She raised up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” She turned to her dad. “I’ll call as soon as I know something.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. And please be careful.”
“I will,” she said as she grabbed Derek’s keys.
Chapter Sixteen
Joe awoke to the sound of voices. He sat up and looked around, listening. They drifted up from downstairs, faint and indiscernible, but most certainly male. He strained to listen but heard no sign of either Ron or Chris. He was about ready to go investigate when a loud thud came from the other end of the attic.
“Ron?” he called.
“Back here!”
He followed her voice and found her rummaging through an old cardboard box. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for something.” She answered him distractedly, her attention focused on moving objects around inside the box.
“Kinda figured that much. What are you looking for?”
She glanced at him briefly and then refocused on the box and its contents. “My mom’s wedding dress.”
Other open boxes sat scattered around her in similar states of disarray. “What for?”
She stopped rummaging and stood up. “For Chris. She and Derek are getting married.”
“What? Since when? Was anyone gonna tell me?”
“Relax, they’re not engaged. Yet. But you know it’s inevitable.”
“The only thing that’s inevitable is dyin’. As you well know. Did you get any sleep?”
“Yeah, I slept. Some. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. I need to do something.”
Joe peered over the stacks of boxes and junk to the light coming through the gabled window at the back. “It’s still early for goin’ out and looking for lost souls to help.”
“Exactly.” She kicked the box she’d been going through with an audible thump. “It’s not in there.” With her hands on her hips, she looked around, then seemed to spy something in a corner. “Here we go. Help me move these boxes.”
Together, they cleared away a stack of boxes, revealing an old wooden chest underneath. They stood back for a moment to admire their handiwork. Then Ron grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss.
“For luck. And a power boost.” She released him and then took hold of the lid and heaved it up. There, neatly folded inside a white box with a clear plastic cover, lay a bundle of white satin and lace. “Bingo!”
“And what’re you planning to do with that?”
“I want to surprise Chris with it whenever she tells me that Derek proposed.” Carefully, she pried the lid off the box and laid it aside. Then, concentrating, she took hold of the dress and held it up, shaking out the folds. She turned it this way and that as she examined the puffy sleeves and ginormous skirt. “I’m thinking my mom was a fan of Princess Diana. But with some alterations, I think it could work. Maybe remove the puffy sleeves and take a lot of fabric out of the skirt. That could be turned into a veil. What do you think?”
Joe only half-heard the question. He was too distracted imagining Ron in that dress, picturing how she’d look walking toward him down a church aisle. “Joe?” she said, and he blinked, realizing she was talking to him. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you’d make a beautiful bride.”
She looked at him a moment, smiling so radiantly it almost broke his heart. Then her smile quivered and crumbled. She dropped the dress. It floated to the floor in a satiny heap. She fell to her knees in the middle of it, her face buried in her hands.
Joe watched all of this in alarm. “What is it? What did I say?”
She choked off a sob and looked up at him. “I’m dead, Joe!”
He gazed down at her in confusion for a moment. Then he lowered himself to the floor beside her and gathered her to him. “I know that, sweetness.”
“I’ll never be a bride!” she sobbed.
“I know.” He said it automatically, trying to console her through commiseration. But then the thought about it and leaned back look at her. “Hold up. Who says?”
She sniffed. “What?”
“Who says you can’t be a bride? Who says we can’t have a weddin’?”
“Joe, we’re dead.” She said it as if explaining it to a small child.
“Yeah, and yet we still watch TV and have conversations with your sister and steal things out of police stations. We make a difference in the lives of the living and the dead, and we already live like husband and wife. So why can’t we have a weddin’?”
She seemed to consider this. But then she looked at the dress, and down at herself, and let out a sad little laugh. “I can’t even change out of the clothes I died in. What kind of wedding would that be?”
“Are you kiddin’ me? With everything you can do with that mind of yours, you’re tellin’ me you can’t even think yourself into a weddin’ dress?” He waved a hand at her clothes, her body, then at himself. “This is all an illusion anyway. Nothing but spirit matter. Who says we have to stay looking like this?”
“Joe…”
“Come on. Give it a try. If anyone can do it, you can.”
She regarded him with no small amount of skepticism, but then obliged him by closing her eyes, her face scrunched up in concentration.
For a long time, nothing happened. And then it did.
Joe’s mouth gaped in wonder as she transformed in his arms. Her shirt and cropped pants disappeared, and in their place, she wore a white gown, simple but elegant. Her hair hung in soft ringlets, strewn with little white flowers. She looked so beautiful that Joe couldn’t find words.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her expression exasperated until she saw the look on his face. “What?”
Struggling to find his voice, he said, “I wish you could see how you look right now.”
“What do you mean?” She looked down at herself and gasped. “Holy—”
“Here,” he said, getting up. He took her hand as she rose to her feet and led her down a path that had been cleared between rows and boxes to a tall piece of furniture wrapped in blankets. He tugged the blankets away to reveal a full-length boudoir mirror. “Come here,” he said, positioning her in front of it.
They both stood before the mirror. They were solid enough to make out their reflections. Although slightly transparent, they both gave off a faint glow. On Ron, in her bridal finery, the glow made her look radiant, like she was full of starlight. She gazed in wonder at her reflection, hope and possibility dawning on her face.
But then she closed her eyes and shook her head, and the illusion faded, returning her to normal.
“You’re right,” she said, her voice full of sadness. “None of this is real.” She turned and looked up at him. “I need to let go of this fantasy and face reality.”
“Now what’re you talkin’ about?”
She sighed. “Joe, you’ve had a whole century to come to terms with being dead. But it’s been a couple of years now for me and I’ve been in denial this whole time. I’ve got to start dealing with it. I’ve got to accept that my life is over.”
“It’s funny you should say that. ‘Cause I spent all those decades trapped in this house, forced to die again and again. It wasn’t until you showed up that this tired existence of mine started to feel something like livin’ again.”
“Joe…”
“Now you listen to me.” He took her by the shoulders. “You’re right. The life you had is over. You’ll never grow old, never have children or grandchildren, never feel the sun on your skin or smell the fresh cut grass on a summer day.”
“Is this supposed to be a pep talk?”
“You’ve got a different kind of life now. Different, but every bit as real. This is real, what you and me have. If you start thinking otherwise, then you might as well go ahead and walk into that light the next time you see it.”
“I have no intention of doing that. Don’t worry.” She covered his hands with her own and sighed. “I guess I need
to properly grieve everything I’ve lost before I can fully appreciate what I’ve gained.”
He pulled her close and wrapped her in his arms. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
She looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. “Just keep being you.”
He smiled back. “I think I can do that.” He kissed her, savoring the sensation. He wasn’t sure how she could feel this and think it couldn’t be called living. But he well remembered the pain of knowing the life you’d planned and hoped for was cut off for good. He hadn’t had anyone to help him through it. He was glad that, at least, she wouldn’t have to go through it alone.
As he held her, he said, “You and me, we’re family. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my wife as sure as if we’d stood up before a preacher and said our I do’s. A pretty dress or a ring or a piece of paper don’t change any of that.”
She sniffed against him. “I know. I feel the same way.”
They held each other a while longer before he remembered the voices he’d heard earlier. “Speaking of family, the whole reason I came looking for you was to tell you that I think I heard your father downstairs.”
She leaned back to look up at him, frowning. “Dad’s here?”
“Sounded like him and Derek down there talking.”
“What about Chris?”
“I didn’t hear her, but that don’t mean she’s not around somewhere.”
Releasing him, she stood back. “I’d better go check this out. You coming?”
“You go on. I’ll take care of your mama’s dress and be down in a minute.”
She glanced over to where the dress still lay in a puddle of satin on the floor and gave him an appreciative smile. “Thanks.” Then she was gone.
Joe made his way back to the dress. He picked it up and held it out, thinking about how Ron had looked in her bridal finery. Suddenly, his heart ached with longing to see her like that again. He might’ve had a long lifetime to get used to being dead, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still pine for the things of the living now and then.
As he folded the dress, he wondered if he could pull off the same trick. Maybe, with practice. But then again, maybe Ron was right, and the whole notion was foolish. He laid the dress back in the chest and smoothed it out carefully before closing the lid, putting any more thoughts of weddings away with it.
She found her dad in the living room. He sat on the edge of the sofa, hunched over with his elbows propped on his knees. He looked around with uncertainty, as though he felt out of place. In spite of this, he looked a little more hopeful than when she’d seen him at the hospital, though he still seemed worried. Ron wondered what had given him hope, and what he was doing there. And where was Chris?
Derek entered the room from the direction of the kitchen. “I called a ride to take me to the mansion so I can pick up Chris’s car. I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour. Will you be okay here?”
“You didn’t need to do that,” her dad said. “I can drive you.”
“Nah, man, you look wiped out. You should sack out there on the couch while I’m gone.”
Drew looked at the couch and seemed to consider it.
“Besides,” said Derek, “you should be here if Chris calls. I have a feeling that if she works things out with Marsha, you’ll be needed.”
Of course. It all made sense to Ron. Her dad had come running to Chris for help with Marsha. He must have been desperate if he’d been willing to swallow his pride. She hoped he had at least apologized.
Drew looked at the couch again, then at Derek. “So, I know it’s none of my business, but are you living here now?”
“No,” said Derek. “I thought, with everything that was happening with Marsha, it would be better if I stayed here too. Safety in numbers. At least, that was the idea.”
Drew nodded. “I appreciate that.”
“I did it mainly to protect Chris. Not that I don’t care about Marsha. But I love your daughter.”
“Duly noted. And I’m glad she has you. I’ve also been meaning to thank you for this morning. If you hadn’t been there…”
“I’m glad I was, and that I could help.”
“Son, I believe you saved her life.”
Derek looked embarrassed. “Like I said, I’m glad I could help. I hope she’ll be okay.”
“You and me both.”
Outside, a car honked. “That’s my ride.”
“Here, I’ll walk you out.”
Joe arrived while Drew saw Derek to the door. “You think it’s safe for Derek to go to that house?” he asked after Ron filled him in.
“He’ll most likely be fine in the daylight. Besides, he’s smart enough to take ear plugs and get out of there fast.”
“I s’pose you’re right.” He didn’t seem completely convinced. Ron wondered whether Joe only cared so much about Derek for Chris’s sake, or if he was growing attached to the guy. Before she could ask, her dad returned. He strolled over to the sofa and seemed to consider it some more before looking around with that same air of uncertainty. Was he looking for some sign of her presence? She was surprised by the sudden wave of hope that buoyed her up at the idea.
Finally, Drew stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes.
“How’s he doin’?” asked Joe.
Ron shrugged. “He’s not taking things well. If he’s staying true to form, then he’s making it all about his pain.” She glanced at Joe, who was giving her the side-eye. “What?”
“Isn’t that a little harsh?”
“You wouldn’t think so if you’d heard the things he said to Chris.”
“Maybe not. But the man’s only human. He’s entitled to his pain, and to not cope with it perfectly.” At Ron’s look, he held up his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not taking his side. I’m only s ayin’.”
Folding her arms, Ron looked down at her father. She tried to see him from Joe’s perspective, to set aside their history and her own pain and see him as a guy with a broken heart doing his best to understand a situation that was so far outside of his normal. It wasn’t easy, but she managed. A little.
“You want me to leave you alone with him?” asked Joe.
She looked at him. “What would be the point of that?”
“I don’t know. I thought you might want to try getting through to him.”
“I’m not sure what that would accomplish. Even if I did, he’d only deny it happened. He’s been denying me for so long, why stop now?”
He put an arm around her. She sighed and leaned into him, drawing strength from his presence. This had already been an emotional day. She was going to drain herself if she kept it up. “We should head back upstairs.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. There’s nothing to see here.” She pulled away from him and bumped the coffee table. A decorative bamboo tray that held the remote controls rattled noisily. Her dad opened his eyes and sat up, staring in consternation at the remotes.
“Did you mean to do that?” asked Joe.
“No!”
“You sure?”
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Maybe on some level you’re always trying to get your daddy’s attention.”
“You know, Freud went out of style years ago.”
Again, Joe held up his hands. “I’m only sayin’.”
Her dad stood up, still staring at the remotes. A lot of different things could have explained away the disturbance, but with everything that had been going on lately, it was no wonder he seemed frightened. With another look around the room, he took off. A moment later, the front door opened and closed.
“I guess you got his attention,” said Joe.
“Yeah.” Ron looked sadly at the vacant couch as the spark of hope she’d felt before extinguished itself. “For all the good it did.”
Chapter Seventeen
The afternoon sun slanted through the trees, illuminating the front porch as Chris rolled up the gravel drive to the McAllisters’ farm hous
e. Marsha sat in the swing, one foot propped up on the porch rail, not bothering to come and greet her. She didn’t even wave when Chris got out of the car and started for the porch. She looked much the same as she had the other night, dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and jeans that had been artfully ripped and tattered. A cigarette balanced between the fingers of her right hand.
Chris made it all the way up the steps and over to the swing before Marsha finally acknowledged her. Her voice was devoid of feeling as she asked, “Did your father send you?”
“He told me you were here. But it was my idea to come. Is it okay if I sit?”
She shrugged and puffed on her cigarette. Chris settled into the swing beside her, careful not to rock it too much. She sat there a moment, not sure what to say. The sight of Marsha scared her. Where the other night she’d been full of nervous energy and relief at Chris’s arrival, now she looked depressed and defeated. She opened her mouth to ask if she was okay but closed it again because that was a stupid question. Finally, she asked, “Do you want to talk?”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“Everything that happened this morning, for starters. I know it’s a lot to process.”
Marsha remained silent. She stared straight ahead. Chris followed her gaze and looked out at the front yard. The lawn was a little overdue for a trim, but still lovely, scattered with shade trees that led to a more thickly wooded lot beyond. Somewhere in the woods, a mess of blue jays screeched, and closer by, she could hear the peep of a cardinal. “It’s pretty here,” she said. Still, Marsha didn’t speak. Chris decided to press on. “I want you to come back to the house with me. Either that, or I’ll stay here with you. Whichever you’d prefer.”
At last, Marsha looked at her. She seemed appalled at the suggestion. She shook her head and flicked ashes off the end of her cigarette. “No.”
“Marsha—”
“It’s not safe.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. And you can’t face this thing alone.”
Marsha looked away, but Chris could see the muscles of her throat straining as she swallowed. “I’m not going to get anyone else killed.”
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