Oh, well. Kai and I were fine with eating late. We just stuffed our faces with store-bought cookies. Kind of like hors d’oeuvres.
My mom got jittery trying to stuff the turkey super-fast. I could see her hands shaking. With her hands covered in butter and trembling, she tried to lift the turkey up off the counter and put it in a roasting pan. The entire turkey slipped out of her hands. It went flying across the counter like it was trying to take flight, landed on the kitchen floor and went careening across it. Kai and I screeched. We covered our mouths with our hands. We just stared at the bird making a run for it, its goose-pimply flesh all shiny and slippery with buttery.
At that point, my mom got real calm. She just marched over to the turkey, picked it up with determination and plopped it back down onto the counter. She wiped it with a clean wet cloth and announced, “Five-second rule.”
Technically, it had been a lot more than five seconds. I told myself, Maybe it’s like how many minutes you have to cook a turkey per pound that it weighs. Maybe a fat 20-pound turkey gets more than five seconds on the floor before you can’t eat it. I knew that was a lie, but I had to tell myself something to not get queasy at the thought of eating my first homemade turkey dinner.
Kai and I started laughing hysterically. I don’t exactly know why. But the whole thing had been really funny. The fat little butterball making a run for it. My mom chasing after it and invoking the five-second rule. I have to admit that was pretty darn humorous.
It wasn’t long before the entire house smelled like seasoned stuffing and buttery chicken. It was one of the most amazing things I had ever smelled.
After she cleaned up the kitchen, my mom said she had a surprise.
It turned out to be puzzles and a couple of board games. At first, I thought that might be lame. But it turned out to be fun.
Truth be told, we were already primed for fun after the turkey incident; but working on putting a puzzle together and playing board games took my mind off all my problems. It put me in a safe, protected bubble. Everything else fell away except for that moment.
When my mom first showed me the puzzles, I took her aside. One of the puzzles was a basket of kittens. All I could think of was Kai’s Aunt Doli as the little black cat with the red arrow shape on her head. I told my mom, “Kai’s cat died right before her mom was killed. I don’t think a kitten puzzle is a great idea right now.”
My mom said, “Oh my God, no. I had no idea. I’ll go put it in my room. We’ll work on the other one.”
The other one was penguins ice-skating on a pond, each one wearing a different color scarf. It was cute and funny and reminded us of Christmas.
After we worked on the puzzle for a while—that one was hard, with all the white and gray pieces for ice and snow!—we decided to play Clue, Doctor Who version.
I picked River Song for my character and the Sonic Screwdriver for my playing piece. My mom decided to be Jenny. She looked at the Hallucinogenic Lipstick for a few seconds; then put it down and picked The Moment. Kai decided to be Amy and Rory, which weirdly enough served as a single character, and picked the Vortex Manipulator for her playing piece.
We laughed and yelled a whole lot during the game. My mom had no idea who Doctor Who or the Daleks were. Kai and I explained every detail as we went along. We decided we’d introduce my mom to the show right after dinner.
All through the game—through all our wild and crazy throwing of the dice that sometimes went skittering across the coffee table and onto the floor, through all the bad cards and good cards (I was dealt a lot of bad ones!) and all the twists and turns in figuring out whose mind was being controlled by the Daleks to kidnap the Doctor, what weapon they had used and where the Doctor had been kidnapped—my mom kept hopping up to check on the turkey, stir the gravy, boil and mash the potatoes, and eventually pop some frozen vegetables into the microwave. A couple of hours into it, our trailer home started smelling like sheer Heaven ... if Heaven were the kind of place where Thanksgiving dinner dreams come true.
After the buzzer on the oven went off and my mom had checked to see that the temperature popper had indeed popped, we abandoned our job of rescuing Doctor Who. We made a beeline for the kitchen. I set the table. Kai went to the refrigerator, pulled out the cranberry sauce and the drinks: non-alcoholic sparkling apple cider, ice water and Diet Coke.
My mom said, “So far, so good. Now I have to figure out a couple of things. How do you slice a turkey and how do you bake biscuits that come in a can?”
Kai volunteered to make the biscuits. My mom set about finding an electric knife in our cupboards, then paging through cookbooks for directions on how to use it on the turkey.
I shrieked when Kai unexpectedly bashed the can of biscuits onto a counter edge and the thing basically exploded. She laughed like crazy. “Ha! Ha! Ha! Exploding biscuits! That’s the weapon used to kidnap Doctor Who!”
Her sense of humor was infectious. We all giggled.
Peeling one doughy disk after another from the ruptured can, Kai placed them carefully on a cookie sheet, then slid that into the oven, setting the timer for thirteen minutes.
Half an hour later, everything was ready. As we sat down at the kitchen table to eat, I didn’t think I could possibly feel any happier.
We passed around the tray of perfectly carved turkey, the basket of biscuits, the cranberry sauce, and bowls filled with stuffing, mashed potatoes and vegetables.
After I tasted my first forkful of turkey, stuffing and gravy, my cell phone rang. My mom said, “Do you have to take that, Shade?”
I looked at the number. It was Gabriella! I said, “I’m sorry, mom. I have to take this call.” To Kai, I said, “It’s Gabriella...”
I was so afraid she had bad news. I said, rather suspiciously, “Hello...”
Gabriella said, “Why, hello, Shade! Happy Thanksgiving!”
Was she just calling to say that? I said, “Yeah, to you, too.”
Gabriella asked, “Have I interrupted anything?”
I said, “Well, we were just sitting down to dinner now, actually.”
Was she lonely? Did she have anyone to share Thanksgiving with?
Gabriella said, “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to let you know that the werewolves and their shapeshifter friends did their job. They rescued Misty! She’s safe now, in Europe. She’ll be brought home by airplane tomorrow.”
Emotion flooded through me. I started sobbing. I moved the phone away from my mouth and let out a shriek. For a brief second of insane relief and joyousness, I forgot my mom and Kai were there.
Back on the phone, I said, “Can I do anything?”
Gabriella said, “Not right now. I’ll let you know when her plane touches down.”
I thanked Gabriella, wished her a happy Thanksgiving and clicked off the phone.
When I turned around, my mom and Kai were staring at me with concern. My mom said, “Are you OK, Shade?” Looking scared to death, Kai asked, “Bad news?”
Wiping my soaking wet cheeks with my sleeve, I struggled to get my voice under control. I said, “No, everything’s fine.” To Kai, I said, “They rescued Misty! She’s coming home tomorrow!”
Kai jumped up from the table. Shrieking, she threw her arms around me and whirled us around the living room. I don’t think either of us had realized until just that moment how much we had expected a bad ending for Misty and how deeply we had been repressing our darkest fears.
Returning to the table, I announced, “We need to make a toast.” To my mother, I said, “We’ll explain it all over dinner.”
Looking concerned, my mother poured each of us a glass of sparkling apple cider. As we lifted up our glasses and clinked them together, I said, “To Misty! And to all the girls who have ever been lost. May you all be found and all have inner peace.”
As we enjoyed the turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes drowned in gravy and the biscuits drenched in butter, I explained everything to my mom. Except for the part about the werewolves and
their shifter friends, of course.
This particular Thanksgiving had become much more than just a gateway to Christmas. It was a special moment in time during which all of us sharing a meal around the table had emotional and meaningful reasons to give thanks. For the first time in my life, Thanksgiving meant something.
CHAPTER 21
I don’t normally spend Black Friday the way most people do. I don’t particularly like shopping. I don’t like malls. I especially don’t like getting squeezed and pushed by crowds. If that’s your sort of thing, fine. Personally, I’d rather curl up in my room painting or drawing in complete and utter silence. But the day after Misty was rescued, I felt like celebrating. And what better way to celebrate than by festooning our house with colorful blinking lights and wreaths and jolly red-cheeked Santas?
I asked Kai if she’d like to go shopping with me for Christmas decorations. She said, “Sure;” but she looked so incredibly depressed about it, I asked her what was wrong. I didn’t get the impression she was that bummed out about malls or crowds or getting things at bargain-basement prices.
She said, “I think I’m ready, Shade.”
Judging by the sadness that had gripped her face and the fact that she was still wearing pajamas, I knew she didn’t mean ready for shopping.
I asked, “For what?”
Kai looked at me for a few seconds. Then she said, “I’m ready to go back to my house and back to where my Aunt Doli’s funeral was held to find them.”
“To find them?” I felt worried. For a moment, I thought she believed they were still alive.
Kai said, “Yeah. I need to know if they’re OK, if they made it to a safe place.”
I held my tongue. I couldn’t think of what to say next. Everything that came to mind felt wrong and hurtful. They hadn’t made it to a safe place. They’d been horribly murdered, both of them.
Kai said, “You’re the ghost whisperer. They might be hanging around, trapped between planes of existence like that little boy, Sam. Maybe they need to say goodbye to me, make sure I’m OK before they can move on. I’ve been really selfish, denying them that, because I couldn’t face going back to where they were killed.” She looked at me as though desperately needing my approval or support.
I relaxed. She hadn’t broken with reality. She knew they were dead. I said, “If you’re ready, we should do this. We could do it today. We’ll think about Christmas decorations later.”
Going out to the kitchen to grab something to eat, I found a note from my mom:
Hey, girls – I went Black Friday shopping. Might not be back until late. If I’m out past dinner, just heat up some leftover turkey dinner. Enjoy!
That was awesome on so many different levels. First, my mom had actually gone out Christmas shopping. For as long as I could remember, her idea of Black Friday was simply blacking out on alcohol and drugs, soon after complaining about slights and indignations from extended family. Second, she’d addressed the note to both me and Kai. In addition to realizing I’d be getting real Christmas gifts this year, I felt that Kai would, too. Kai needed something like that. Otherwise, Christmas was going to be a sinkhole of memories for her, just dragging her down into a place of hopelessness. Third, my mom would be gone for the day, so I didn’t have to explain why I was going over to Kai’s trailer or where I was going after that.
We sat huddled around my laptop watching episodes of Teen Titans while eating bowls of BooBerry cereal. My mom had bought boxes of BooBerry at some discount grocery store right before Halloween. She had no idea that ghosts were real, and they didn’t look anything like the blueberry frosted marshmallow characters swimming around in my milk.
We watched way too many episodes and ate way too many scoops of marshmallow ghosts while we put off something Kai was only barely able to do.
Finally, I said, “We ought to get going.”
Kai said, “Sure. You’re right.”
We both took showers and changed. By then, it was time for lunch.
Finally, after fortifying ourselves with ham and cheese sandwiches plus a few pieces of turkey we pilfered from the plastic-wrapped tray in the refrigerator, we headed off to Kai’s trailer.
Kai unlocked the front door and pushed it open.
The smell hit us first. It was stale and sour and musty. It didn’t smell the way places do when people live there. If you could describe a scent as empty, that would be it. It reminded me that everyone had gone.
When we passed into the hallway, that all changed.
I sensed someone was there. Not a physical someone. I didn’t feel frightened or anything. I just sensed a presence.
Then a new scent took over: the soap and shampoo Kai’s mom used. I never thought about it before. It was always a subliminal thing: the scent of strawberries and vanilla.
Grabbing Kai’s hand, I said, “I sense her. Your mom. Are you ready?”
Kai froze for a second. Then squeezing my hand, she said, “Yeah. I don’t want to keep her waiting any longer.”
I let Kai go first. Stepping into her mom’s room, she flicked on the light.
The image that hit us full-force was that of black and navy blue pieces of clothing strewn across the bed. These were the remains of Kai’s mom searching for something to wear to her sister’s funeral. The same color clothing that all too soon people would need to wear to hers, had it been safe enough to hold another funeral.
Sitting down on the bed, Kai picked up a black silk scarf decorated with white and blue triangles and wrapped it around her neck. Pressing the edges against her nose, she inhaled the scent. In the end, that’s all we have left of people who have passed on, I suppose: a scent and then nothing but cold, inanimate objects.
Kai looked through the clothing. Holding a black skirt against her hips, she said, “I think this would fit me. I should put some of this in a box before someone cleans out the trailer. I could wear some of her stuff. It would remind me of her.”
After putting a bunch of clothing in a pile, Kai went over to a wooden dresser. On top, there was a soapstone box inlaid with what looked like pink and lavender shells in the shape of flowers. Picking up the lid, then dropping it back down so swiftly it went skittering off onto the floor, she folded her arms, leaned against the dresser and wept.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Going over and rubbing her back, I offered her support and silence.
Eventually, she lifted up her head. She opened the lid on a music box. Instead of the usual ballerina pirouetting around inside, there was a tiny faerie with sparkly wings. The music that started playing was otherworldly. I had the sensation of floating among the planets, hearing the spheres sing.
At that exact moment, fog filled a corner of the room, swirling with color.
Kai didn’t seem to notice.
I noticed. It reminded me of something. As distinct shapes began forming inside the cloud, I knew what it reminded me of. Brandon. It reminded me of Brandon.
A line of roses, strung together like Christmas lights, appeared first. Then, in quick succession: snakes, wolves, butterflies and a couple of ravens. As the shape of a woman formed behind them, I realized they were the tattoos of Kai’s mom! The tattoos appeared first, like constellations in the sky. Eventually, Kai’s mom was completely formed, at least to the same degree that Brandon had been. I could see through her, but not completely. She had definite substance, but only to the same degree that thick clouds did. Her long black hair was swept up into a braid and shaved along the temples, just as it had been in life, and she still had hoop earrings lined up along the outside of her ears and a small silver bar through her nose.
I tapped Kai on the shoulder and pointed.
Kai screamed, then went running toward her mom. Apparently running toward her for a hug, she completely disappeared inside the fog. When she became visible to me once again, her mom had an arm around her. She leaned over. Looking warmly and directly into Kai’s eyes, she said, “I was waiting until you were ready for me to appear to you.”
>
Kai started crying. She said, “What do you mean, ready? I missed you every single day. I would have been ready from the second ... from the second...” Kai struggled with the words. “...from the second you died.”
Kai’s mom smiled warmly. She said, “Even now, you’re having a hard time saying that I died. I knew you’d be relieved and happy to see me alive, but I didn’t think you were ready to see me dead. When you came back here looking through my things, I knew you’d accepted that I’d passed on.”
Kai looked at her mom with a kind of amazement. “But you’re here...”
Kai’s mom smiled again. She said, “I’m here, but only in spirit form. My body’s still in the shape of a black bear. Nothing will ever change that. Except time ... Eventually, my body will just be bones, the bones of a bear.”
Kai looked shocked. She said, “Mom!”
Kai’s mom ran a hand over her braid. She said, “You should know how this works, Kai. You may want to visit my grave one day. There is none. Awendela made sure that my body was cremated and placed into an urn. I wanted you to have it. Here...”
Kai’s mom reached into the fog swirling around her and grasped a beautiful glazed pottery urn. All around the circumference were the same animals with which she had tattooed her skin when she was alive. She said, “I appeared to Awendela.” Laughing, she continued. “I thought she was going to jump out of her skin. You know how we Navajo people are, always fearing the dead because we’re afraid they’re going to resent us and come back to hurt us. After she realized I had nothing but good intentions toward her, we had a long talk. I answered as many questions as I could about the afterlife. I don’t know much yet. Right now, I just know I’m supposed to hang around until I know that you’re going to be OK.”
Kai started crying again. In between sobs, she said, “I’m never going to be OK.”
Her mother smiled warmly and ran a hand over Kai’s hair. She said, “Yes, you will. I know you. You’re strong. After we spend some time together and you go through a period of mourning, you’ll be OK. And you know, the Navajo believe in reincarnation. Eventually, I might come back as someone else or as an animal.” She laughed with a hearty sound. “Ha! Wouldn’t it be something if shapeshifters don’t reincarnate after they die because they used up all their shifting power when they were alive?” Seeing the devastated look on her daughter’s face, Kai’s mom said, “I’m only kidding! Shifting and reincarnation are two completely different things.”
Shade and the Skinwalkers Page 26