“Nicki’s here,” Luke says. “Remy, try to see her, she’s right next to Megan.”
Remy cocks her head, and then her eyes open wide. “Nicki!” She smiles for a second, and then her face clouds over. Her features sharpen, coming clearly into view. “Nicki! Don’t go there! It’s bad! Make a wish, Meggy, make a wish. No, Nicki, no!”
Remy trembles and turns to me. “Meggy, it’s bad. She’s gonna die. You’ve gotta help her! You gotta help her!” Water starts to drip from the hem of her dress.
Nicki turns to me, her eyes as frightened as Remy’s. “Wh-what is she doing? What’s the matter with her?”
Oh, shit. I hoped Remy wouldn’t slip into panic mode with Nicki! I even convinced Luke not to warn Nicki about Remy’s out-of-control tantrums so she’d be more open to this whole thing.
“Remy, calm down,” I say. “We’ll put on a show, we’ll sing more songs!”
“No!” Remy says, starting to rock on her heels. She shakes her head and I hear the water from the river splash and roar by—just like the day of the accident. “Bad! Bad! Daddy’ll help. She’s gonna die.”
“What’s wrong?” Nicki yells. She jerks her head around the room. “What’s that? The water noise?”
Luke drops Nicki’s hand and stands up. “Remy, it’s okay, Nicki’s okay.”
“Daddy, help her!”
Suddenly the door opens and Fergus trots in. He looks at Remy and his tail drops down between his legs. He barks twice in her direction.
Remy scowls and shakes a finger at him. “Bad dog,” she says as she disappears from view.
Mom follows him in, shutting the door behind her. “We won! We beat that little troll of a Brussels griffon and the bichon too!”
Nicki, Luke, and I are frozen in our spots as Mom stares at us.
“H-hi, Mom, that’s great,” I say, knowing it’s obvious Nicki and I have been crying and she’ll be wondering why.
Mom puts her purse on a chair and walks slowly over, eyeing us suspiciously. “Is everything okay?”
Nicki looks at me, her eyes about to pop.
“Ha, yeah, Mom, of course everything’s okay. We were, uh, just watching a show, and it was intense. So intense, we had to turn it off.”
“Oh,” she says, still giving us the eyeball. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“Huh?” My head whips around to look at Luke and then back to Mom. “Oh!” I force a smile on my face and hope I don’t look as crazed as I feel and that Mom won’t notice the puddle of river water Remy left behind on the floor either. “This is Luke, he works at Land of Enchantment painting scenery and stuff.”
He takes a few steps toward Mom and holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He shakes her hand and his brow furrows. “That’s funny, you look really familiar.”
Mom smiles. “I was featured in the entertainment section of the Conway Daily Sun not too long ago with Fergus here.” She reaches down and scratches Fergus behind his ears. “We do canine freestyle—it’s a combination of obedience training and dance to show off the bond between a dog and his handler.”
Luke shakes his head. “Um, I don’t think I saw that, but maybe …” His eyes flash with recognition. “Did you have an appointment with my grandmother this morning?”
Mom raises her eyebrows, looking puzzled. “Your grandmother?”
“Amador’s Psychic …” he starts to say, but he looks at Mom’s horrified expression and stops. “Maybe it was the article.”
Mom’s face reddens. “Oh, well, actually I was there, but it was nothing.” She smiles broadly. “The White Mountain Freestyle Club is having a raffle and I was”—she brushes the side of her nose and looks away from me—“soliciting businesses for raffle donations.” She nods her head. “I got a gift certificate. To raffle off.”
She bobs her head up and down a few more times, and it’s so obvious she’s lying. “I’m going to get my things. Wait until you see the trophy we won. It’s so big I had to get help getting it into the car.” She turns abruptly and heads out the door.
Nicki flops onto the couch and buries her face in her hands. “Oh. My. Freaking. God!”
I jump up and rush to Luke. “My mother was at your house? Do you know what this means?”
His eyes light up and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am—she was there asking questions about Remy!
“She believes you,” he says. “Or—”
“Or wants to,” I say, finishing his sentence.
“People!” Nicki snaps. “Can we please talk about what just happened instead of whether or not your mother got a psychic consultation along with her freaking gift certificate?”
“Sorry,” I say. “I was just thinking her visiting Luke’s was a good sign.”
“A very good sign!” Luke adds. “If I explain the circumstances, maybe Nona will tell me what went on.”
“Oh my God, that would be great, and it would totally help us figure out the next step, and—”
“People!” Nicki yells again.
I turn to see Nicki staring at us in utmost disbelief, her jaw clenched in anger. “You brought me here to test out Luke’s ghost power—which, to be really honest, I’m wishing hadn’t worked—and now you’re acting like I’m not even here!”
Fresh tears tumble down Nicki’s cheeks and I feel like an absolute creep.
“Why was Remy all freaked out?” Nicki asks. “Why did she say those things?”
I sit down next to Nicki and take her hands. “I don’t know why Remy said those things, but she’s being doing this a lot lately and that’s why we’re trying to help her move on.”
Nicki’s right eye twitches. “I think that’s a very good idea.”
I wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry we didn’t warn you, but I thought if you knew how bad Remy was, you’d never agree to be our guinea pig.”
Nicki lets out a short sob. “Yeah, you’re right about that, but I’m sorry too. Sorry I didn’t believe you, and that you’ve had to face this alone all these years.”
Mom starts kicking the front door and Luke runs over and opens it. She walks in with two bags hanging over her shoulder, struggling with a trophy that’s at least four feet tall.
“Here, let me help you.” Luke grabs the trophy and she drops the bags to the floor.
She puffs out her cheeks and exhales loudly. “Thanks! Is this to die for or what?” she asks, pointing to the trophy.
After hearing Remy’s rant, the “to die for” reference is taking on a different meaning for us. I’m also thinking the trophy is just a hunk of craptacular plastic, but we all smile appreciatively at it. What else can we do?
Mom pats the gold figures of a dog and a person. “Meg, would you mind taking this to the trophy room? I’m wiped out and need to get cleaned up and ready for bed. And it’s late, you two, I think it’s probably time to head home.”
Nicki nods. “I’ll come over in the morning so we can talk some more.” She looks at me with such pain in her eyes, I feel guilty I brought her into this mess.
“Okay.”
“Do you need a ride?” Luke asks Nicki.
“You know, even though my house is just a block away, walking in the dark doesn’t sound very appealing right now.”
Luke takes his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll call you,” he says to me.
“Okay. And, Luke, thanks.”
“No problem.”
When the door shuts, I walk over and pick up the trophy with a grunt. It’s a lot heavier than it looks.
“Can you manage it?” Mom asks.
“Sure thing,” I say, chipper as always in the face of unnerving Remy stuff.
I hoist it up, lean it against my shoulder, and head to the trophy room. Ten years ago that was Dad’s office. His stuff is still there, but a lot of it has been pushed aside and boxed up in a corner to make way for all the freestyle crap Mom’s accumulated over the years.
It’s ironic that she can tenaciously hang on to the hope tha
t Dad will wake up but at the same time totally take over his space. And this was his space—he made it clear the study was “Daddy’s room.” But maybe the trophy room is where Mom can be honest with herself, even if she can’t admit it.
I flip on the light and take in the room. Most of Dad’s nonfiction books, the ones about raising chickens and organic gardening—for the farm he dreamed about retiring to—are shoved aside to make room for the trophies that dominate the shelves.
The desk is where it’s always been, complete with family photo. I pick up the picture and look at our smiling faces. Remy and me with matching braids and outfits. It feels like a lifetime ago.
I grunt again and hoist the trophy up onto the desk. I see a file labeled MEDICAL INFO on the desk. It must be the one Mom was going through this morning.
I open the folder and look at a page of incomprehensible MRI results. Why can’t they put this stuff in terms we can all understand?
I shake my head and turn the report over. The next page is blood work results. I continue flipping through pages, and my heart revs up as I see one labeled ADVANCE DIRECTIVES.
If I, Jim Sones, should have an incurable or irreversible condition with no hope for recovery, I choose the following:
I scan the rest of the page.
—tube feeding No
—antibiotics for infections No
—being transferred to a hospital for treatment No
—artificial nutrition No
—hydration No
—pain medication Yes
Oh my God! She knew he wouldn’t want to be hooked up to all those machines, but she did it anyway. All these years Remy has been waiting for Dad because Mom refused to honor his wishes!
I snatch the paper up and storm back into the family room.
“Mom?”
“Upstairs!”
I race up the stairs to her room.
“How could you do it?” I ask, thrusting the paper at her.
She peers down at the paper, and I’m stunned when she looks back up at me calmly. “Because there’s always hope.”
“Hope? It’s been ten years! I’ve read the research and I know you have too. The longer someone is in a persistent vegetative state, the less their chances are of ever recovering!”
Mom sits on her bed. “But there’s still a chance. I love your father and I’m not about to give up on him.”
“This isn’t about giving up on him; it’s about the fact that all this time you’ve had a will that clearly states Dad wouldn’t have wanted to live like this—if you can even call it living. Have you looked at him lately? Really looked at him? Do you honestly believe he would have wanted this?
“And what about Remy? What did Mrs. Amador tell you about her? And don’t bother denying that’s why you really went there.”
Mom looks away from me and breathes deeply. “Mrs. Amador said Remy was looking for something.” A tear rolls down her cheek.
I sit down on the bed next to her and hold the living will in front of her. “She’s looking for Dad. You need to do the right thing for both of them.”
“I just can’t, Megan.” Her shoulders shake, and part of me wants to hug her, but it’s been years since we’ve embraced and I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Remy’s in a lot of pain, Mom. She needs Daddy.”
Mom gets up, walks to her dresser, and pulls a few tissues out of the box.
“Promise me you’ll think about it, okay?” I ask.
She nods and I stand up.
“I thought I heard her yesterday—after you left.”
I freeze. “What?”
“I was combing my hair and thought I heard Remy reciting the star light, star bright poem. Remember you used to say that at night, the two of you?”
My heart pounds. “Oh my God, Mom, that was Remy. It was her—you heard her! You have to believe me now.”
I look at Mom, red nosed and clutching the tissue. I hold my breath.
“That’s why I went to the Amadors’,” she says. “I thought I was going crazy, but you seemed so adamant that she was really here. I had to find out.” She shakes her head. “Mrs. Amador couldn’t get her to appear, though.” Her face crumples into tears.
I sit back on her bed. “Remy was with me today—at the park.”
Mom sits next to me and clutches my hands tightly. “Why can’t I see her?”
“You can. Luke can help you.” I hold out my arms. She leans into me sobbing, and we’re hugging for the first time in years.
“Megan, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I think I’ve always known Remy was still here, but I just couldn’t bare the thought of my little baby not being at peace. I couldn’t face it, and I ended up hurting you in the process, and I’m so, so sorry.”
She cries harder, and I hug her tighter. “There’s only one way for her to be at peace.”
Mom nods, and for the first time, I feel hopeful this nightmare might finally be ending.
THIRTEEN
Oh my God, she heard her?” Nicki asks, and then she blows on her coffee. “So that means she believes you about Remy, right?”
I take a bite of the cinnamon bagel Nicki brought over this morning and wiggle my toes under Fergus, who’s curled up on the floor below me. “It looks that way, and she didn’t even threaten to send me to Dr. Macardo. Really, there’s no other explanation for the weird things that have happened over the years. I actually have to give her credit for holding out so long. I mean, how do you explain pictures and knickknacks launching themselves across the room if not for a ghost?”
Nicki nods. “I’m having a hard time imagining anyone rationalizing that.”
“According to my mother, we’ve had a lot of earthquakes over the years, but maybe hearing Remy and knowing all the weird shit happened despite the absence of seismic activity made it easier to believe. Luke thought that since Remy’s totally agitated about things, she’s using more energy to make contact and that’s what made it possible for my mom to hear her. Someone at Land of Enchantment did too. I doubt that girl will set foot in Hansel and Gretel’s Haunted Forest ever again.”
Nicki lets out a long breath. “This is all just so mind-blowing—first Remy and now the will. How are you keeping it together? I mean, I only saw Remy once and I’m still shaken—I hardly slept at all. I kept hearing her shouting, ‘She’s gonna die,’ over and over in my head.”
“I don’t have a choice. At least the ‘she’s gonna die’ stuff happened a long time ago, maybe even at the site where Land of Enchantment is now. The day of my interview Remy showed me the victim, and after that it’s been one freak-out after another with her.”
Nicki looks sick and covers her mouth. “Oh, God.”
“I’ll spare you the details.”
“Thanks, but do you think Remy’s going to keep at it until she can be with your dad?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Would a judge uphold the will if your mom was fighting it?”
“I think so. I stayed up late and read about a lot of similar cases online. If there’s a will, the hospitals have to honor it or pay a kick-ass settlement when they get sued.”
“Wow. This is a lot to process!” Nicki sits up and faces me on the couch. “Let’s move on to something a bit cheerier, shall we? What’s the deal with you and Luke?”
I look at her with her eyebrows raised expectantly. “There’s no deal, he’s helping me with Remy.”
“Uh, that’s not the feeling I got last night.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when he drove me home he asked how long you and Ryan have been going out. He tried to make it sound like he was just making conversation, but it’s so obvious the guy is hot for you, and I was just wondering if it’s mutual.”
My cheeks redden. “He doesn’t, and it isn’t. But …”
“But?”
I sigh. I so didn’t want to go here, not after all of the complaining I’ve done about Samantha. “Okay, if I’m be
ing completely honest, I have been kinda thinking about him a lot. I keep telling myself it was just because he’s helping me with Remy, but …”
“But?”
“But he sends shivers up my spine every time he touches me.” I bury my face in my hands. “I’m really, really confused.”
Nicki laughs and I look up. She gives me a sly smile and an I-knew-it look. “The really confusing thing is why your boyfriend hangs around with a girl who’s made it abundantly clear she’s in love with him. If Ryan is serious about you, he should’ve cut Samantha loose a long time ago. As it is, he’s leading her on, and frankly, it’s kinda cruel.”
“Actually, Samantha hooked up with a Land of Enchantment exchange student from France yesterday.” The squirmy feeling I got when Ryan tried to shoot down Samantha’s budding romance with Christophe returns.
Nicki scoffs. “That doesn’t change the fact that Ryan’s been a complete dickhead about the whole thing.”
I nod. “You’re right, and I hate to admit it, but it was pretty obvious he wasn’t happy about her hooking up.” My shoulders slump. “Seriously, you should’ve seen him—he kept trying to talk her out of it and warning her about the evils of France.”
Nicki’s lip curls up. “See, this is what I’m talking about! It’s beyond ridiculous to put up with that crap.”
“To be fair, I don’t think he truly gets why it’s a problem, and he tried really hard to make things up to me the other night. He brought over movies and Chinese, and yesterday he told me he got us dinner reservations at the White Mountain Hotel to celebrate our one-month anniversary tonight. I know he cares, and I care about him too. It’s just that, no matter what, Samantha is hovering all the time.”
“And there’s Luke.”
I hang my head.
“Look,” Nicki continues. “I’m not saying Ryan doesn’t care; obviously he chose you over Samantha. But do you really need a guy who comes with his own groupie? Why get all angsty about it if there’s someone else who sends shivers down your spine?”
“But how do I know what I’m feeling for Luke isn’t just a result of the empath stuff?”
Nicki hunches her shoulders. “Huh?”
“His family, they’re empaths—you know, they can take away your pain, make you feel better just with a touch.”
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