Dear Mystery Guy (Magnolia Sisters Book 1) Page 5

  "No." Della looked at Mike in horror. Gosh no, a voice squealed in her head. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. Was that why she was so drawn to the mystery guy, because he was family?

  "It's a possibility," Mike defended. "You don't know your family, and you are drawn to him. Wait, when you say drawn to him, you mean attracted?"

  Della sighed and then nodded.

  "And you are choosing me as your sidekick to check out a guy? You just broke my heart, Della. This is like kicking me when I am down."

  Della signed. "Sorry, Mike."

  Mike grimaced. "But I'll recover. Okay, what are friends for? Let's go check out this guy you are attracted to."

  Della touched his sleeve for him to turn around and read her lips. "We are going to crash a wedding."

  Mike sighed dramatically. "A wedding. Is he getting married?"

  "No," Della said, "a friend of his...I guess. " She didn't want to tell Mike how she came by the information. He was already looking at her funny.

  Della signed rapidly. "I have this dream, of somebody holding me down in a pool. Recently a wedding ring started dropping in the water. I don't know if there is any connection with that and this wedding."

  "Oh, now it makes sense." Mike looked at her and nodded. "It makes perfect sense. A dream about a ring and an attraction to a guy. It makes perfect sense."

  "It does?" Della asked tentatively. At the best of times it was hard to tell when Mike was joking or being serious.

  "No Della. I am not serious. You realize that this sounds crazy. You had a dream about a ring and now you are spying on a guy that you are attracted to."

  "It may be significant," Della signed.

  Mike grunted.

  They headed to the north gardens. Della looked at her watch. It was four o'clock. She had anticipated that this was the time when most weddings would be in session. She was right.

  The guests were all seated under a white tent, which was decorated with glorious fresh flowers.

  Even Mike commented on the decor. "That is impressive."

  "Yes," Della said, still searching through the assembled guests to see if she could spot Luca Lawson. In the two rows of chairs she couldn't see him.

  She drifted closer to the tent and then stopped. He was to the far right in the second row and was seated in an aisle seat beside a lady in a red dress. Della's heart started doing a weird skittering motion.

  The lady was gripping his hand possessively. Her nicely manicured nails were done in a French manicure; she had her thumb rhythmically rubbing Luca's hand. It was a show of ownership.

  Della stared dazedly at the lady's hands. She had two rings on her fingers. Her fingers were long and perfectly manicured.

  When the lady turned her head in Della's direction, Della got a full look at her and then she gasped.

  She was happy that her gasp was silent; she didn't want Mike asking her any questions.

  The lady was beautiful; she looked to be in her thirties. She had one of those classically beautiful faces, with pure honey gold skin and seductive pillowy lips.

  Della stepped back from the tent but not before glancing at Luca. He didn't look particularly happy or sad; his expression was neutral as he watched the bride and groom exchange their vows at the front of the tent.

  She wondered who they were. Were they relatives of his? The groom was short and chunky and had a receding hair line. The bride was slim and pretty. She looked a little bit like Hazel with her curly hair and peanut butter skin.

  Della slowly backed away from the tent. What was she doing here, anyway? Mike followed behind her closely.

  "Did you see who you came to see?" he asked.

  "Yes." Della nodded.

  "And?" Mike asked.

  "I want to go home," Della signed. "I think I am having a headache."

  Mike picked up a fat curl and tucked it behind her ear. "I have no clue what is going on with you."

  "Me neither." Della mouthed. "Me neither."

  Chapter Seven

  Dear Luca,

  I found out your name quite by accident last Thursday. I also kind of eavesdropped on your conversation at the counter when you were at the express line and I might have accidentally-on-purpose followed you to a wedding the Sunday after.

  How was the wedding? Did you have a good time with your plus one? She's beautiful. Ever since I saw you guys on Sunday I have been having sharp headaches. I have never known jealousy to be this painful.

  My feelings are totally uncalled for because I don't know you and I might never meet you.

  My friend Mike thinks that I am drawn to you because we are related. I don't know. I have always wanted to meet my family but I am afraid to even think that you are a relative. It would be kind of odd if you were my family.

  In the meantime, I am jealous and I don't even know why I am feeling this way. Maybe I deserve these headaches. I was obsessed enough to follow you to a wedding after overhearing you having a conversation on your phone at the supermarket.

  This is so unlike me. I am going to do better. I promise.

  I have to do better. It feels as if I don't know myself anymore. I am not the kind of girl who stalks guys. Really, I am shy and introverted. Of my four sisters, I am the one least likely to set a party on fire. I am the silent one. The voiceless one. The one who lives in my head.

  Obviously I can't communicate normally because of my voice thing, but I have never been a bubbly personality. I don't think I have ever been. I think even though my memory is impaired and I can't remember who I was, my character is still here and I can tell you right now that I am more on the melancholy side. I have no idea why I am acting like this.

  My list of virtues has gotten shorter and shorter. First, I used Mike to take me to the wedding so that I could see you. I said no to his proposal and he was a little pissed when I said it, but I think he is going to be okay. But the point is, I used him. I don't use people. Not usually. Not knowingly.

  Second, I memorized the address on your driver's license. I overheard your conversation and I acted on it. I am nothing more than a stalker. You know what? I am going to pray about this.

  God will straighten me out. You want to know something that is laughable? I thought that God was the one that impressed me to follow you to Hope Gardens. A couple of days later I am seeing how ridiculous that thought was. God doesn't impress people to stalk others. So now I am not only a stalker but I have become delusional as well.

  I am going to stop writing to you for a while, Luca, to see if this obsession of mine can dissipate.

  For once I hope I don't see you this Thursday. It is the weekend before Christmas anyway. I doubt that you will be around anyway. Maybe you will be out to dinner with your pretty girlfriend, attending a whirlwind of parties and having fun.

  Della placed the pen in the journal and closed her eyes. She was halfway through the journal and no closer to a solution to her dreams, and now the headaches were back in earnest.

  She tossed and turned in her sofa bed. She heard every noise in her apartment complex. She heard somebody sneezing uncontrollably on Block A in the early hours of the morning. She looked on the clock; it was one o’clock.

  She closed her eyes and tried to count sheep and then when that didn't work she tried to count dogs and then cats and then she drifted off.

  She was at the pool again struggling to escape the hold on her.

  "Keep still, girl," a voice said gruffly. "Your hair is caught on something."

  Della stopped struggling. This was new, the voice. The wedding band fell in the water and she caught it.

  She looked at it intently. It was a plain round band with the name Givens printed on the underside.

  Della gasped. The hand wasn't weighing her down anymore. She was free. She started swimming to the surface and when she broke the water she came face to face with Luca's plus one. She was in the same red dress and stylish hat that she had worn to the wedding.

  She was smiling at her tentatively
. Hi.

  Della squinted. She wanted to look around. She couldn't believe that she had finally broken through the water. She was free and she still clutched the wedding band.

  "Where am I?" she croaked. She could speak! She said it out loud. "I can speak!"

  The lady laughed. "Of course you can, silly; why wouldn't you be able to speak?"

  The echoes of her laugh faded, as did the dream.

  Della woke up with a start. Her heart was pounding and her head was throbbing. She had a breakthrough.

  This was the first time in years that she had been able to break the water. She curled her hands in the sheet where she had clutched the ring and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to recapture the essence of the dream.

  She turned on the side lamp and hurriedly scribbled the details of the dream in the journal just in case she forgot them in the morning.

  She turned the light off after she had written down the dream. She needed to decipher what had happened. Which parts of the dream were significant?

  She held a ring with the name Givens inscribed on it. What did that mean? Who was Givens and why on earth was Luca Lawson's plus one in her dream? Who was she?

  By mid-week Della was suffering through a low humming headache. She was also quite fed up with the constant Christmas cheer around her and she was worried that she hadn't done as well on her exams as she could have because of her headaches. The supermarket had hired a few temps to help with the Christmas crowd and she was unexpectedly placed on a regular line. No more express for her. At least not for now.

  "Don't mess this up," Ted had growled when he gave her the new assignment. "I am watching to see if you can cope on the line."

  Della had nodded meekly but between her headache, her Tedache, and the mysterious puzzles that her dream had given her, she was not doing so well.

  She left work at nine o'clock on Wednesday evening feeling almost totally drained. She walked through the parking lot feeling down. When a car stopped almost at her feet, she glanced around in fright.

  Hazel chuckled at her startled look. "Hey Miss Pretty. Get in. Tonight, we are having sister time and we are going out."

  Della perked up. She hadn't seen them in a while. Since their last gathering at Hazel's house, everybody had been busy, caught up in exams and other busy holiday stuff.

  Della slid into the back of the car with Brigid.

  Caitlin was in the front and she spun around and looked at Della, a frown between her eyes. "You look troubled. What's going on?"

  Hazel turned on the overhead light and the three of them observed her keenly.

  "And you have lost weight," Brigid said beside her. "Decided to take up modeling after all?"

  Della leaned back into the seat and signed, "I have a headache. I am getting the dreams again and I am tired. And there is this guy..."

  "Woo," Caitlin grinned. "A guy? Handsome?"

  "Yes, handsome. Well, it's not that simple," Della signed. "I like him but he has a girlfriend and I have been dreaming about her every night. Every night like clockwork.

  "The same old dream with the water. Remember them? Well, it's changed now and this guy that I like, his girlfriend is featuring in them. And there is a ring with the name Givens on it that has suddenly popped up in the dream. I am running myself ragged trying to figure out what it all means."

  "Don't worry, we'll help you figure it out," Hazel said, driving out of the parking lot, "because you are going to have to slowly tell us what on earth you are going on about. Is the Jerk Pit okay for everyone?"

  "Yup," Brigid said. "Maybe we won't have to pay. Tyrone likes Caity."

  "We will pay," Caitlin said firmly. "I will have nothing to do with anyone who is not 'the one' and that includes Tyrone, even though he is fine and he owns the place."

  Brigid rolled her eyes. "You and 'the one'. Mr. John Doe. Have you ever thought that John Doe, the dream guy, the obstacle to you having any relationships, could be the guy for you when you are fifty not when you are in your twenties? Maybe he is to be your last, not your first."

  "Oh shut it," Caitlin said. "You are just jealous of me because I have already seen the guy of my dreams."

  "You have seen him in your dreams and your overactive imagination. Real life doesn't work that way. People just don't dream about the man for them and then poof, they find him and they live happily ever after." Brigid was in her element. "What if this dream means nothing and here you are abstaining from any relationships because of a dream? I don't think it's healthy and I am not too confident in dreams."

  Della looked over at Brigid and signed, "You don't think dreams are significant?"

  "Well, obviously some of them. Most of Caity's were significant," Brigid said, "but I think most dreams are the result of an overloaded subconscious trying to sort out things when we are sleeping.

  "For instance, Caitlin's dream man. I think she saw him somewhere, maybe on a school trip or something, and her subconscious processed his face then she dreamt about him. The problem is, because she has had significant dreams before she is giving this particular dream guy more importance that he should get."

  Caitlin cackled. "Brigid is jealous of meeee because I know who my guy will be and she doesn't even have a boyfriend."

  Brigid rolled her eyes. "I am so jealous; I wish I had an imaginary dream guy--not!"

  "I am going to miss spending Christmas Day with you guys," Hazel said after a beat. "Well, not all day anyway."

  "Hold up," Brigid said. "What do you mean not all day? We always spend Christmas together at Patricia's. The four of us are the only real family we have. Where are you going?"

  "I am marrying Mr. Baron," Hazel said. "We are getting married on Christmas Day. It will be a small morning ceremony. You are all invited, of course. It will be at home. Obviously, I can't spend the usual Christmas with you guys. Besides Patricia is not here."

  "For the love of Moses," Caitlin whistled. "Why marry the man?"

  "I told you why," Hazel gritted. "I need to get back Sebastian. The Deckers are rich and powerful and I have to be rich and powerful enough to fight them in court. I can't fight them with legal aid. I want back my child. I did not give them permission to adopt him. The adoption is illegal."

  They reached the Jerk Pit in silence. They sat down at their usual table in silence. It was far enough from the music so that they could hear each other when they started talking again. It was shaping up to be a high evening.

  Tyrone rushed over, a pencil behind his ears. "Hello ladies and Caitlin."

  "Hi Tyrone!" they said in unison.

  Della waved to him.

  Caitlin tried to avoid looking at him but Tyrone had his eyes trained on her. Della found it funny how earnest Tyrone was about Caitlin, who hadn't given him an ounce of encouragement.

  It was like her and Luca. She sobered up at the thought. She had no right to be laughing at Tyrone because she was Tyrone when it came to Luca. Earnest and stupid; she even followed him to a wedding without an invitation. She couldn't tell her sisters this.

  After they ordered their food and Tyrone left the table Hazel said hurriedly, "Guys, this is my final decision. Mr. Baron is a rich old man who wants to leave his wealth to somebody other than his children. I am helping him out."

  Caitlin snorted. "Well, that makes it fine, then, to tie up your young life with his."

  "I want my son. It has been four years," Hazel said. "And I am going to get him back."

  Brigid shrugged. "I disapprove of the wedding and the marriage."

  Della signed. "Me too."

  Hazel grimaced. "Well, that's three disapprovals. I am sorry to hear that, ladies; while your opinion is very welcomed and I value it usually, I still won't change my mind. Can we talk about Della instead? She has a pressing issue."

  The other girls reluctantly turned to Della. They knew that when Hazel made up her mind, it was well made up.

  Della could remember clearly when Hazel was at Magnolia House, she had been determined to leav
e after her sixteenth birthday. The home only allowed departure after the eighteenth birthday but Hazel was having none of that and they hadn't been able to convince her to stay then. She had packed her bag, told them adios and then left.

  They had tried to convince her by arguing that she only had to wait a year and a half until she turned eighteen and that she could get through the year, but she had been determined to leave. Hazel was not the kind of person to be easily swayed once she made up her mind about something so they didn't pursue it further.

  "Okay, we leave you and your wedding to the old man for now," Brigid said. "Della, what is it you were saying about a hot guy and dreaming about his girlfriend?”

  Della told them about her dreams and the ring and reluctantly about her fascination with Luca Lawson.

  Brigid laughed when she finished bringing them up to date. "You have a crush so bad you have turned into a stalker. You, Della Gold. The reticent Della Gold. The shy girl? Stalking a guy. Unbelievable!"

  Caitlin folded her hands under her chin. "You know, Della, Mike was a good catch. I mean, how many guys in their twenties, upwardly mobile, with ambition, Christian, not bad looking, learned sign language for you, proposed to you--how many guys like that do you know, huh?"

  Della rubbed her temples and mouthed, "No chemistry."

  Brigid snorted. "That is not stopping Hazel from marrying Mr. Baron. What is his first name? Do you even know, Hazel? I am sure you two have no chemistry whatsoever."

  Hazel cut her eyes at Brigid and turned to Della. "I think that you should research the name Givens. It could be significant."

  "Research where?" Della asked. "I wouldn't know where to begin."

  "That's right," Brigid said, "what should she research? That's a pretty well-known surname. Unless your dream means that you are going to marry a guy named Givens. Maybe that's why you were clutching the ring.'

  She turned to Caitlin. "Isn't that right, Caitlin? You dream a ring with a guy's name and poof--it means marriage. Isn't that how it works in the dream world?"

  Caitlin ignored Brigid. "I think your dream is significant, Della. How significant is another matter. Maybe if you give it time you will find out exactly what it means. Maybe you will dream something else?"