The thing is, Nosferitia is meant to be used by vampires against other creatures, not against other vampires. It clashes with the other vampire's own magic, and the backlash can be dangerous, even deadly, to the spell caster. I certainly wouldn't recommend it, unless you had absolutely no other choice. "
"Good, I'll remember that," Kay murmured as she gazed deep into the eyes of a rat, leaving it in a motionless stupor just as she had seen Cassandra do before. Without any visible emotion, she uttered the fatal words, and felt the now familiar thrill as the small creature's life force left its body and flowed into hers.
"Very good," Cassandra said, "you've mastered mesmerization in a remarkably short time. "I think that's quite enough for today. So, how is your mother's situation? Any change?"
"No, not really," Kay replied nonchalantly, though Cassandra could easily tell that the girl was trying her best to hide a sizable portion of guilt. "Theresa can talk all she wants, but I'm pretty sure that there's nothing she can actually do to either of us."
"I should say not," Cassandra agreed readily. "You're the Heir, and if you want your mother to be protected, then there's nothing that that upstart can do about it. I must say, the relationship that you've developed with Ivy Winthrop Crane is one of the most remarkable I've seen in three-and-a-half centuries of observing human behavior."
Kay cocked an eyebrow inquisitively in Cassandra's direction. "What do you mean?"
Cassandra absently straightened a shelf on one of the bookcases with a studied nonchalance, her back turned to Kay. "Oh, just that, for a woman who is known far and wide for two primary character traits, a complete and utter ruthlessness when it comes to pursuing something that she wants, and a notorious disregard for all of her children other than Ethan, to so totally embrace and bond with a daughter who just showed up out of nowhere, and without any apparent ulterior motive, it's no less than miraculous."
Kay squared her shoulders ever so slightly, feeling defensive and yet lacking anything in the vampire's speech to latch firmly onto as an attack or challenge. "She's not at all like what most people think of her. She's really misunderstood."
"She certainly must be. After all, for a woman at her stage of life to undergo a complete change of heart, for no obvious reason whatsoever, it would force me to totally reevaluate everything I have come to know about human nature. You are incredibly fortunate, Kay."
"Yeah, I guess I am," Kay asserted with a forced confidence, though she felt the first sickening hints of uncertainty, which she had kept suppressed since her argument with Laura on the night of the party, begin to take a hold of her. This insecurity began to work on the dark recesses that her training with Cassandra had opened up within her soul, and for a brief instant Kay was overcome with a violent anger, until the still-rational part of her brain dismissed such worries as sheer nonsense.
Suddenly, Cassandra turned away from the bookcase and turned to face Kay. "Oh, how silly of me, I almost forgot: Alistair told me that he wishes to speak with you as soon as we've finished down here."
Kay rolled her eyes. "Oh, great, I suppose he's going to go over a bunch of boring, pointless stuff with me, just so he can pretend that he's actually in charge of something around here."
"I've no doubt. Still, there's no harm in humoring the man, and it is important for you to learn something of the straight business side of Crane operations, for which he'll either take you on himself or hire a tutor."
"I guess you're right," Kay admitted. Snickering a little, she added, "and besides, it's always fun to let him know in really subtle ways that I'm the one with the power now. I'd probably better go now. See you later."
In a fairly cheerful mood Kay began the task of making her way out of the labyrinthine set of passageways, not knowing that Cassandra stood watching her as she departed, serenely smiling a cryptic smile.
*****
Surreptitiously exiting the opening of the secret passageway, Kay calmly strolled across the hallway to Alistair's study, and had actually gripped the doorknob in her right hand, ready to enter, when she was stopped by the sounds of two voices emanating from within the room.
Hmm, that's odd, Kay mused. Alistair must have forgotten that he had scheduled to appointments at the same time. That doesn't seem at all like something he would do. He must be getting old and senile. Smiling, she took that as a sign that her eventual ascension as the head of the Crane Empire (and so much more) could not be too far in the future. Still, she thought, her mind bringing itself back to the issue at hand, I wonder who he's talking to, or what this is all about. Curiosity instantly getting the better of any discretion she may have had, she pressed her ear to the door, eager to hear what was going on.
To her surprise, Kay heard her mother's voice addressing her grandfather. "I know you didn't call me up here just to make small talk, Alistair, so why don't we get to the point? What do you want with me?"
Alistair's voice chuckled softly. "You never were one to mince words, Ivy. Not even when it would have been in your best interests to be a little less blunt. If you must insist, though, I'll tell you: after all the trouble you've caused, I think that it's high time you've left the mansion."
Oh, he wouldn't dare! Kay thought viciously. She knew perfectly well that he wasn't the one really calling the shots, and that he couldn't do something like this without the approval of her or Cassandra.
"You're going to try and throw me out," Ivy responded. Kay could detect a hint of nervousness in her voice.
"Not exactly. As long as Kay wants you here, I'll let you stay if you insist. But really, Ivy, apart from her, nobody of any import wants you here, and I don't see why you would insist upon staying, considering how you've considered this place to be a prison for so many years."
"I have every reason for staying here, Alistair. My daughter, my family—"
"Oh come now, Ivy. There's no use using this sort of rhetoric on me. I am neither young enough nor naïve enough to buy into it. You certainly can't deny that this is not the family you wanted."
"Well, no, if you put it that way, but—"
"And you must admit that, had you had a choice, the only child you would have even had would have been your bastard Ethan. And of all your children, it seems logical that you would have the least feeling for your youngest. At the best of times, you've barely done more than neglect them anyway. Do you refute any of this?"
"No," her mother's voice said quietly. "I don't."
Kay bit her tongue, violently fighting back the urge to call out and give herself away. Surely her mother couldn't have meant what it sounded like she did. She was just misunderstanding her words. And what did her grandfather mean by his comment that "of all the children," she should feel the least for her. Was it just that she was new to the family, or was there something else?
With a slight sigh of satisfaction, Alistair continued. "Now that we've unmasked any 'motherly' concerns for what they really are, let's get to the real reason you're staying: money. Come on, don't bother denying it. It's no secret that you've been contesting the divorce, trying to get you claws on whatever you could of the estate. Well, I'm prepared to offer you a deal: promise to leave quietly, and you will be paid $15 million, cash, and deeded one of the Crane summer homes. You've always been fond of the cottage on Martha's Vineyard, haven't you?"
"Absolutely not!" Ivy's voice spat back. "You can't buy me off that easily." Kay felt gratified for a second, until her grandfather answered her.
"Be reasonable, Ivy. This isn't the time to get greedy. I know that you think that you'll get a much larger piece of the pie, since Kay has been named my heir, and the two of you enjoy such a 'close, loving' relationship. But really, now, your favored position lasts only as long as she views you in a positive, and how long do you think it will be before she turns against you?"
"That's never going to happen." Although Ivy's voice remained level, it clearly contained a rising anger, threatening to break out onto the surface at any moment.
"Oh, really? The girl's bright enough to figure you out sooner or later. Everyone knows what you really want, and just how much you're capable of doing to get what you want. The only reason she hasn't started suspecting you yet is that she's so affection-starved and desperate to believe that someone cares about her that she's willing to buy almost any line you feed her. Eventually, though, she'll catch on, and then, I won't have to give you anything, so you'd be wise to consider my offer now."
"She's not going to 'catch on,' Alistair, because I'm going to make damn sure that she doesn't suspect me even for a second. Not ever."
Unable to bear any more of this incriminating evidence against her mother, Kay fled from the doorway, hot tears burning her face.
*****
If Kay had stayed just a moment longer, she would have heard all of her fears put to rest, for Ivy had finally had enough of Alistair's accusations. "Look here," she seethed, looking him straight in the eye. "God knows I've made more mistakes than I can ever make up for, but I'm not putting on an act right now. I know you're incapable of understanding this, but I love my daughter, and this isn't about how much money and status I can get from her!"
"It isn't?" Alistair flinched inwardly, thinking to himself that he had pushed the conversation too far, too fast. It didn't matter, though; from the slight scuffling noise he had heard a moment ago, he could accurately surmise that Kay was no longer listening, and he had accomplished his objective.
"NO!" Ivy shouted, and if she wasn't trapped in her wheelchair, she would have jumped right up to scream in his face. "I know the Cranes have something planned for her, are trying to do something, or get her to do something, or something like that. Rest assured: as long as I'm alive, you're not going to get your way with her. I'll make sure of it." As soon as she had stopped ranting, however, and the realization of what she had just said had sunk in, her heart stopped in her chest, and her breath choked in her throat. She knew perfectly well what Alistair was capable of, and how people who dared to openly cross him like this had a nasty habit of vanishing into thin air. How could she be so stupid?!
As if to confirm her worst fears, Alistair smiled. Ivy had always thought that there was something demonic about her ex-father-in-law's face, and this pseudo-congenial grin only exaggerated the effect. "I'd be more careful about what I say and do if I were you, Ivy. It's really not terribly bright. Luckily for you, though, I happen to be in a fairly good mood, so I'll let your little indiscretion slide. This time. For the time being, if you insist, you may continue to live on the manor, but this may not be the wisest, or safest, path for you in the long run."
Ivy gulped, understanding full well that she was putting her life on the line by remaining in the house. As wracked with guilt and misery as she'd been lately, she still had a fierce survival instinct, and certainly did not want to risk her life. It didn't matter, though; she knew, instinctually, and without knowing how exactly, that Kay was in great danger, from herself or from some external force or both, and Ivy would protect her, no matter what, as long as she had a single breath left in her body.
*****
Hearing the sound of hurried footsteps long before the figure of a distraught-looking girl running purposefully towards her became visible in the entrance to the lair, Cassandra decided with a smug satisfaction that Alistair must have come through on his end with flying colors. Kay was right on schedule, too. Any sooner, and the girl would have caught her in the middle of doing some "editing" on what constituted the critical portion of the plan. "Why, Kay, whatever is the matter? I didn't expect to see you again today. Has Alistair sent you down for something?"
Kay glared at her ancestor, her reddened eyes no more than one step away from suggesting an outright threat. "Is there a way to know? For sure? How somebody else really feels?"
Cassandra inched over towards the girl, her body language conveying a careful concern. "Why do you ask? What's wrong?"
Kay mopped up her tears with her left shirtsleeve, and tried her level best to stop sniffling. "I need to know for sure whether or not my mother really loves me, or if she's just using me to hold onto the Crane name."
The vampire held a hand up to her mouth in surprise. "You surely don't mean that you found something out, about—"
Kay cut her off impatiently. "Yeah, I did. I overheard her talking to my grandfather, and the things she said…well, let's just say it didn't sound good."
"Oh, Kay, I'm so sorry. You must be so hurt," Cassandra clucked sympathetically.
"Can the crocodile tears for now; you might not need them. What I heard was bad, but I might have just misunderstood some or all of it, but I just have to know either way. You must have a way to find that sort of thing out, with everything you seem to know about everybody here."
Cassandra took a step back, uncertainty written on her face. "I don't know, Kay. There is a way to spy on her and see what she will not tell you, but I have to warn you, sometimes the truth is better left buried."
Kay stood her ground, unwilling to be swayed by some sort of weak warning about 'painful truth.' "It's always better to know," she insisted. "I've had enough people lying to me and pretending to care already, and I'll be damned if I get taken in by it ever again."
Cassandra sighed, and motioned for Kay to follow her to a far, dimly lit corner of the cavern. "If you insist, but you may soon be sorry that you ever asked me. If it's true then you'll be crushed, and if it's not then you'll feel horrible that you actually stooped to spying on your mother. However, I can see that you're determined to do this, so I will help you."
When they had reached the corner, Kay saw that in it stood a table concealed by a gorgeous, rich, black satin covering. Cassandra ceremoniously pulled the cloth away to reveal a shard of crystal, about the size of a large serving tray, one side of which was smooth and clear, and in which Kay's reflection stared back at her, sharper and clearer than any mirror she had ever looked into. The rest of the crystal sparkled, its seemingly millions of little faces each glittering, despite the relatively tiny amount of light available for them to reflect, with an incandescent light that, though brilliant, did not hurt her eyes even in the slightest. To her senses, the entire object practically hummed with a considerable magical aura.
"What is that?" Kay asked, gaping at the magnificent crystal with an admiring awe.
"This," Cassandra explained, once again adopting the now familiar tone of a teacher, "is a Cryssallis. It functions somewhat along the lines of its more familiar cousin, the crystal ball, but this is a far more accurate, and more versatile, piece of equipment. With a crystal ball, one can ask vague questions about the future, and hopefully see something in it resembling an answer, or possibly no more even than a clue to that answer. With one of these, one can inquire about specific matters about the past or present, though the future tends to be ultimately unreliable, and it will show an answer with remarkable precision."
"Wow, cool." Kay continued to stare appreciatively. "Why would anyone even bother with a crystal ball, if they could have one of these instead?"
"Because, in most cases, they couldn't. Cryssalles are extremely hard to come by, and incredibly expensive even if one can manage to track one down. Even I am very fortunate to have one, and it has proven absolutely invaluable to me over the years."
"Makes sense." Kay forced herself to stop admiring the beauty that the apparently infinite beams of light all dancing together on the crystal's surface continually produced; after all, there was a much more important issue at the moment. "Okay, how do we use this thing?"
"I'll ask the question; it knows me, and will listen to my voice. Don't say anything until you've seen and heard enough, because a human voice will cause it to 'disconnect,' so to speak." She focused her attention on the crystal, and intoned, "O Cryssallis, display before us the last time Ivy Winthrop Crane discussed her daughter Kay with anyone other than Kay or Alistair."
The mirror side of the crystal flashed a milky white for a second, and then dissolved into a view screen, showing Ivy and David engaged in a conversation. Periodically, the transmission seemed to jump a little, but the basic gist of it went like this:
Ivy nodded soberly. "That's it, I guess. Does it make any sense?"
"I understand it completely," David said to Ivy, eyeing her sympathetically. "It must be absolutely awful."
"Horrible," Ivy replied. "Sometimes I look at her and it's like she's some horrible monster. Oh God, what a mess. But no matter what, I can't let her know a thing. If she catches on, everything will be ruined."
David looked at Ivy seriously. "I hope your plan works."
Ivy sipped her tea calmly. "I hope so too," she sighed. "God, how I hope so—"
"TURN IT OFF!" Kay screamed, and the surface of the crystal instantaneously reverted back to a mirror. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, the words reverberated perpetually in her mind, as she began to hyperventilate. There was no way that she could mistake what she had just seen and heard: her mother was plotting, and with David, of all people, to use her, and she didn't even like her! Her mother put on a great act, but in reality looked at her with nothing more than disgust. The sobs came fast and loose as Kay clutched at her chest, trying her very best not to collapse right there on Cassandra's floor.
"I was afraid of this," Cassandra murmured, professionally keeping any hint of triumph out of her mannerism. "I didn't want to be the one to say it, but it was the only logical explanation."
Kay looked pale and sick, as if she had just been kicked in the stomach. "That's it, then," she stated emotionlessly, her voice inaudible to any but Cassandra's ultra-sensitive ears. "There's nobody, not a single person in this whole damn world who actually cares. I'm all alone."
"Yes, you are," Cassandra agreed, waiting until Kay was focusing on her again to continue. "It's one of the sacrifices that comes along with being my Heir. I'm sorry that you had to learn it the hard way, but now you know that you can never have any sort of real human connection. It may seem horrible now, but do not despair, for although you are alone, there are certain other 'compensations.' You will have the means, and the opportunities, after all, to punish all who have wronged you, who have treated you as worthless, or, at best, as a commodity, however you see fit."
Once again wiping the tears from her eyes, Kay looked at her ancestor with a fresh perspective. The rage had not gone away; rather, it had metamorphosed from a debilitating pain into something which felt productive, useful, almost…enjoyable. "You're right, Cassandra. As soon as I get the chance, I'm going to make that bitch pay for what she's done to me."
*****
Later that night, and far away from the Raven Hill mansion, two morose figures sat at a kitchen table, a tray of Martimmies placed at an equal distance from each one.
Draining a glass in one gulp, Timmy sat back in his chair. "Timmy can't believe that his sweet Charity is really getting married tomorrow. Timmy always thought that she would fall in love with him someday, and forget about Miguel. But now that will never happen."
"Yes, that must be very difficult for you," Tabitha muttered in between sips, deciding for the moment to humor her little lad.
"Yeah," Timmy replied, looking glum, but then perking up a little. "But Timmy wants Charity to be happy more than anything, and if Charity really loves Miguel, and if marrying him makes her happy, well then, Timmy's happy too." Timmy stuck his chin out bravely in a stoic pose.
Tabitha scoffed; sometimes, Timmy was just too much, even for her. "Well, Timmy may be happy, but very soon, Timmy's going to be very dead."
Timmy stared blankly at his princess. "Timmy doesn't understand."
The witch threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Now there's a shocker! Think, lad, if you haven't already had too many Martimmies for higher-level brain activity. I'll spell it out for you if I must: Charity marries Miguel. They make love. She comes into her full powers. With those powers, she destroys all the evil in Harmony, which means that it's curtains for the two of us."
After grabbing another Martimmy glass, Timmy sat back and laughed effortlessly. "Is that all Timmy's princess is worried about?"
"Isn't that enough?! I've run out of ideas to postpone the wedding, my powers haven't returned enough for me to stop it with witchcraft, and our friends in the basement suddenly don't seem too concerned. Most likely, they've decided to leave Cassandra to the evil-mongering in this town and have resolved to pull out, leaving us trapped here as a punishment for failing so many times! I'd say our situation here is very dire!"
Timmy remained unphased. "It would be, if Charity's powers were really going to destroy Timmy and Tabby, but Timmy doesn't think that they will."
Tabitha sighed. "I must admit, Tim Tim; you might be right. You might very well be spared, seeing as how the forces of goodness have taken a shining to you for playing the hero in their little drama. However, and don't think for a second that I'm not grateful that you might make it, but that still leaves me in a bit of a spot."
The boy just smiled knowingly. "Tabby isn't going to die any more than Timmy is. You're not evil, Princess; you just think you are."
Despite the serious nature of her dilemma, Tabitha burst out into an uproarious laughter. "Now I know that you've had one too many Martimmies! I've been working for the Dark Forces for thousa—, er, I mean, hundreds of years! I've been the cause of more chaos, pain, and destruction than you could wrap your little brain around. Saying I'm not evil is like saying that NBC doesn't have a knockout primetime line-up!"
Timmy thought for a second. "You're right that NBC has the best TV shows, but Timmy's right about you not being evil. Timmy knows that you've worked for evil and done it's bidding, but Timmy also knows better than everyone that his Princess has a good heart that she's just been keeping hidden. You even saved Charity so that Timmy wouldn't die. God will see what's really in your heart, and you'll be spared so that you can become good." Timmy made this pronouncement with the complete and utter conviction of one who was only explaining an undeniable truth.
Tabitha leaned forward in her chair, wobbling a little under the influence of Timmy's intoxicating elixir. "You really do live in your own little word, don't you? Yes, I saved Charity, and I love you, but that doesn't mean that I'm not still rotten to the core, thank you very much. No, Timmy, I'm afraid that this wedding has sealed my fate."
*****
At the Bennett House, preparations for the fateful event had gotten well under way. Grace was dashing about like a madwoman, obsessing over every detail for her Charity's wedding, while putting the finishing touches on the wedding dress and baking the tomato soup wedding cake. Charity, forbidden by Grace from pitching in, as this was to be her "special day," eventually gave up protesting and sat in the living room with Miguel, ever mindful of the clock, as she just could not let her future husband see her on their wedding day. Miguel was getting somewhat anxious; when he was finally forced to leave, he'd have to go to the new Lopez-Fitzgerald house, but, since he had never actually set foot in his new home, he was not sure if he could find his way there all by himself. John ran various errands for his "mother," until Grace became worried that he would overexert himself, and sent him off to the Bed and Breakfast for a good long rest. Sam, on the other hand, was not so fortunate; Grace had him running around left and right, getting this and finding that and picking up some last-minute whatever. Because of the upcoming wedding, he didn't want to argue with his wife, but he was determined that, as soon as things settled down to a somewhat normal rhythm, the two of them would have a good long talk and set a few things straight.
Laura and Jessica, meanwhile, were engaged up in their room, trying on their bridesmaid dresses. Laura, for her part, briefly wondered just where the dresses had come from, but then decided that they probably originated from the same place that the rest of the diverse formalwear that the Bennetts seemed to wear at regular intervals did.
"How do I look?" Jessica asked, twirling in place in front of a full-length mirror.
"Perfect," Laura replied, "lavender really is your color." Then, smiling confidentially, she added, "And yes, I'm sure that Reese will love it."
Jessica beamed. "I hope so. You know, I think he's just about ready to ask me out now!"
"What did I tell you? Looking like that, I bet he'll ask you out at the wedding. You'll certainly be better off than me, anyhow. This shade really doesn't flatter my complexion at all."
"I think you look perfectly fine," their mother butted in, sticking her head in the doorway to see how the preparations there were going. Entering the room, she shot Laura a pointed look. "After all, you're not the one who's getting married tomorrow."
"No, I'm certainly not," she replied carefully, hoping to avoid yet another confrontation over her non-existent designs on Miguel. "And yes, I agree that the bride should be the standout on her wedding day, Mother."
Grace didn't look too sure, but decided to let it drop, for the moment, and began rambling on about the various little catastrophes that she had been averting and the chores that still remained. "…oh, and Sam should be back any minute from dropping a bridesmaid dress off at the Russells for Simone. We never did get through to Kay, but her people said that she was just too busy to make it. Tabitha and her nephew said they couldn't make it to the church for the wedding, but will try to be at the reception. Pilar's a little upset, since she had hoped that Miguel's brothers would be found in time for the wedding, but I told her that Charity was really firm about the wedding being held as soon as possible…"
About halfway through the monologue, Laura stopped listening, at first out of boredom, but then a strange sensation suddenly overtook her. She felt extraordinarily dizzy, her mother's voice became muffled, as if coming from a great distance, and her entire field of vision blacked out, to be filled by a rapidly changing series of highly disturbing images. Her head ached badly, but what really shook her was the overpowering sense of fear and danger that she was experiencing.
In hardly any chronological time at all, it was over, and she found herself collapsed on her bed, Grace and Jessica bent over her prostrate form.
"Laura, please, say something!" her sister pleaded, obviously extremely worried.
Grace, to her credit, also looked fairly concerned. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"Aunt Sheridan…boat…blast…" she began moaning before she could stop herself. When she realized that her response was being greeted with blank stares, the truth of what happened finally sunk in. Oh, this is just great, she thought sarcastically, highly irritated as well as alarmed. I can't believe it. I'm turning into one of them!
"I had a premonition!" she exclaimed, even more surprised to hear herself say those words than either of the other two. "Aunt Sheridan, and some other people, they were in a boat of some kind, and they seemed really afraid, and then there was some kind of energy blast, and everything went all white!" she blurted out, horrified by what she now knew she had just seen. Back when she had thought that she was a Crane, Sheridan had been one of the very few relatives whom she had actually liked, and she had been far more upset to learn of her 'death' at sea than when she had received news of Julian's 'murder.' They had never had a chance to get very close, due to their age differences and to the fact that by the time Sheridan had really been allowed to come home, Laura had already been shipped off to school, but they always got along whenever they did meet. Sheridan was also the only former family member, other than Ivy, who had even bothered to visit her when she had been in the hospital after her car accident. Laura had been worried ever since it became apparent that she had gone missing, and now, based on what she had just seen, Laura was now even more anxious.
Jessica believed her at once, and immediately started fretting, though Grace now eyed her daughter skeptically. "I wonder…" she grumbled under her breath.
She wasn't too soft for her daughters to hear, though. Laura had a good idea what this was all about and stayed quiet in order to avoid a scene, but Jessica, to whom Laura had avoided telling all but the vaguest outline of this conflict, was puzzled. "What do you mean, Mom?"
"I'd like to believe that you really just had a premonition, Laura, but I can't help wondering if you faked it as part of a complicated scheme to postpone the wedding."
Jessica just stood there, not believing what she had heard, but Laura had seen it coming. In fact, despite her indignation, she felt a perverse desire to laugh. "Believe me, there's no way in hell that I'd say I had a vision if it wasn't true, since I'm not exactly thrilled about it. The last thing I want is to end up shrieking and moaning about evil forces to anybody who will listen."
"I don't know about that," Grace maintained, her suspicion increasing by the minute. "I told you once that these powers tend to run in the family, and now you just get one for the first time, the night before Charity marries Miguel. It's all just a little too convenient for me."
"And just how could my getting a premonition possibly postpone the wedding?" Laura asked, genuinely curious as to just what her reasoning might conceivably be.
Although Grace did not have an answer, she remained unshaken in her conviction. "You tell me."
"Tell you what?" Sam asked innocuously, ducking into the room for a second after returning from the Russell home.
Before either of the two combatants had a chance to speak, Jessica piped up. "Laura had a premonition, Dad, only Mom doesn't believe her and says she's just trying to break up Miguel and Charity," she stated frankly, still shocked that her mother was acting this way. At least with Kay, she had been right, but this was just ridiculous!
Sam, concerned, immediately rushed over to Laura. "Oh my God, are you okay? What did you see?"
Laura replied that she was fine, just a little disoriented by the experience, and explained her vision to her vision to her father. "Wherever Sheridan and the others are, I have the feeling that they're going to be in terrible danger very soon."
After living for years with not just one, but two women who insisted that they periodically received visions, Sam had learned to keep an open mind about this sort of thing, but he nevertheless felt the need to at least look for a reasonable explanation. "You said that you saw Sheridan, and a boat and an explosion?"
"Not necessarily an explosion. A blast of some sort, but it could have been something else."
"Still, it sounds a lot like the boating accident that Sheridan was reported dead in last year. Is it possible that you were imagining what that must have been like? She was your aunt, after all."
Laura looked at Sam doubtfully. "I guess it's possible—"
"Ha!" Grace broke in, startling everybody, a glint of triumph clearly visible in her eyes. "See, she's quick to change her story, now that she knows I'm onto her!"
Sam stared at his wife as if he was seeing her for the first time. "Grace, what the hell is wrong with you?! How could you even think something like that?!"
Grace was about to shoot back with some acidic reply, but Laura couldn't take this anymore. No matter how hard she tried to avoid causing a conflict, it just wasn't working. "Look, I don't want everyone to yell and fight with each other because of me. Clearly, this whole household would be a hell of a lot better off if I just wasn't here. I'll go away. I'll call up some of my old friends; I'm sure one of them will take me in."
"No!" Jessica cried, glaring directly at her mother for perhaps the first time in her life. "If Laura goes, then so do I! She hasn't done anything to deserve to be treated this way."
Sam, trying to be a peacemaker, made an attempt to diffuse this volatile situation. "Calm down, both of you. Nobody's going anywhere. Nobody in this house wants you to leave. Do they, Grace?" Sam turned to his wife, looking her meaningfully in the eye.
For a brief second, Grace was struck with the thought of how safe Charity and Miguel's love would finally be with people like Kay and Laura far away. However, she eventually remembered that, as a mother, she really should not feel this way about her own child. Besides, she could tell by the looks that Sam (and even Jessica!) was giving her, that if she did not speak in Laura's favor, she would find herself with even more problems. "Of course I don't want you to move out, Laura," she finally said. "You're my daughter. I just want some assurance that you'll stop trying to break up Miguel and Charity."
Laura began to wonder if there was anything she, or anybody else, could ever possibly say to change her mother's mind. "Look, I have absolutely no interest in breaking up those two. In fact, I hope they have a long, happy marriage, with a dog, a white picket fence, a station wagon, 2.3 kids, the whole deal! And, while I guess I can't be sure what exactly happened, I wasn't faking that vision. Actually, I kind of wish I was, since that would mean that I'm becoming neither an evil forces magnet nor insane, but I'm sorry to say that it really happened."
Grace had a response ready, but suddenly remembered that she still had to ask Charity a last-minute question about the arrangement of novelty table place settings at the reception, so she hurried off, leaving her husband and daughters behind to stare after her.