For Always

by Janae Mitchell

"Nothin'," she said, shaking her head. "Maybe you should go on and introduce yourself. I think he's waitin' outside for ya."

  "I will after I eat. My stomach's eating itself." I cleaned my plate while Grandmama cleaned up the kitchen. I was stuffed. "That was scrumptious," I sang.

  "Thank ye."

  "You're such a country bumpkin," I kidded her. "I must've been adopted."

  "No, you just hold your tongue better than I do. When I open my mouth, I just let my words roll on out. Bumpkinese is easier than talkin' all proper." She smiled, stood up straight, and removed her country accent as she said, "But I can talk proper if and when I so choose. Shall I continue to harness the country girl that resides within’"—she relaxed her body and waved her arms around—“or let her run loose, a hootin' an' a hollerin'?" She laughed at herself and looked at me over her glasses again. "I think someone has been waitin' patiently for ya outside. So stop procrastinatin' and get out there, young lady."

  I had to laugh. "Bumpkinese?" She smiled and waved her hands at me like she was sweeping me out the door. "I'm going." And I was . . . slowly. I had to admit, I was a bit nervous.

  I saw him as soon as I walked into the sunroom. I was kind of hoping that he wouldn't be out there. It's like walking up to one of the cute guys at school and introducing yourself, hoping that he would be glad you did. Maybe I should've eaten after I met him. I felt like I was gonna puke, but I opened the door and walked out onto the porch anyway. He was sitting in the far swing and immediately stood up when he saw me. As I got closer to him, he stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled.

  "It's nice to finally meet ya, ma'am," he said as he slightly nodded his head. That smile and those eyes made me feel like the clouds had parted, letting the sun hit me full force with an instant rush of heat. I hated blushing.

  He's dead, Malyn, he's dead! Snap out of it! "It's nice to meet you, too." I couldn't keep myself from smiling. "My name is Malyn." I felt awkward just standing there, so I went around him and sat down on the swing he had been sitting in.

  "My name is Beau. Beau Brogan. Ya can hear me, too, right?"

  "Yes." I still couldn't stop smiling.

  "Mind if I sit?" he gestured toward the swing next to me.

  "No, go right ahead." I thought I would feel freaked out having a ghost sit next to me, but I didn't.

  "So, ya see dead people, huh?" he asked with a crooked smile that only showcased one dimple.

  I laughed. "This is so strange," I admitted. "Yes, I do. I usually ignore them, though."

  "So ya snub dead people?"

  I could tell he was just teasing me, but I felt the need to explain myself. "No, I'm not like that. I just don't want to look like a nutter talking to someone who isn't there." I stopped and waited on his reply, but he didn't say anything. He was just looking out into the yard. I hoped I hadn't offended him. "See, when I was little, I could see people that nobody else could see. On more than one occasion I was caught talking to them and people would make fun of me—me and my imaginary friends. Over time, I learned to tell the difference between the dead and the living. Most spirits don't realize I can see them, so unless I acknowledge them, they ignore me. It's usually better that way."

  "Livers," he said out of the blue, shaking his head.

  "What?"

  "Livers. That's what I call, well, people like yourself. I'm a goner, you're a liver." He was smiling, but his eyes held a sadness that I knew I would never understand. He never took his eyes off of mine, so I finally looked down at my feet. He forced a chuckle. "I just thought it was funny, especially since I hate liver."

  "So you don't like people?"

  He looked like he was thinking about something, then shook his head and smiled. "Not since I died"—he looked at me—"'til now." He was really gonna have to quit doing that or my heart might stop.

  I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I let it out to talk. "Grandmama is eager for me to find out who you are. I think she's worried about you."

  "Nellie? Why'd she be worried 'bout me? I'm dead."

  "Well, she said she can tell you're sad. And nobody's allowed to be sad around her, trust me."

  He was quiet for a bit, so I waited patiently. After a couple of minutes he turned to look at me. It's like his eyes were lighting a fire inside me.

  Look away! I yelled at myself. But I couldn't. I wondered if he could feel it, too.

  "I used to be sad. Didn't realize I still was, I don't guess." He dropped his head, not looking at anything in particular. "I died in 1910. We'd just got back from the fields when we heard Ma screamin'." He paused for a minute, like it was hurting him just to talk about it. "We ran out back and realized that the river was floodin'. All Ma kept yellin' was 'Thomas! Thomas!’, who was my eight year old brother. She was so frantic that I knew that the river had got him. I ran to the bank and saw him holdin' onto a tree branch, ready to be washed away at any minute. I didn't even think, I just jumped in." He looked off toward the river and shook his head. "The water was risin' and movin' so fast. I remember grabbin' him and pullin' him up on the branch and tryin' to push him onto the bank. He was kickin' and fightin' to get out. Then he kicked my hand, causin' me to lose my grip. The water had me then and took me under. I tried to resurface, but somethin' was holdin' me down. I was stuck and couldn't get loose." Beau got up and walked to the edge of the porch so his back was to me. "The next thing I remember was standin' on the bank next to Ma. Thomas was layin' in her arms coughin' and she was cryin' harder than I'd ever seen. Then I heard some commotion behind me. When I turned around, I saw Pa carryin' my body. James, my other brother, was behind him cryin'. Pa sat down next to Ma, with my body in his arms, and started wailin'."

  I didn't realize it, but I was crying. I tried to wipe the tears so he wouldn't see. He was so lost in his past, I wasn't sure if he even remembered I was there. But at that moment he turned and looked at me. When he saw me crying, he came and kneeled down in front of me.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset ya."

  "Don't be sorry," I said, wiping my eyes. I hated what he was saying, but I wanted to know more. "Did you realize that you were dead?"

  "I knew somethin' wasn't right," he said with a grin, trying to lighten the somber mood he had set. He got up from in front of me and sat back down on the swing. "I knew if Pa was cryin' that it was bad. I'd never seen him cry before. And seein’ him hold me like that…” He shook his head. “I tried gettin' their attention, but I couldn't. I had to watch Ma grieve over me every day, even though I was right there," he painfully recalled, taking a deep breath. "So, one day I let her know I was there and that I was okay. It took every ounce of strength I had, but it was worth it. She seemed a bit more…at peace with it all after that."

  "How? How did you let her know you were there?"

  "She was sittin' on my bed holdin' my blanket, which she did a lot after I died. I sat down next to her, but she didn't feel it. So I tried to focus on what it was I wanted to do, and gathered all my love for her—" He raised his hand and held it over my knee as he shut his eyes for a few seconds, and then he lowered his hand and touched me. I jumped, which made him jump.

  I looked at him, shocked. I had never been touched by a ghost before. I was impressed that he was able to do that. And then I realized that he had done that to his mother.

  "Oh my word. What did she do?"

  "Well, she reacted a lot like you did." He laughed and shook his head. "She 'bout jumped outta her skin." His laugh faded and he looked down again. "Then she hugged my blanket tighter to her and started to cry, but it was a different cry. She was cryin' and smilin' at the same time." A proud smile came across his face. "She knew it was me. She whispered 'I love ya, Beau' and I put my arm around her. She didn't feel it, though, so I used the last bit of strength I had and tried to squeeze her as hard as I could." He looked as if he could still feel her. "I knew she had felt it ‘cause she leaned toward where I sat and lifted her hand up and rubbed her shoulder where my arm was. Then she sm
iled, covered herself up with my blanket, and laid down in my bed"—he threw his arms up—"and fell asleep.” He dropped his arms back down and his face softened. “It's like she hadn't rested in so long, but now she could."

  I was quiet, taking in all he had just shared with me. "That’s so sad."

  "I know it's not the greatest story to hear, but it's mine. So, now ya know."

  I nodded. "Now I know." We continued to swing for a while, just enjoying the breeze. So many thoughts were racing through my head. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Sure."

  "When you touched my knee…?" On second thought, maybe I should keep that question to myself.

  He raised his eyebrows at me, prompting me to finish my question. "When I touched your knee. . . ?" He was grinning that crooked grin again, like he enjoyed seeing me squirm.

  "When you touched my knee, did you feel it, too?"

  His grin became a beaming smile. "Yes, ma'am, I sure did."

  "Have you done that a lot? Touched…livers?" He laughed at my use of his term.

  He shook his head. "Only a few times. First with Ma, then I poked a lady to scare her—"

  "You did not!" I interrupted him, but then had to laugh at the thought. "That wasn't nice."

  "I know. Now, as I was sayin'…I poked a lady and her husband. And the only other person I've touched besides them is you."

  "Well, I feel special."

  His eyes fell upon me once again. "Ya are."

  Oh, mercy. I stood up and walked to the edge of the porch. When I looked back to see if Beau followed me, he was still sitting in the swing staring at me. Breathe, Malyn, breeeeathe. I looked out toward the river, trying to think of something else to say.

  "How old were you when you…died?"

  "Nineteen." He was still swinging.

  "So, what do you do all day?" That came out a little rude, so I tried to rephrase it. "Are you able to go anywhere or anything like that?"

  "No, I can't go far from here. That's why I didn't go with my family when they left. Pa died a few years after I did, and my Ma had to pack up and move closer to her family. But I was stuck here." He got up and walked out into the yard in front of me.

  "Can you move stuff? Because when you sat down on the swing with me, I didn't really feel you move it."

  "Nope, I didn't. To move things, I have to focus on it really hard and it seems to wear me out. It's weird, really. I can sit in a chair, but I can also go through it, which takes a little more effort."

  I walked out into the yard with him and we started to walk toward the river. He suddenly reached his arm out in front of me and I ended up walking through it. "Well, that was…different." It felt like someone had rubbed a balloon on their hair and touched me with it.

  "Yeah, it's an odd feelin', alright. Thought ya might like it," he teased. Then he stopped walking, so I did, too. "Hold your hand out." I did. "Okay, I don't have the strength to touch ya, so I won't do that again…just yet." He shot me a grin that made me blush, which I was getting used to. He put his hand into mine—literally inside my hand. "This is how I communicate with Nellie. It takes less outta me than actual contact does. This is what happens when I don't try to do anything at all. Do ya feel anything?"

  "Not really. It just tingles a little." I tried not to look into his eyes, just kept looking at our hands.

  “Yeah, that’s all I feel, too.”

  I made the mistake of looking at him and his face was right above mine—close. Too close. We just stared at each other for a few seconds. I pulled my hand back and started to walk again, but he didn't. I stopped and looked at him to see what he was doing.

  He was looking at me with his brows furrowed. "What do ya see when ya look at me?"

  I walked back to where he stood. "What do you mean?"

  "When ya look at me, what do ya see? I know ya said we look like livers do, so I assume ya can't see through me." Looking back toward the house and not at me, he asked, "Do I look normal to ya?"

  "Do you want to know if you look like you did when you were alive?"

  He looked back at me and nodded.

  "You have dark hair…that could use a trim." He smiled and ran his fingers through it. "Your skin looks tanned and smooth…and your eyes remind me of blue diamonds—they're beautiful." Did that just come out of my mouth? By the smile on his face, and the depth of those dimples, it sure did.

  "Well, that's good to know."

  "I’d say you look just like you did when you were alive." Time for a subject change. "Where do you stay? Will you be in the house with us?"

  Still smiling he said, "I'm wherever. If y'all don't want me in the house, I can stay out here. I don’t get cold or hot, so bein’ outside is fine. It's your house now, not mine."

  "It's still just as much yours as it is ours. You're free to come and go as you please."

  He looked up toward my bedroom window, then back at me and smiled. "Really?"

  I imagined him in my room. "Well, there are some limitations. I'm sure Grandmama would want you to abide by the rules that any boy coming in our house would have to abide by."

  "But she can't see me, now, can she?" He teased as he tilted his head down and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. Mercy. Dead or not, he was a flirt.

  "No, but I can," I reminded him as I crossed my arms in front my chest.

  "True." He suddenly became more serious. "I'm glad ya can see me. I've not had a real conversation with anybody in over a hundred years."

  It sounded odd for him to say that, since he still only looked nineteen. I was afraid to open my mouth again, afraid of what might come out. So I just nodded and smiled.

  I heard the door shut and looked up to see Grandmama walking toward us. "So what are y'all doin' out here?" Yep, she was checking up on us.

  "Just talking." I thought a more proper introduction was in order. "Grandmama, this is Beau Brogan." I gestured my hand towards where he stood.

  "Beau. It's nice to have a name to call ya by now," she said, looking toward his feet, which made me laugh. They both looked at me with questioning looks on their faces. "What's so funny?" she asked.

  "I don't know. It's just funny seeing you talk to his feet." Speaking of feet, I turned to Beau and asked, "Why don't you have shoes on?"

  He looked down at his feet like he had never noticed he wasn't wearing any. "Hmm, that's a good question."

  I told Grandmama what he said and we all laughed and headed back toward the house. Beau was the first one to the door, but stopped and gestured for us to go on in. After we opened the door and got in he said, "Tell Nellie that I would've opened the door for her if I could." He was a flirt and a charmer. I told her what he said.

  She nodded and smiled. "I know ya would, Beau. And it's the thought that counts. Thank you."

  Beau sat down in the sunroom looking out the window, and Grandmama headed toward the kitchen. "Well, I'm gonna go up to my room and organize some more stuff. Beau, you're welcome to come up if you get bored." I know I had just gotten up, but I felt drained. He had told me, and showed me, more than I had ever imagined he would. He seemed to be just as tired.

  Grandmama hollered over her shoulder, "I'll be up in a few so you can tell me about Beau, if that's okay with him."

  I looked at Beau and he nodded his head. "Yeah, he said that's fine." I headed on up to my room and got busy. I set up my computer and then organized my closet, which took forever. I wasn't big into fashion, but I did have a lot of clothes. I heard Grandmama coming up the stairs, so I turned my radio off and sat on my bed. I knew we were gonna be here a while, so we might as well get comfy.

  Beau never did come up, which left me a little disappointed. I'm sure it was for the best, though. I had a feeling that whatever was going on between us was gonna become complicated soon enough.

  Chapter 5

  FAMILY

  Malyn

  I hadn't seen Beau since I had left him sitting in the sunroom yesterday. I had assumed that since he was able to talk
to me that he wouldn't leave me alone. I had assumed wrong.

  Grandmama was gone when I got up. She left me a note on the bar saying that she had to go into town and that she would bring us back lunch. I knew she was anxious to try to find out information about Beau, so I figured she’d be at the library and courthouse all morning. I went ahead and poured a bowl of cereal and ate it at the table out on the back porch, hoping to see Beau, but I didn't. I wondered where he was. It wasn't like he could go far.

  I finished my cereal and went back inside. It would be a few more hours until Grandmama got back, so I decided to crank up the stereo that was in the parlor and clean. I was one of those rare teenagers that didn't like dirt. Grandmama kept everything neat and clean, but I knew she would appreciate some help. I ran upstairs to get my mp3 player so I could listen to my own songs, not wanting to be tortured by some of the stuff they played on the radio. I put it on shuffle, turned it up as loud as I could without busting the speakers, and got to work.

  I started in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. That didn't take long at all, so I decided to dust, which would take forever with all the stuff she had collected over the years. I started in her parlor, which was the most…decorated. She had a hutch in the corner covered with pictures, figurines, and books, so I tackled it first. I took everything off and wiped it all down before I returned it to the shelves. I was admiring all of her weird collectables when a book slipped out of my hand and landed on the floor. Some pictures fell out, so I gathered them up to put them back in the book when one caught my eye—it was me. I put the book down and started going through the pictures. One was of Grandmama and Margaret when they were younger, a few of Grandmama on stage at various places, and the rest were pictures of my family—my family.

  I had never seen any pictures of the three of us together. I had asked Grandmama a long time ago why there were no pictures of us and she said, "Well, when your mom died, your dad put 'em all away. It made him sad to look at what he'd never have again." She said she looked for them after he died, but couldn't find them. I doubt she even knew she had these.