Page 8 of Someone to Call My Own

I was a passivist through and through and no threat to him, so his fear struck my funny bones. I threw my head back and laughed hard for several long seconds. I was shocked at how rusty my laughter sounded but realized I had very little to laugh about the past few years.

I expected Josh to retreat further, but he didn’t. Instead, he tipped his head to the side and asked, “What are you doing on Sunday?” He shook his head slightly like he couldn’t believe what he’d just asked.

“Sunday? Isn’t that Easter?” I asked.

Regardless of his surprise, Josh rolled with his instincts. “Uh, yeah. Do you have plans?”

“I’ll probably still be unpacking then.” I started shifting my weight slightly between my right and left foot. I wasn’t sure why, but Josh’s question made me feel uncomfortable. Was this a pity invitation, or an offer of friendship? One left a sour taste in my mouth, and the other made me feel a glimmer of hope.

“Well, I’ll be serving dinner around five if you’d like to come over,” Josh said.

I nodded noncommittally then bit my bottom lip while I debated how I should respond. “I appreciate your invite, Josh. I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Sure,” Josh replied. “I don’t mean to toot my own horn here, but I can pretty much guarantee that you’ve never had a glazed ham better than the one I’ll serve you.”

“Oh, I’m vegan,” I said. I wasn’t really, but I was still paying him back for lying about the wine.

Josh gasped and stood back from me like I announced I was a serial killer and he was a moment away from becoming my next victim. He was stunned by the possibility that I didn’t want to come over and devour his ham. My twitching lips must’ve given me away because he said, “You’re a complete shit, Emory!”

“Man, you’re so easy,” I told him between chuckles.

“Who told?” Josh demanded dryly. I loved his snarky sense of humor when he let his guard down.

I clutched my stomach and laughed even harder. “So sorry,” I said, trying to catch my breath.

“If you think I’m funny then you should see my makeshift family. I can promise you a good time,” Josh said, sounding like a bathroom stall promise.

“I’m not touching that one,” I said, shaking my head. “No way.”

“The offer is there if you want to accept it, but I won’t take it out on your hair at your appointment next week should you not show up to dinner,” Josh told me.

“Yeah, well, this style—or lack thereof—is from not giving a damn. I guess you could say my looks have lost their importance to me the last few years.” I attempted a smile to soften the sadness behind my words. “Can I ask you for one favor if I do show up?”

“You can ask,” Josh replied cautiously.

“Will you please not tell anyone about my…gift?”

“That I can guarantee,” he said.

“Good,” I said in relief. “I don’t do parlor tricks. I take my abilities seriously, and I use them to help people, not hurt them.” I wanted to take the opportunity to assure him that I wasn’t there to cause trouble in his life.

“I understand. I doubt the rest of the group will whip out their phones and search your name as we did, but I do advise you make up a believable excuse as to why you moved to Blissville,” Josh sagely replied. “It’s a nice town and all, but rarely do people move here unless it’s work-related.”

I thought about it for a few seconds then asked, “What do you think they’d find acceptable? Honestly, I’m out of my league here. I don’t know why I’m in Blissville beyond the fact that I knew I was needed.”

Josh narrowed his eyes and looked me up and down. “How about a writer? Maybe you moved here to do research on small towns for a series you’re writing. They may not drill you down as to exactly how or why you picked Blissville, but have an answer ready if they do. My friends have an attention to detail like you won’t believe.”

“Oh, I believe it,” I remarked. “Thanks for the advice. You know,” I said after a brief pause, “it’s not far off the mark. Right now, I’m just jotting things down in a journal, but I have tossed around the idea of publishing a book about my experiences.”

“Can I ask you something, Emory? You can say no, but I need complete honesty if you’re willing to answer my question.”

“Ask away.” I had an idea of what he wanted to ask, and I had no problem answering it.

“Will you share with me exactly what you saw to make you move here in the house behind mine?”

“Honestly, Josh, it was a vision of a piece of mail with my name and the Blissville address on it. Nothing else. It was the oddest thing to ever occur to me. I ignored it for a few weeks until I started to see the vision daily. I knew it was time to pack up and move here to find out what was waiting for me.”

“Do your visions ever help you prevent crimes or do you only help solve them after they’re committed?” Josh asked me.