A Kiss for Emily (Emily Stokes Series)

by J. P. Galuska

  Then, he heard her voice.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  REGRETS

  STILL JUST A COUPLE OF YARDS from the hospital entrance, Dad shook his head, like he was trying to assemble some logic in his thoughts. “Let’s get out of here. That is, if the truck is still here. I’m pretty sure I left the thing running.”

  As he put his arm around me to leave, a shrill siren announced an incoming ambulance. Flashing red and blue lights beamed off the top of the vehicle. Moments later, the ambulance came to an abrupt halt inside the adjoining admit shelter.

  Although I knew it was impolite to gape, it was the natural thing to do. I scurried back to the entrance and I pressed my nose against the glass to avoid the glare.

  The emergency team worked quickly, and soon a gurney holding a body was hoisted from the back of the ambulance. I inched farther down the window to get a better view.

  “That’s Alex!” I exclaimed as my curiosity turned to horror. I couldn’t take my eyes off the stretcher.

  “Are you sure?” asked Dad.

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I searched for a passage way into the ambulance entrance to see my first love.

  “Alex!” I barged into the middle of the commotion. He was pale, even gray. He had an oxygen mask strapped around his mouth. Hoses seemed to be connected everywhere. For the first time in a long time, I saw his steel-blue eyes. Glazed and unresponsive, they looked like death.

  “What are you doing here?” a large EMT asked, shoving his face before mine.

  I froze, believing I was in trouble. I stared at his mouth, waiting.

  “You know this boy?” he asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I do. He’s Alex Hibbs.” A new kind of fear I’d never felt before ran through my entire body. “What is wrong with him?”

  “We got an anonymous call. He OD’d in the park. Probably meth,” the man said loudly over the organized confusion. “Are you family?”

  Wide-eyed, I shook my head.

  “Stick around. You can tell us how to reach his family.” The EMT brushed past, pushing Alex farther into the hospital and out of sight.

  All became quiet, but the chaos lingered in the circulating red and blue lights that bounced off the walls, the windows, and even my skin. Mom and Dad appeared first, followed by an obese woman with a wobbly gait.

  “My name is Wanda Greenberg.” She held out her thick black hand. “I’m with Social Services. Are you willing to give us some information?”

  “Is he going to die?” I asked.

  “Frightening, isn’t it? People just don’t realize what they are getting themselves into.” Wanda’s lips squished to one side in a frown. “So, are you still willing to give us some information on the young man?”

  “Of course.” That was an easy decision.

  We followed Wanda as she waddled past the admission desk. With each step I took, I thought less about her weight problem and more about Alex. Guilt began to pile heavy upon my back: why had I been so mean to Alex? Why didn’t I call him back? Why? Why? Why! All he ever did was care.

  Halfway down a long corridor, we stopped in front of an open door. A shiny gold name plate was glued to the wall beside the doorjamb. Her name appeared in plain white letters.

  Wanda extended her arm. “Please take a seat.”

  Sitting behind her own desk, she assumed an expression like she had done this before. “Were you with him?”

  My eyes went wide.

  “Where you the one who dialed 911?”

  “Oh, no,” my words came out in a nervous laugh. “I just happened to be here, at the hospital, with my Dad,” I said, pointing.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Then I’d like to start out by saying how glad I am that you are willing to get involved!” Wanda leaned forward and folded her hands on her desk. “That young man sure is lucky to have a friend like you.”

  Friend? Did she actually have to go and say the word “friend”? As if my guilt wasn’t bad enough? Accessory to his problem was more like it. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “Honey, let me put it to you this way.” Wanda’s eyes grew large and her head bobbed from side to side. “If you were a prayin’ girl, I’d start right away. If he makes it through the night, he’ll still have plenty more hurdles to jump over as he battles this demon.”

  I hid my face in my hands.

  “Oh mercy! What’s the trouble here?” Wanda asked.

  “Our daughter used to be…quite fond of the boy,” Mom offered as an interpretation.

  “Oh, I see.” Wanda leaned further over her desk. “Chin up, honey. You did the right thing. This act of kindness will not soon be forgotten.”

  All I could manage was a scowl.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  LIFE AFTER DEATH

  I COULDN’T SHAKE THE IMAGE of Alex’s unfocused eyes. They were so…void. He looked dead. After giving Wanda the information she needed, my parents and I began the drive home. Despite the warm night air, I wrapped myself in a fleece blanket I found in the back seat.

  Without making a conscious effort, my thoughts wandered to an English essay I had written in Mrs. Johnson’s class my sophomore year. My topic had been about death. I discovered that more people die from heart disease than any other cause of death. I read that being crushed by a war elephant was rated among the manliest ways to die, and I learned that falling into a vat of aspheric acid would be one of the most painful ways to die.

  I wondered how Sam had died. I wondered if Alex was going to die. I wondered how old I’d be when I died.

  It wasn’t often that our truck was silent, but Mom and Dad looked as exhausted as I felt. About halfway home, I realized the truck had been quiet for too long. “Where is Kitty?”

  “Home,” Mom replied.

  “Alone?”

  “With Sam,” Dad said.

  His simple reply made me pause. “You trusted Sam with Kathryn?”

  My parents gave each other an evaluating look. “Sometimes,” Mom offered, “circumstances make choices for you.”

  “Huh?”

  “We believe Kat went out looking for Sam. Somehow, she found him. That’s gotta count for something,” Dad said, finishing Mom’s thought.

  They continued sharing the story of how Kat showed up with Sam. I laughed at the funny parts. Mostly of the fainting, the flashing, and the name, Mr. Strobe Light.

  “Who’da thunk she could have pulled it off?” I asked, mostly to myself. It was too easy to get caught up in the annoying part of my sister.

  “I’d say we have two heroes in our family,” Dad added, still chuckling.

  My smile gave way and the ache in my gut increased to the point of being noticed. “Are either of you mad at me or Sam?”

  Silence.

  “Confused, bewildered…it never occurred to me to be angry,” Mom said. “Are you?” Her eyes were on Dad when she asked the question, but I thought the question was intended for me.

  I considered the last time I had seen Sam. He had exploded into a million little pieces. It had been terrifying. But no, I wasn’t mad.

  “I’m just glad we have you back safely!” Mom said finally.

  Dad pulled the truck in front of the garage door. The engine idled loudly for a moment before he killed it. He twisted to face me. “Are you ready?”

  I shifted in my seat and the pungent smell of eggroll filled my nostrils. It made me shudder.

  It was a strange homecoming, from a strange outing. I knew that Kat would be excited to see me—alive and unscathed. She would no doubt get a running start and nearly break my neck in a violent hug…. But what about Sam? How would he react? How should I react? My heart thumped. I wanted to wait outside until I felt the joy of being in love. Right now, I felt fear. Or exhaustion. Or, I don’t know what.

  Outside the truck, I frowned at the clothes I’d stolen off the clothesline. I couldn’t be sure what made me feel worse: stealing or my appearance. Then I noticed the dust and dirt that had seeped up between my toes. I
looked up in time to catch Mom’s eyes as they finished their assessment.

  “At least your braids look nice.” Mom said, tugging one. “I’ve got some blush in my purse.” She dabbed my checks. “And lastly…” she retrieved a tube of lip balm and traced my lips.

  “That feels good.” I rubbed my lips together.

  “I think that’s as good as it gets.” Mom smiled her endearing smile.

  “Emily—” Dad stepped closer. “You have been through a lot the past few days. No one expects a Beauty Queen to walk through the door. I am just thankful we have completed our mission today—bringing you home safe and sound. But, just to let you know, even after everything, you’d still give any contestant a run for their money if you showed up for a pageant looking like this.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” While his words brought some comfort, I still felt scared about seeing Sam. “You go in first.”

  Dad paused to unwrap his turban, leaving a rectangular bandage taped to his face. With an exaggerated smile, he opened the door and walked in the house. “We’re home.”

  Kat was already waiting by the door. “Yeah!” She went to give Dad a hug, and then her eyes went big. “Whoa! Your face!” She put her fingers over the gauze covering Dad’s stitches.

  “It’s all cool,” he said. “It looks worse than it really is.”

  Kat’s eyes shifted back and forth from the covered wound to me. Satisfied he was safe, she came bounding for me. “Emily, you’re home!”

  As Kat took her last leap, her arms opened wide and I braced myself for the ferocious hug.

  “I knew I could find him, Emmy!” she continued, speaking too loud. “I found him and brought him back home!”

  “Thank you, Kitty.” I lowered her back to the floor and fluffed the top of her hair. “You are my hero.”

  “Hey! You guys had Chinese food without me. No fair!” she whined. Tugging me by the hand, Kat led me through the kitchen. “Come in and see him.”

  The harder Kat pulled, the slower I walked. Angry hornets buzzed in my stomach. The skin on my arms and back turned hot. I stopped under the archway to catch my breath. Stalling, I glanced over my shoulder to see my parents a few steps behind me.

  “What are you waiting for?” With a giant yank, Kat pulled me into the adjoining room. I entered with a loud thud. “She’s here!” Kat squealed, maintaining a smile from ear to ear.

  Regaining my balance, I saw something that made me stop and stare.

  “Hello, Emily.” A tall, transparent white cloud hovering near the sofa began to drift across the floor to our side of the room.

  Straining, I recognized facial features that resembled Sam. The body, if I could call it that, was scarcely defined. White wispy curls gracefully trailed from its edges and back. “Sam?”

  “Yes!” Kat blurted out, unable to contain her excitement. “Isn’t this cool? He can get tall, short, thin, fat, disappear, and even fly!”

  “Where’s your color?” I managed to ask, even though my thoughts were several stages past bewilderment. I looked back at my parents again. “Do you believe this?”

  “No,” Dad answered.

  “The sun has set,” Sam explained. “I use the color spectrum from the sun to maintain a colored form.”

  I was reluctant for further conversation, occupied by my appearance, but curiosity overruled. “You look like a cloud—”

  “That’s ‘cause he’s made out of water!” Kat squealed, still very charged.

  Sam passed something of an arm in front of his unformed body. Feathery edges trailed freely as he moved. “Yes, the gravitational pull of the moon… it messes with my atomic cohesion. You should see me during a solar flare!” Sam joked, but his smile quickly faded. “I guess this is one downfall of being a ghost.”

  I heard it. He said it. Ghost.

  “What else affects your appearance?” Dad asked.

  “Mostly the weather, sir.” Sam drifted closer to my father. “My molecules have little cohesion of their own. Like this, I am slightly heavier than air. But, I have learned a technique to artificially produce— it’s really not important.”

  “Go on,” I heard myself say.

  Sam turned toward me, but kept his distance. “I gain density by absorbing water and energy from my surroundings, much like a developing rain cloud. It takes a lot of solar energy to fully form, to pick things up, or…” The white wispy floating Sam looked at my sister, who was bouncing on her knees on the couch. “To hold your hand, Kat.”

  Sam moved slowly in my direction. He had no feet: only whiteness that tumbled upon itself like waves coming into shore. “Obviously, there are some things that I cannot compete with. Actual raindrops or standing water is much too heavy. And as you saw firsthand, Emily, lightning is not my friend, either.” He looked at me apologetically before swooshing toward me. His quick movement left a thick trail of mist that caught up to him seconds later.

  “I am so sorry if I scared you, Emily.” The edges of his body turned to a rippling state of flux. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that was like, seeing me burst into pieces.”

  Once again, I thought back to the loft. I remembered the odd dampness I felt on my skin. It had been Sam—a raincloud— exploding.

  “By the time I pulled myself back together,” he continued, “your mother arrived. I panicked.” Pain filled the lines in his visible features. “I waited for a while for you to come back, but you didn’t.” He paused and his milky-colored eyes searched mine. “I finally returned to the farm, hoping you would come to me.”

  “Why didn’t you just stay here?” Mom asked next.

  “I couldn’t. I was no longer an invited guest in your home. If an uninvited spirit dwells for too long, it attaches to the house. That is how hauntings occur.”

  Dad grimaced.

  “Emily…” Sam turned back towards me.

  A terrible sorrow appeared in the shadows of his face. His pale white lips opened farther.

  I could tell he was about to tell me something heavy, something important. “Not now,” I said. “Not yet. Let me shower and put on some real clothes. I’d like to look presentable.” Then I made a hasty exit.

  I was appalled by my reflection in the mirror when I flicked on the light in the bathroom. Steam soon billowed out above the shower door and the smell of wildflowers filled the air.

  With my hair wrapped up in a towel, and another around my body, I wiped the condensation from the mirror in a circular motion. A small smile formed on my lips. My internal mood rings weren’t green with grief or melancholy tan. They were blue. I was home safe and Sam was waiting for me downstairs; that’s all that really mattered.

  I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste and gave my teeth a well deserved cleaning. As the paste began to foam, I wondered what God thought of us hosting a ghost downstairs in our living room.

  After combing my hair, I went to my bedroom for some clothes. I also wondered why Sam was still on Earth. Dressed in comfortable lounging clothes, I looked in the mirror once again. This time, I approved.

  “There she is,” Dad commented from the sunroom. My family, plus Sam, sat around the glass topped table. All eyes turned toward me, and I felt a bit tense, kind of like making a stage entrance, rather than walking inside my house. “Sam was just telling us about the day you showed up at his farm.”

  “Yes.” Sam’s form rose in what appeared to be a standing position, except that he was standing within the center of the chair.

  Mom gave Dad the look and whispered, “I’m a sucker for old-school charm.”

  “I’d pull out a chair for you, Emily, but—” He held up his two wisps of arms.

  Dad quickly stood and fumbled for a chair beside Sam. “Sit here, honey.”

  As I took my seat, I checked the window to see if Sam cast a reflection, and he did. What that meant, I didn’t know.

  “You know, John,” Mom chuckled. “You could learn a thing or two if you pay attention.”

  “I hope you remembered to brus
h your teeth,” Kat blurted.

  “You look beautiful!” Sam seemed unashamed to say in front of my parents.

  I’m sure I blushed and for a moment, all I could see was Sam. It was good to see him, even as a ghost. But as my heart found its rhythmic pattern, I felt my stomach tighten, watching his translucent figure vary in a constant state of flux.

  “Perhaps it’s time to let you two have some quiet time,” Mom said as she stood up from the table.

  “It’s past your bedtime, Kiddo.” Dad directed his statement at Kat as he pushed in his seat.

  “Awh,” she whined. “I don’t want to go to bed.”

  A familiar routine, Mom took hold of Kat’s arms and proceeded to pull her off the chair.

  I looked over my shoulder to see my sister’s limp legs sprawled out behind her as Mom dragged her away. “Little sisters are so annoying.”

  “At times,” Sam said. “She reminds me of my sister.”

  “Your sister!” Hearing him speak of her reminded me of the story I found on the Internet.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  GOOSEBUMPS

  “WHAT IS IT?” Sam asked

  I chewed my lip as I debated if I really wanted to tell him the story I had uncovered on the Internet. “What ever happened to your sister?”

  “I already told you the story.” His voice lost its natural ease, making me wary. “What is it?” he asked.

  “You mentioned that uninvited spirits become the kind of ghosts that haunt places?”

  “Yes, I did. Why?” he asked, leaning in towards me.

  “It’s like they become trapped?”

  “What do you have to say, Emily?” Crossness scratched his voice while his white billowing edges turned jagged, flickering wildly like flames in a fire.

  Seeing this reaction, I stiffened and felt a thick layer of fear crept over me. “Don’t hurt me.”

  The flickering stopped. He closed his eyes and let out soft meditative hum. Once again, his edges softened and rippled gently like an easy breeze. His torso, appearing much like a shifting fog, stirred gracefully.

  “Don’t be afraid of me Emily. I will never harm you.” His arms absorbed into the sides of his body and reemerged out front. “I give you my word.”