by Shelly Brown
He studied both of us for only a second before saying, “Sure, why not.”
He walked inside and I went to follow when Tiffany tapped me on the shoulder and whispered. “They still won’t come with me.”
“We’ll come back out and get them after we’re done.”
Tiffany hesitated but followed me as I wound my way through the rooms until I found the waiting area. Pictures lined the walls, and antique doo-dads were displayed under glass here and there. We meandered until I came to a picture of a woman and a large group of children standing in front of the Hacienda. Sketched in white on the bottom were the words, “Heart and Grace Orphanage, 1918.” I called Tiffany over and she studied the faces.
“There they are.” She pointed to a young girl with a large white bow in her hair holding a confused-looking baby in a lacy dress. The boy standing next to them had his hair carefully combed, and was wearing shorts, long socks, and a scarf around his neck that made him look a little like Popeye. They were cute kids. I could see why Tiffany seemed to be getting attached to them. Everyone in the picture seemed to be smiling, at least the ones that weren’t wearing surgeon’s masks.
“Why are they wearing those masks?” Tiffany asked touching the glass over a particularly thin looking girl with curly hair.
“In the paper it said that the masks would keep people from getting that flu that killed the kids’ parents.” I counted seven kids wearing the awkward face coverings, which was a lot since there were probably only forty or fifty kids all together. I looked at Lisette Hurtado’s smile. It seemed genuine. “Lisette looks nice.”
Tiffany nodded. “She does. Why do you think the kids are so afraid of this place?”
But I didn’t have an answer. Tiffany found the next helpful item. Under a Plexiglas cover was some sort of record book or ledger for the orphanage. I made sure we were alone and lifted the cover off so we could flip the pages. The sun came in lower through the windows and I turned the pages faster looking for the children’s names. Pettersen. Pettersen.
“Stop,” Tiffany said and pointed to entries on a page.
Ruby Pettersen, five years old
Patrick Pettersen, three years old
Henry Pettersen, one year old
Adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Knapp of Benicia
They were adopted? All the way in Benicia, too. What were they doing back in Antioch then?
“Henry?” Tiffany said. “Why is the baby named Henry?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the name Henry,” I said as I kept flipping pages.
“Umm, but the baby’s a girl. She wears a dress.” She pointed to the picture.
“I don’t think they made pants for babies back then. Boy and girl babies both wore those dresses.” Something besides poor Henry’s unfortunate outfit had caught my attention. The ledger was filled with adoptions. It was fascinating how many kids were adopted over a three-month span. Adoption after adoption. “How did she get all of her kids adopted so fast?” I wondered aloud.
Immediately the light in the room flickered out, leaving just the dusky sunlight creeping in through the blinds. I had this feeling come over me—like I needed to leave now before something terrible happened. Was it fear? No, more like anger. It mixed with my own panic and produced something ugly.
Tiffany shuddered. “Do you feel that?” She shut the book and put the glass back on top. “Let’s leave. It feels like the White Witch.”
She was right, but it wasn’t the White Witch. I knew the White Witch. This was different.
Chapter 26
Disappeared
Tiffany
The kids!
I ran out of the Hacienda, noticing the gray cloud cover that seemed to come in and block the last bits of warm orange sunset.
“Ruby! Patrick!” I shouted as I made my way around back where I saw them last. There was a big pause before I added. “Henry!”
Who dresses a boy like that?
We rounded the corner and my fears proved true. They were gone. The grassy spot was empty and the way the night was slinking in put weird shadows everywhere. “Where are they?”
“They’re gone?” Justin rubbed his hands together as if to make them warm. “Ugh, that feeling! It’s worse here, isn’t it?”
He was right. I was mad, deeply mad, but the feeling wasn’t my own. My gut said to run away, but I couldn’t abandon the children. “Something happened to them. Something terrible.”
“Oooorrrr,” Justin said, “maybe we did it. Maybe we helped them and now they are gone.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. Not like closure. More like an open wound.” I was worried. Worried and angry—so angry. Where were they? I started to search a few of the trees that lined the property when I saw a faint glow from a bush. I crouched down and peered under. A big sigh escaped my lips. Trembling and huddled, all three kids were squished under the low branches. “There you are. What are you hiding from?”
Then a fathomless scream knocked me out of my squat and onto my backside. I first looked at Justin, who judging by his expression heard it as well. Then I looked back at the grassy spot where the kids were earlier. Standing there was a gray woman in her thirties, with curly hair, a large vintage dress, an open black mouth, and hateful dark eyes.
Lisette Hurtado.
And she was mad.
Chapter 27
When Justin Died
Justin
“Run!” I turned to get out of there, but Tiffany turned back toward the bush. She was going to get the ghost kids.
I looked back at Lisette, trying to think of a way to keep her at bay, but she wasn’t there.
Gone. That fast.
Why had she shown herself only to disappear?
I hurried Tiffany as she quickly coaxed the kids out from under the bush and we all sprinted back down G Street. I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder every several feet.
Though still a few blocks from the Delta, I could hear the water lapping hard against the rocks. The sun was completely missing and the streetlights snapped on as we made our way back home.
Panting from the excitement and the pace we were keeping, I said, “Maybe I can get my sister to drive us to Benicia, where the kids were adopted. We’ll just have to come up with a really good excuse.”
I looked over at Tiffany and she was struggling. I could tell she was holding the baby but it looked like she was holding another child in her other arm. She was unsteady as she walked, and was nervously looking around. “Sounds good.” Her words were coming out staccato. “You work on that. We’ll have to go home tonight until we can figure out more.” Her head and shoulders jerked back. “Ugh, Ruby, you’re choking me.”
I slowed down when I saw how hard it was for her to run.
She said nothing of it but her eyes looked appreciative. “The poor things are still shaking.”
“Are they heavy? I wish I could carry them for you.” Then an idea struck. “I know, I’ll carry you and you carry them.”
She looked doubtful but stopped. I tried to pick her up like you would a baby or a damsel in distress. I didn’t register any extra weight from the children but she was wiggling in my arms, trying to hold on to the children. I took a few steps and almost dropped her as she lunged for an invisible child.
“I’m probably safer walking,” she said as she climbed out of my arms. “Anyways, it’s not so bad.” She motioned for the girl to jump on her back then she started laboriously down the street. “Thanks for trying.”
“Sorry.”
“No.” She chuckled. “It’s the thought that counts.”
Her speed kept slowing down and night crept up faster than I was ready for it. Why did it have to be Wednesday? I thought about breaking out in a full on run, but I couldn’t leave her walking downtown by herself. They were coming and I knew it.
But
I couldn’t abandon my friend. She needed my help and I just needed to come to terms with the fact that I probably wouldn’t get the protection of the sage tonight. It was a night for facing demons. Facing them so that Tiffany Hart didn’t have to do the hard stuff by herself.
She was worth it.
Besides, I felt better focusing on her problems instead of my own. “Why do you think Lisette haunts that place?”
“Ugh, Ruby, you’re choking me again.” She jumped a bit then kept walking. “Maybe she died there.”
“But that’s not enough,” I said. “A ghost haunts a place for a reason. They were murdered and need justice. They had an improper burial. They’re protecting something. They have unfinished business.”
“But the kids were adopted. What do they have to do with that place anymore?” She sounded really winded. “I’m going to need to take a rest.” She plopped on the curb and proceeded to remove invisible children off of her. Once they were all off, she pulled her inhaler out of her pocket and played with it in her fingers like she was debating whether to use it or not.
Stopping made me so nervous I didn’t dare sit. I leaned against the lamppost and looked out at the empty street.
The cloud cover made it hard to tell but I could sense it was night. I wouldn’t hear my demon’s coming so I had to look for them. At first I didn’t see anything but then I caught a glimmer of an image. A mangled car, right in front of me. Just for a moment.
What intersection were we at?
I looked up at the sign above my head. G Street and 6th.
Of all the places to be standing at dark on a Wednesday.
The wind blew uncomfortably strong over the water and down the narrow street. I turned my head away from the dusty musty breeze and saw them coming. Hand in hand, jittery disoriented. Disappearing and reappearing so quickly they looked like cells missing from a movie reel.
Despite the rising fear in me, I couldn’t stop looking at them. “Let’s go.”
Without even taking her head out of her hands, Tiffany responded, “Give me a minute. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but ghosts are heavy. How are they so solid and so transparent?”
The two of them stopped five or so feet from me and just stared. Him—tall, in jeans and a button down with a sweater vest. Her—rivaling his height, dark hair kinky and long, wearing her burial dress. These same two apparitions had haunted me weekly for years and although I knew I deserved it, I couldn’t help but curse fate.
My head started to hurt for lack of oxygen, but I was afraid if I opened my mouth I might yell, crying out in horror, or misery, or both.
The mangled car flashed between us and I gasped in fear, giving my burning lungs some much needed relief.
When the car disappeared so did my parents.
In my mind I could see them the moment I came to. I was tiny again. Nine years old. From where I was, stuck in the backseat, I saw my father’s face but only my mother’s legs. I heard her groan in pain but then she went silent. I could smell the gas, rubber, blood.
The crash was just a memory but I was certain I could smell it around me as I stood there waiting for Tiffany.
I couldn’t stay there.
I turned to start walking, Tiffany just would have to catch up.
I didn’t get one step in before my parents appeared again, inches from me. Even though I had seen them last Wednesday when Tiffany needed my help, it had been a long time before that. I had been faithful with my sage and managed to keep them away. But here they were.
Sad.
Piercing me with their eyes.
And I was trapped.
I guess that’s what you deserve when you kill your parents.
The ghost with my mother’s eyes reached out and touched my head and a yelp escaped my lips as I backed away.
“What’s the matter?” Tiffany was immediately beside me, bouncing invisible Henry in her arms.
“You ready?” I asked. “Let’s go.” I walked out into the middle of the road to cross it.
“Why did you yell like that?” Tiffany said following as fast as she could. I sped up. “Justin, watch out!”
A car had made a right turn onto G Street and didn’t see me crossing in the dark. It blared its horn and swerved.
Someone pulled me back by my shoulders, but when I turned around Tiffany was too far away to have done it.
The car passed and some classless teenager put his head out the window and yelled cuss words at me.
My heart was in my throat.
I had almost died.
Here.
Again.
Things hit my mind harder than I was ready for them.
It all felt so real. The sound of screeching tires, crunching metal, shattering glass. Then seeing the car from the outside. Crushed like a soda can.
I saw my car from the outside. I know I did.
And it was so calm.
I had been dead.
It took me years to understand that and I never told a single person. It was too fantastical, too unbelievable to talk about. Everything felt so clear. I was free of any other thoughts than what was happening at that very moment. And there was no pain, no fear. Life was simple. Just standing there looking at the cars. I closed my eyes, savoring the peace, and when I opened them again I was in the car. Back in my body.
Shocking doesn’t even come close to describing the change between the two. My body ached and throbbed and stabbed all at the same time. My brain swam in murky water, too overwhelmed by my senses to form clear thoughts. Nothing was processing right. And it was all my fault.
I remembered it all. I felt it all. The pounding pain in the back of my head, the way my chest felt like a giant had pinched my ribs between its fingers. The burning smell and the warmth of the blood covering my hands. The screaming of the woman in the other car. The crying of the witnesses trying to get help.
Then, like being pulled from a dream, my father’s face was right in front of me his hands on my shoulders. But it wasn’t his face. Not really. It was gray and I could see right through it. His brows were crinkled as if he was focusing on reading my thoughts. I covered my face with my hands and I felt my legs go out from under me. I hit the concrete pretty hard with my knees.
I was back in my memory. I didn’t want to be back. My father was motionless. There was no rise and fall of breath. He was dead and I knew it for a long time before the emergency crew arrived. It was my fault. All my fault. I was relieved when I heard my mother groan but then her silence told me she too was gone. I wanted to cry. I knew I should be crying but I couldn’t. I had no tears in me. The pain stole them from me. The pain in my head. The pain in my chest. Mostly the pain in my heart.
My hands—my real hands—felt wet, warm. Tears poured from my eyes. I didn’t know when I had started and I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to stop. The tears I hadn’t cried at the scene of the accident or at the funeral. Tears I had stopped crying years ago silently spilled down my cheeks.
“Oh my gosh, Justin, what’s wrong?” I felt Tiffany’s hand on my back. “Are you hurt?”
Embarrassed I wiped my eyes. “I’m . . .” But I still didn’t have the words. I jumped to my feet, my knees aching. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I didn’t want to feel anything. “Let’s go.”
As I walked, I could see my ghost parents following right beside me. They weren’t going to leave me alone. Why should they? This was the karma I deserved. The tears kept leaking down my face but I ignored them.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tiffany watching me. Without saying anything she just reached out and rubbed my back a little while we kept walking.
Chapter 28
Kissing Research
Tiffany
Justin was exceptionally quiet on the walk home. The tears stopped before we reached our street and by the time w
e parted ways he even smiled at me.
“Stay safe.”
I shifted Henry in my arms. “I will.”
It wasn’t until I reached my front door that my stomach sunk like a rock.
I was in so much trouble. I handed Henry to Ruby and turned the knob.
“Tiffany Angela Hart!” My father was sitting on the couch next to the window. “You are double grounded, young lady.”
My mom came running out of the kitchen wiping her wet hands on her jeans. “Oh baby, you’re home!” She wrapped her warm arms around me. “I’m so sorry about today. I made you some lemon bars.”
“Lemon bars?” My dad sounded bothered. “Lemon bars? She comes in late after being out with that neighbor boy all day and you made her lemon bars?”
My mom pulled me by the hand into the kitchen and sat me at the table. “Jessica came over a little while ago and told me everything. Oh, you must have been crushed. One time I lost the Hall Monitor position in a fifth grade vote and I thought that all of my friends had betrayed me.” She pulled two glasses out of the cupboard. “I would have made a wonderful Hall Monitor. Milk?”
She filled the glasses. The children gathered around my feet, too afraid to wander far.
My dad had followed us in and sat across the table. “You were supposed to come right home after school, I’ll have you know.”
My mom served us both huge lemon bars. Way bigger than my tummy was going to be able to handle after such an eventful night. She petted my hair as I took tiny bites. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry. You seem to be doing better than I would be.”
“What were you and Justin doing?” My dad said, leaning in towards me and licking lemon off of his thumb.
My mother got quiet as well. You could hear the fridge humming. I didn’t know what I was going to say but I opened my mouth. “Research.”
“Kissing research?” my dad said.
I recoiled. “That has to be one of the nastiest things I have ever heard you say.” I pushed my lemon bar aside. “History research. Can I go to bed now?”
Both my mother and my father responded at the same time.