Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay by Babette Jongh (best fantasy books to read TXT) 📕

“Why don’t you just tell me?”

Reva laughed. “Nope. You have to learn to trust yourself, and you won’t do that if I keep holding your hand. Hey, I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later.”

After breakfast, Abby shooed Quinn and Sean out and cleaned the kitchen by herself. The scooter forced her to do everything more slowly, so she let the whole kitchen-cleaning exercise become a contemplative experience. She even washed the dishes by hand instead of using the dishwasher.

With her hands in the warm soapy water, Abby’s thoughts drifted back to her childhood summers with Aunt Reva, when she’d stood on a stepstool and helped Reva wash dishes. Abby’s parents had been so completely wrapped up in their own lives that shipping her off for a whole summer each year hadn’t caused a blip on their parental radar screen. They had hardly ever called, and Abby hadn’t missed them. She had loved pretending that she was Reva’s daughter and not just her niece.

Reva had tried, even then, to teach Abby how to communicate with animals. And Abby had pretended that she could. Sometimes it had felt so right, as if she really was communicating. But now, seeing it from a grown-up perspective, Abby wondered if she been so hungry for Reva’s mothering that she had convinced herself in order to please Reva. Abby did believe it was possible to communicate telepathically with animals; she’d seen Reva do it too many times to doubt. But she wasn’t sure of her own ability.

Reva had always said it was okay to let it be what it was, either real or pretend, and not to worry about it. Reva said that one day, Abby would have a communication experience that couldn’t be explained away, and when that happened, she would understand and accept her abilities.

That day hadn’t come yet, though Abby had experienced glimpses of clarity that felt real. But it seemed that whenever she noticed the door of communication opening, it quickly slammed shut. Maybe she was the one doing the slamming, without meaning to. Maybe she was so afraid of being wrong that she hadn’t allowed herself to really try.

Something about the slow, solitary work of cleaning the kitchen—moving meditation, Reva called it—made Abby feel relaxed and receptive, sort of the same way she’d felt when Reva talked her through the conversation with Wolf the other night when she was waiting at the vet. Maybe now would be a good time to have that conversation, or at least try to.

Abby took the scooter to the sofa and sat with her foot up on the scooter’s seat. Her phone, which she’d been keeping in the scooter’s basket, buzzed. A text from Reva, Abby knew before she checked the message.

Scan his health, see if you notice any aches or pains, and if so, where it hurts.

Ask him where he’s been sleeping at night.

Ask him where he’d like to be fed.

Ask him to show himself.

The tractor started up next door. Abby leaned back against the couch cushions and did the relaxation thing of breathing and imagining her body as an empty straw through which communication would flow. She imagined Wolf coming to sit in front of her. She tried the body-scanning thing Reva had taught her long ago, imagining that her body was Wolf’s body, as if she could slip her hands and feet into his paws, zip her body up into his skin, and become him. Then, she took another deep breath and let it out, and allowed her attention to go where it wanted.

Her right side tingled; a tickling, tightening feeling, her skin itching, crawling, almost burning. She scratched the spot, and the burning sensation intensified, so she lifted up her shirt to make sure an insect wasn’t in there biting her. Nothing.

Okay, so maybe he had fleas. Or maybe, she did.

She took another breath and tried again. She tried to imagine what it would feel like to have paws instead of hands. She tried to imagine what it would feel like to have furry ears that stuck up, and a fluffy tail to wag. She imagined a beam of light scanning from her furry ears to her fluffy tail, and waited to see where her attention wanted to stick.

Except for the spot that itched and burned, it didn’t.

She blew out a breath and stood. “This is stupid.”

She grabbed the handlebars of the scooter, put her knee on the seat, and tried to see how fast she could make it to the refrigerator. “World record, yay.”

She wasn’t hungry this soon after breakfast, but her body required something to conquer the antsy feeling that had come over her. The chicken salad she’d made yesterday, no. Chicken salad on a bed of green salad, no, and no.

A few spoonsful of Ben & Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake later, she went back to the couch and tried again.

Stella, the bad little calico who’d pretty much decided that her only use for humans was as a source of food and water, hopped into her lap and started purring. “Well, that’s a new attitude.” She petted Stella’s silky head. At Abby’s gentle touch, Stella hissed and jumped down, tail twitching with irritation. “Okay, then.” Maybe not such a new attitude after all. “Never mind.”

Abby put the bad little cat out of her mind and refocused on her conversation with Wolf. She closed her eyes and imagined Wolf coming to sit in front of her, but he was already there, giving her a slit-eyed look. You left, she imagined him saying. I’ve been waiting.

“Sorry. I’m here now.” She felt a stab of irritation, and let it go. “Where have you been sleeping?”

Nothing. Reva always said that when you get nothing, it can mean you’ve asked the wrong… Wait. “Where have you been sleeping at night?”

She saw an image of him curled up on her back patio. She saw his ears flicking when bugs bothered him; she’d been leaving the patio light on, hoping to discourage the raccoons, but the light