A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis - Robyn Peterman Page 0,53
going to drop it.
“What time?” Gideon asked, pulling out his cell phone.
“Two,” I replied. “But ask Heather if she can be here at one-thirty please.”
“Am I giving a reason for the gathering?” he inquired, curious himself.
I paused and stared at the man I loved. “No. Just tell them to be here.”
“Roger that,” he said, looking at me strangely. “Go watch the show. I’ll take care of it.”
My heart sped up and I wanted to tell him what I had planned, but something stopped me.
“Thank you.”
“Always, Daisy,” he said. “I will always have your back.”
I nodded, afraid I was going to word vomit everything inside my head. I couldn’t take the chance he would talk me out of it. With one last smile, I turned and mounted the stairs.
I knew Gideon hadn’t done it. Actually, I would bet my life on it. He was with me when I’d told the story to John Travolta that I’d always believed. However, while I trusted Gideon completely, everyone else was guilty until proven innocent.
“How hard is it to reverse a thought planted in someone’s mind?” I asked Heather. “And what would it do to the person? Would it hurt them?”
“Hello to you, too,” she said, entering the house.
“Sorry. Hi,” I said, taking her coat and hanging it in the foyer closet. “Can the magic be reversed?”
“Why?” she asked, perplexed. “I don’t think the thoughts I put in Jennifer, June and Missy’s heads are harmful. I mean, I was stupid to have done it without asking you first, but—”
“Not what I’m talking about.” I took her by the arm and led her to the kitchen where we would have privacy. I didn’t need Gram overhearing. She still wasn’t quite right in the head. Actually, none of us were quite right in the head, but she wasn’t completely back to herself yet.
Gideon had run out to Smithee’s Wine and Cheese Shop to pick up some snacks. Smithee’s was normally out of my price range, but Gideon had insisted on paying. For a second, I wondered how much money he had, but stopped myself just short of asking. The answer would probably make me pass out, and I didn’t have time for that.
The meeting wasn’t exactly a party, but in the South, food was required at any gathering longer than a half hour.
“Explain to me why you want to know that,” Heather said, opening the fridge and searching for a bottle of water.
“First answer the question,” I said.
Heather found the water, took a long swallow and eyed me with concern. “I’ve never reversed it,” she said. “I’ve only planted thoughts twice.”
“In Jennifer, June and Missy?”
“Yes, and once a few hundred years ago,” she confirmed. “I’m not exactly proud of any of it, but both times it was to help someone I loved.”
A feeling of relief washed over me. I didn’t think Heather had planted the false story of my mother’s death into Gram’s mind, but since I was aware she could do it, I couldn’t rule her out… until now. Hopefully. A little more insurance was needed.
“Who is the person you would die for?” I asked.
“What kind of question is that?” Heather demanded.
“A very serious one.”
“Daisy,” Heather said, wildly confused. “What is going on?”
“Please just answer.”
Heather ran her hands through her hair and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. “Missy. I would die for Missy.”
“Would you be willing to swear on Missy’s life that those two times were the only two times you planted new memories?”
“Swearing on the life of someone I love is harsh,” Heather said slowly. “However, whatever it is you’re not telling me is clearly important. Correct?”
I nodded and waited.
Heather took another sip and sighed. “Yes. I would swear on Missy’s life that the two instances I told you about were the only times I’ve planted memories.”
Blowing out the breath I didn’t know I was holding, I sat down at the kitchen table and closed my eyes. “Thank God,” I whispered.
“You believe in God now?” she asked, sitting down across from me and handing me her half-drunk bottle of water.
“I believe enough to say thank you,” I said with a weak smile and took a sip.
“Okay,” she said, clearly still confused. “You going to tell me why we’re having this discussion?”
“I am,” I promised. “But I need you to explain something else first.”
“Shoot,” she said, resting her elbows on the table and leaning forward.
“If the thoughts were reversed—back to the truth—what would happen?”
Heather grew pensive and rubbed her temples. “Honestly, I don’t know.”