Season's Change: Summer: A Goddess Legacy Companion Novel (Goddess Legacy 1.5) (11 page)

I tried to rationalize why I dreamed that specific number. Chrys was worried about his mom, so maybe some force was telling me to watch out for Ms. Gorge through my dreams. Melissa
did
say my mom would be contacting me and didn't know when or how. Could my mom be sending me these messages through my dreams?

Maybe his mom wanted to stop me from attaining my full powers, and my mom left to protect me from those who'd know my potential. If so, she could come back when I turned eighteen because the danger would be over. I would be powerful then, too.

Everything Chrys said clicked. Everything, except what he said about Don. I could not believe that. I felt bonded to Don, not Chrys. Even though Don and I were taking things slowly, I still felt our relationship was destined to be something great. I knew it. Don knew it. Just like I knew I needed air to breath, I knew through every fiber of my being that Don was meant for me.

Chloe was home when I got there, and she could see how distraught I was. We went up to her bedroom, and I spilled my guts. I told her about the dreams, what Don said about the Gorges, and everything Chrys told me, not holding anything back. She was shocked but quickly shifted into best friend mode, suggesting we do our own research on Greek Mythology. We made plans to conduct research on our own while I was on vacation and meet up afterward on our findings.

I felt bad about the whole prophesy thing. Chloe wasn't having any of that. "I'm not going to pretend my feelings aren't hurt, but I don't blame you. Heck, I

don't even blame him. It's not your fault. Apparently, we're dealing with destiny or some other force. And from what you've said, this is all new to him, too. Besides, I really do kinda like Zach."

I'd been so absorbed in my own drama that I'd forgotten to even ask about him. Some friend I was. I quickly rectified that by asking how her date went, and she giddily

brought me up to speed. We talked about her date with Zach and my dates with Don until I went home. Don had made plans to come over to see me off, and I didn't want to miss one minute of my time with him.

I was struggling with my suitcase, trying to get it in the back of Melissa's SUV, when Don pulled up.

He walked over to me and took the suitcase out of my hands with a smile. "How was your day?" he asked as he effortlessly put the bag in the vehicle. "Long." That was the truth without giving too much away.

He turned to look at me and took both my hands into his. "I've missed you all day. I'm really going to miss you this week." He pulled me into a hug. It felt so right. Chrys had to be wrong. I hugged him back and pressed my face into his chest.

"I'm going to miss you, too."

He let go of me, and took my hand to lead me into the house. He helped Melissa pack her car with hers and Laurel's bags while I supervised.

"Don, would you like to stay for dinner?" Melissa asked as we walked into the

house.

"Yes, ma'am," he responded politely with a smile but quickly glanced at me for

approval. I rolled my eyes but nodded.

I offered to show him the rest of the house. We toured the rest of the downstairs before heading upstairs where I pointed out each of the bedrooms, saving mine for last.

"Here's my room." I opened the door, walking in with him following behind. "Hmmm . . ." He smiled.

I was too nervous to ask what he was thinking, so I grabbed my new necklace and showed it to him.

"Wow. It's very beautiful." He had an unfathomable expression on his face. Then he turned playful and glanced around my room again.

"What?" I giggled nervously.

"Nothing. It's just not what I expected." He shook his head but seemed amused. "You know when you read a book and visualize how something looks, but when that

book is made into a movie, the director's visions aren't always similar to the ones in your head? It's not necessarily a bad thing; it's just different."

"Are you telling me you've visualized what my bedroom looks like?" I asked as I put away my necklace.

"Maybe." He was playing coy. He'd obviously thought about it. I liked that.

"What else have you visualized, besides my bedroom?"

"I've envisioned a lot of things," he said, smiling, taking a step forward. "You have?" I played along, taking a step in his direction.

"Mm-hmm." He took the final step toward me and ran his hand down the length of my arm.

"Season, dinner's ready," Laurel said as she popped her head into my room. I jumped, taking a step back, and Don dropped his hand to his side, smiling.

We vacated my room and met up with Melissa putting the last of the food on the table. While we ate, there was rarely a quiet moment, which was nice. We all seemed to enjoy the conversation, regardless of whom it was directed at.

When finished eating, Don walked with me to the living room where we visited until dark, talking, laughing, making plans for Saturday, and exchanging email addresses since we already had each other's cell numbers. When it was time for him to leave, I walked him to his car. We were standing by the driver's side when Don leaned against the door with his arms crossed.

"I hope you have a blast at the beach." He tried to sound happy. "It'll be over before we know it."

"I really do want you to have fun. But avoid heights. No parasailing," he teased. "That won't be a problem." I stepped closer and stroked his cheek.

He uncrossed his arms and lightly clutched my waist, pulling me against him. I put both my arms around his neck and eased my head against his chest, listening to his heart. He leaned his head down against my hair and held me for a long moment. There

wasn't anything to be said. Everything we wanted to say was already being communicated.

Don kissed the top of my head and then my forehead before resting his forehead against mine.

"Season, please be careful." "I will," I whispered.

Then leaning over, he buried his face into my neck—where I could feel his hot breath against my skin—wrapped his arms around my back and lifted me off the ground in a tight hug. I clung to him while he turned his head slightly and kissed my neck.

He put me down and held my face in his hands. "Goodbye," he whispered.

I stood outside watching him drive away, wondering how I'd get through this week and wondering how much weight to put into what I'd learned from Chrys.

T
o say
that our trip to Florida was not ideal would be like saying Hell was just a desert resort.

Nothing went right.

A hurricane formed in the Atlantic and traveled into the Gulf. The warning flags on the beach flew a sobering red all week, while the wind howled and the sky never beamed brighter than the dull gray of the clouds. There was no fun in the sun.

Melissa tried to entice us with outlet malls and museums, but I passed when I could. I used that time to do research on Greek Mythology and touch base with Chloe and Don.

And I talked to Don every day. His voice pulled me out of the despair that was the vacation of my nightmares—not literally, of course, though considering my dreams of late, that analogy wasn't too far off the mark.

I'd learned that the weather back home had been beautiful, so that just added to my funk. If Chrys's mom really could control the weather, then I could see why she was making my trip miserable and the weather back home beautiful. If the dreary summer weather returned with my arrival, then I'd definitely say this was her doing.

I did as much research as I could, but there was too much information. Not really knowing where to start, I focused on specific gods. Some of them I'd heard about, like Aphrodite, Hercules, and Zeus, and others I hadn't, like Artemis and Hermes, though I had heard of Holy Grail of handbags, the Hermes Birken. Chloe owned three. But I digressed.

From what I'd read, creating offspring from the earth and swallowing babies that later lived seemed to be commonplace. The typical concept of mating to produce bambinos didn't really seem to apply. The gods created offspring with anyone and anything. Then I wondered, since mating wasn't necessary, if my parents were even really a couple. Maybe that was why Melissa always talked about my mom, never my dad. Maybe the parents chose who would be the true parent. When an offspring was produced with an inanimate object, the decision would be fairly obvious, I mused. No tree could raise a child.

Ugh! What if one of my parents was not a person? That would be so weird.

Maybe that was why Melissa never mentioned my father. I could hear her now,
Season, this is your dad, the white oak tree; we planted him here to be close to you. He gave you life, now try not to hit him with the lawnmower
. Super weird!

As I kept reading, the one thing that stood out more than any other was that this was all mythology. Myths. So how would I know what to believe?

By Friday, I'd found my first real clue to me being linked to this craziness. On a website about Zeus, it was stated that he was born in Crete.
My
last name was Crete. Chrys's words passed through my head,
there are no coincidences
. And I knew that this was not one. I didn't know if my lineage linked to Zeus, but it definitely needed further investigating.

Laurel and I had convinced Melissa we should checkout and leave right after breakfast on Saturday. And as soon as we got home and my bag was unpacked, I took a shower and got ready for my date with Don. I'd planned on wearing jeans and a spaghetti-strap top, so I could show off my newly tanned arms, but that obviously didn't happen. It was still a cute top, so I didn't deviate from the original wardrobe plan.

The knock on the door sent my heart fluttering. I ran down the stairs and practically yanked the door off the hinges. Five days without seeing Don was five days too many! I couldn't wait to put my eyes on his gorgeous face.

He was standing with his weight on one leg, staring down at a bouquet of fresh roses. About two seconds after I opened the door, he glanced up and met my gaze. I knew I was beaming with joy all the way to my toes, and his returning smile displayed the same level of enthusiasm.

"You look so beautiful," he said through his smiling lips. "You look great, too." I contained my excitement.

"I missed you so much." He stepped up to the threshold, handing me the flowers. "These are for you. I figured the ones I gave you last week are probably past their usefulness."

The bouquet of roses was an explosion of color, containing much more than a dozen. Every color of rose I could imagine was represented, and the aroma was simply heavenly.

I thanked him as I took them to the kitchen. He followed right behind me, walking over to the old roses, which had dried and scattered their petals around the vases. He reached for one of the container.

"What are you doing?" I protested as he pulled the roses out. "I'm getting rid of these."

"No. I want to keep them."

"Season, I plan on giving you flowers all the time. There's no need to keep the dead ones." He chuckled.

"You don't have to give me flowers every time you take me out." I gently took the dead flowers from him.

"I didn't say I'd give them to you
every
time we go out." He smirked. "Still, these were the first ones you gave me. I want to keep them."

"Okay, I won't complain about these dead flowers, but I don't want to see your room covered with dead flowers by the end of summer. Surrounding yourself with all that death isn't healthy." He chuckled.

I rolled my eyes and laughed as I put the fresh flowers in a new vase, then picked up the two containers of old roses. I took them upstairs for safe keeping before we left for our date.

It was very relaxing. We ate pizza, talked, and laughed. When we finished eating, we stayed a little while longer because the restaurant provided a nice place for us to be alone. We spoke freely about anything that came to our minds. Anything except what Chrys had told me about at work the day before I left. I kept that little conversation to myself.

"My mom will be back on Monday. I'd like to bring you over to meet her, you know,
formally
."

"Okay," I mumbled.

"Don't worry. You've already met her, and she's still really nice. Besides, I've already told her all about you." He was fighting a smile.

"What did you say?"

"Well, I told her things like how funny and kind you are and how you've grown into a beautiful woman, though I've always thought you were a beautiful person." He paused. "And I told her how I feel about you."

"How
do
you feel about me?"

He reached over and played with a strand of my hair.

"Since we're taking things
slowly
, I think we should save this conversation for a later time."

My heart was pounding, and I blushed. "I can wait."

Don took me home after dinner and walked me to the door while making plans for him to stop by tomorrow after I got off work. The glow of the porch light illuminated him, making him seem ethereal. When he wrapped one arm around me and grazed my cheek with the other, I held my breath, waiting. He leaned down and kissed my exposed shoulder, then my neck, before placing his lips at my ear.

"I hope you have a wonderful night's sleep. Dream beautiful dreams. I know I will because I'll be dreaming about you."

He slid his lips down my cheek and kissed me softly at my jaw before turning away. He winked at me as he got in his car, and I melted.

But my dreams that night were not sweet. Most of the elements were the same.

When I found the girl, she was irritated.

"What took you so long?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

"I didn't know what I was looking for," I said, talking about the shelter we were

in.

"It's been right in front of you the whole time." She reached out with her index

finger extended and touched the middle of my forehead.

For an instant, I knew the answers to everything like I did the last time she touched my forehead. I gasped in my dream and then woke up with an actual gasp, sitting straight up in my bed, clutching my blanket at my chest. But I couldn't remember the revelation at the end of my dream.

As I sat in contemplation, I considered the fact that if my mom was communicating with me through my dreams, then maybe this girl could give me the answers. I would have to subconsciously make myself ask her questions the next time I dreamed about her.

Thunder crashed outside, and I looked out the window to see dark clouds hovering in the sky. The yard was flooded, so it must've rained all night. I guessed my theory about Chrys's mom manipulating the weather was true. She must have known I returned yesterday since I was on the schedule to work today. After all, there were no coincidences.

I got dressed and headed to work. When I got there, Tracy was mopping up water, and Chrys was up on a ladder, taking down waterlogged ceiling tiles.

Apparently, the roof had leaked from all the rain. I felt a little smug that Ms. Gorge's store suffered from the consequences of her actions.

I went to the supply closet and retrieved another mop to help Tracy. "How bad is the damage?" I asked Chrys while I mopped.

"Not sure. Mom is tracking down the handyman since it's Sunday." "I take it she's not in the best of moods."

He stared down at me with a wistful expression. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't. Not with Tracy around. Besides, since he said we couldn't talk about this at work anymore after that first time, maybe he wouldn't voice an apology anyway.

He straightened his face before he spoke. "No. She's not."

I nodded and went back to mopping. Chrys stepped down, asked me to help him check for other damage, and instructed Tracy to open the store in five minutes. I followed Chrys down into the basement, and he turned to look at me.

"We're not checking on flood damage, are we?"

"No. I already checked down here before Tracy arrived," he said quickly. "Then what are we doing down here?"

"I need to talk to you."

"You said we couldn't talk about
things
here anymore." "I don't have a choice." He sighed. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, why?"

"Because you know about my mom. The weather was horrible in Florida last week, and I'm sure you've heard the weather was unseasonably pleasant here while you were gone."

"I already thought about that," I said curtly.

"I was so furious with her. I tried to talk some sense into her. I hated she was ruining your vacation!"

"She didn't ruin it for me," I lied. "It gave me a reason to stay inside and do some research." Which was true.

"I'm really sorry." He stepped closer to me.

I stepped back and realized I was up against a wall. He took another casual step in my direction. We were now uncomfortably close, though I was the only one who was uncomfortable.

"It's not your fault." I looked away from him.

"It is partly my fault." He leaned over, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I know my mom has some vendetta against your mom and, more recently, her negative feelings against you have intensified. I know I'm the reason for that."

"Don't worry about it."

He almost smiled. "I don't have a choice. I have to worry about it because I worry about you."

"Chrys," I breathed and shook my head. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but I didn't want to give him the wrong impression, either.

"Don't." He raised his hand as if he were going to touch my lips to keep me from talking. Then he stopped and put his hand down. "I understand how you feel. I don't want to put you in a position where you can't stand to be around me. Even if we're not meant to be together
now
. . ."

"Stop," I whispered. "I don't want to think about that." I stepped to the side to get away from the wall. "I really do appreciate your honesty, but I'm with Don." I looked into Chrys's eyes. "I
want
to be with Don."

"I know." He dropped his head.

Ugh. Why was this happening? "Look," I said softly, walking toward him, "I do like you . . . as a friend. My life changed a few weeks ago, and I feel like you're someone I can really talk to about . . . about
things
that I can't talk about with other people."

He smiled, but it looked pained.

"I don't want you to be sad about how things are with you and me. I like our friendship . . . just the way it is, but if you can't handle keeping our relationship as it is, then maybe we shouldn't—"

"No! Don't say that. I, um . . . You're right. We can keep things strictly on a friendly level. Just don't say you don't want to be friends with me. I get that you want to be with Don, but I couldn't bear the thought of you not being in my life at all. Friends, I can do."

"
Friends
," I emphasized. "Friends," he agreed.

I waited a moment to let that sink in. I wanted to be sure he was clear on how I felt about him before we went on. "Can I ask you something?" I asked after several minutes had passed.

"Anything." And I was absolutely sure he meant that.

"I had another dream last night about weather. Since Melissa said my mom would be contacting me—but she didn't know when or how—I think maybe these dreams are my mom's doing. What do you think?"

"Hmmm . . . I don't think so. I think it's your subconscious trying to work things out, but it's good you're trying to consider all the possibilities."

I gasped. "Do you think it could be your mom's doing?" I hadn't even thought about that until now!"

"No," he said calmly. "She can't get into your dreams. We're not descended from Hypnos's line."

"Who's Hypnos?"

"The god of sleep. He had four sons with Pasithea: Icelus, Morpheus, Phobetor, and Phantasos. Their sons were known as the Oneiroi. But Morpheus is the Greek god of dreams. If one of the gods is involved in manipulating your dreams, I would think either Morpheus himself or one of his descendants who retained some power over dreams would be the one behind that. We're not part of that lineage, so I know my mom can't do that."

He spoke so freely about his Greek Mythology knowledge. I immediately found myself wanting to know everything that he knew.

I stepped quickly over to him and grabbed his arm. "You have to tell me everything."

Chrys was startled but willing. "Um, what do you want to know? There's so much."

"Who did you descend from? Did you ever live here before? Do you know why it's been prophesied that we'll be together?" I tried not to squirm when I asked the last question.