Taste Page 18

  She continued wailing through their standard script of, “You have the right to remain silent,” and more cops barged in, along with two paramedics, who went straight to the man and woman on the floor.

  My legs felt absent, and I tumbled halfway to the ground, only the strong arms gripping my armpits stopping me from collapsing completely. Then those arms were under my knees and around my back, lifting me up and taking me somewhere. Leo placed me down on the floor in the corner.

  Mom’s curls tickled my face as she buried her head in the side of my neck, sobbing uncontrollably, and my sisters’ hands and arms wrapped around me and each other. I knew my body was out of danger, but my mind was still back in that headlock with the gun pressing into me. I didn’t know how to get myself out of that horrifying moment.

  I tried to cry but couldn’t. I felt detached. I heard the paramedic calling for backup and something about more help arriving soon to treat people for shock and attend to any further injuries. I didn’t even know if I was injured. I couldn’t feel anything, except that my neck stung. They briskly wheeled the guy out on a stretcher, a mask on his face, and one of the cops helped carry the woman with the gunshot injury toward the ambulance.

  I didn’t know if Emilia’s ex would survive, but with any luck they had come in time to give him further treatment and could stabilize him at the hospital. The gunshot wound would heal up, though I doubted she’d be wearing those high heels again any time soon. And as I thought and wondered about others, instead of myself, Mom sat up and turned to speak to one of the police officers, while Leo curled his hand around the side of my face and brought his face close to mine.

  The sight of his eyes brought me back to the present, back to myself. His dark, deep, fiercely protective eyes looked deep into mine.

  “Leo,” I strained to say.

  “Shh,” he whispered, caressing my lips with his finger.

  I reached up for his hand, wrapping my small fingers around his as they rested on my cheek. “Did you mean what you said before, when we both thought there was no hope?”

  “That I love you?”

  I nodded.

  He nodded too. “It shouldn’t take a traumatic event to make someone say it, but it did. I only wish I’d said it sooner.”

  Thinking back to the blossoming of our friendship, then our romance, with his help and support, his guidance, his encouragement, the touch of his hands, the way he kissed me back when I launched myself at him, the way he showed how he felt about me simply by the way he looked at me, I realized something. “You already did,” I said. “You already did.”

  Chapter 22

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” I said as Savannah came into the living room, one side of her hair stuck up like a devil’s horn. “Breakfast is served.” I grinned, waving my hands over the elaborate setup on the dining table. It was nice to smile again, after the onslaught of tears that had engulfed me as soon as I got home after the hostage situation. And then the nightmares. Then more tears. And more nightmares. Sasha and I had become closer in the past two weeks, as she and I had both stared death in the face recently. Well, Savvy had too, in the past, but in a different way.

  Despite our late night running the fundraiser for Lachlan’s family, only two weeks after that close call with Emilia, during which we’d raised enough to make a big difference for his sister, I was now awake and alert and energetic.

  “Oh, you guys,” Savannah waved her hand loosely around, a warm glow on her pale cheeks, her sleepy eyes brightening. “I already had my birthday celebrations four days ago, oh excuse me, our birthday celebrations.” She glanced at Sasha and Serena. “You didn’t have to.”

  “Oh come on, you know today is a different kind of special day,” I said.

  Mom wrapped her arms around Savannah. “Happy anniversary,” she said. “One year ago you fought the odds and woke up from your coma. Happiest day of my life.” Mom’s eyes glossed over and her chin trembled.

  Ours too. Life just wouldn’t be the same without all my sisters.

  “So you’re not sick of me yet?” Savannah joked.

  I gave her a light slap on the arm. “Well, you do get on my nerves sometimes, and you’re not always the most tactful person, and also, you kinda snore. I can hear you from all the way in my room!” I covered my ears, then she gave me a light slap.

  “I do not!”

  “You don’t,” said Serena. “Trust me, if you did I would be spending every night on the couch with earplugs.”

  April fourteenth. How different this day was compared to one year ago. We’d sat by her bed, wondering if we’d ever get our sister back. And then we did. Just like that. One minute she was comatose, like she’d been every other day for the previous two months, and then the next minute, her eyes were open. But as we’d discovered, she’d seen something even before opening her eyes. We all had, or sensed something, at least. That was when I had my first taste of something new. The first day our gift appeared. Savannah’s awakening was synonymous with our awakening. It was kind of the anniversary of the Delta Girls too. And wow, so much had happened in the past year. What would the next twelve months bring?

  We sat and ate a celebratory breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, grilled tomato, and mushrooms, which I decided would satisfy me for at least another two and a half hours—three at the most. “We’ll be back after this short commercial break,” I said in my TV chef voice, standing and clearing some plates.

  “You know, you won’t really get to say that. You’ll just be working behind the scenes,” said Sasha.

  Since Emilia had been arrested, and the producers of the cooking show inevitably found out, they’d awarded the job to the second place winner—yours truly. It was the silver lining to all of this. And I bet Emilia was fuming, if she knew. Though, she had a whole lot more to worry about now than someone taking her job.

  “You never know,” I said. “Anything is possible.” I held my head high.

  “Exactly,” my mom agreed. “And I’m—we’re—very much looking forward to being in the audience of your first live show next weekend, aren’t we girls?”

  “I hope the smells aren’t too overpowering,” said Sasha.

  “I’m more worried about the crowd and all that loud whispering at once,” said Serena.

  “Positive thoughts girls, positive thoughts! Sheesh.” Mom shook her head.

  Talia nodded. “I’m bringing my meditation stone. I’ve put a protection spell on it now, to help me stay strong when I’m around a lot of people, so I don’t get drawn too deeply into their feelings.”

  “What, are you a witch now, Talia?” Savannah chuckled.

  “No, I just do rituals and set intentions sometimes. It’s powerful.”

  “Yeah, witchcraft.”

  Talia shook her head like Mom.

  Was anyone even remotely happy for me? “Have you all forgotten the fact that I’m going to be working on a real live television show? You know, like on that thing over there?” I pointed to our TV. “You turn it on and see people and things, and some people get really famous, and one day I might be famous and have my own show, and I’m not inviting you to be in my audience if you don’t stop complaining and worrying and just be grateful you get to take part.” I would have crossed my arms but I was still holding about a million plates. Well, three. “Except you, Mom, you’ll still be invited.”

  “Thank you, dear.”

  “Okay, okay. Congratulations Tamara. I’m very happy for you,” said Sasha. “And I’m sure the smells will all be so incredibly delicious I’ll be salivating more than you.”

  “And it will be pretty cool to hear people’s private conversations,” Serena added.

  “And it will be good to test out my meditation stone.” Talia lifted it from her pocket and held up the beautifully decorated “magic pet rock.”

  “That’s my girls,” said Mom. “Your dad would be proud of your resilience.”

  There was a silence in the room, which often followed a mention of
my dad. I decided to break it. “Well, every good chef has to do a bit of cleaning up occasionally.” I raised the plates a little to indicate what I was about to do, then took them to the kitchen. When I came back out, Savannah was staring at the TV, even though it wasn’t on. “Are you still in shock that I’m going to be on a TV show?” I giggled.

  She didn’t answer. Which meant something was spinning around in her mind, or she was seeing something in her mind and needed to focus. She got up and turned the television on.

  “You want to celebrate your anniversary by watching TV?” Mom asked.

  “No, I just have a feeling.” Her face was scrunched up. “Don’t know why, had to turn it on.” She flipped through the channels and stopped on the news report.

  The hostage situation was old news now. They were covering some other negative event, but the story was being wrapped up.

  “Looks like we missed it, whatever it was,” I said.

  “No, no, I don’t think it’s that.” She stood in front of the TV, hands on hips.

  A taste worked its way into my consciousness. It was salty, and a little overpowering, like when you’re trying to flavor something but end up going overboard, and then it’s too flavorful. Overkill. I remembered when I had tasted it before. When we read Dad’s letter. It made me think that maybe his letter had more to it than we thought.

  The news reporter began talking. “Dave Bolt was arrested this morning for a series of armed robberies, but refuses to give up the whereabouts of his accomplice, older brother Sean Bolt.” Photos of the two brothers appeared on the screen and the taste in my mouth intensified.

  Savannah peered closely at the TV screen. Then she rubbed her eyes. She turned away, and her eyes darted around the room. “I can’t… it’s like… letters, the alphabet, everywhere. All jumbled up.”

  “Savvy, sit down.” Mom grasped her gently by the arm and tried to encourage her to sit, but she straightened up and stiffened.

  “No.” Her eyes cleared, and she looked at Mom. “It’s the letter. I have to see the letter again.”

  I knew it.

  She dashed into Mom’s room, and we followed. She stood on the chair and yanked down the old shoebox from the top of the closet, a blanket and old slippers falling into the floor. With shaky hands, she retrieved Dad’s letter to Mom and unfolded it. She began to scan it.

  Sasha peered at it over Savvy’s shoulder, but Savvy held her hand up to keep her back. “I need to think. Just wait…”

  As Savannah’s eyes did their work, I swished my tongue around my mouth, as the taste overtook me.

  Then my sister’s hand that held the letter dropped by her side, and she gazed up at us, her mouth agape.

  “What?” Sasha asked.

  “Oh my God. Dad. He’s a genius.” Her mouth arched into a victorious smile as she held up the letter. “I knew there was something about the letter that we couldn’t see—I knew it!”

  We all gathered around Savannah, trying to see what she was looking at.

  “Look! Read it again.” She jabbed the paper with her finger.

  My eyes quickly scanned the handwritten note, waiting for something to jump out at me.

  My Darling Rose,

  Sometimes the written word is the best way to say what must be said.

  Every day I’m grateful for the love we’ve shared, my bella.

  An amazing, unique, unconventional luv.

  Never did I stop searching for you, my soul mate, and the day that we became husband and wife was the best day of my life.

  But as you would say: it was simply fab.

  On the off chance I’m ever unable to do what a father should do, look after our girls, my Rose, please promise to.

  Life will go on, as I know you will.

  Thank you for everything, from the bottom of my heart.

  David.

  “I can’t see anything,” Mom said. “What do you see?” Her eyes were wide and frantic.

  Savannah ran a finger down one side of the letter, and then the other. “He left a hidden message!” She then pointed directly to each letter at the beginning and end of each sentence.

  Oh my God. I see it. I see it!

  The letters, not including the greeting or Dad’s name at the end, spelled out a name. Two names: one down the left, and one down the right.

  Sean Bolt.

  Dave Bolt.

  Dad had hidden the names of those responsible for his disappearance, and most likely his death, in his letter to Mom.

  My whole body trembled. “That’s why he spelled love as ‘luv,’ so he could include the v in ‘Dave’.”

  We knew who was responsible now. And one of them was already in custody, though for a lesser crime. But the other was still on the loose.

  We had to find him. We had to.

  We had to link them to Dad’s cold case and find out what they did to him.

  “Oh my goodness,” Mom’s voice shook. She took the letter from Savvy. “I can’t believe I’ve had this for so many years and never saw it.” She straightened, her body appearing taller than usual. “We have to take this to the police. Now.”

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