How to Date Dead Guys (The Witch's Handbook Book 1)

by Ann M. Noser

  “What about your friend Abby? She said something about you wearing her ‘lucky shirt’ on a date with a ‘Greg’ last time I visited. What was that about?”

  “Ewwwww! That guy and I just worked on an Honor’s Project together.”

  Her eyes narrow. “You’re sure?”

  “Mom, believe me. I couldn’t stand him. He sang at inappropriate times. Abby was just teasing me.”

  She sips her drink. “She’s a strange friend. I’m not sure I like her.”

  “She’s really nice, Mom. You should give her a chance.”

  “Okay.” Mom stares at me. “Just as long as you’re not engaging in some ‘open’ relationship.”

  “I’m not! I promise.” I’m not even in a “closed” relationship, for Pete’s sake!

  “Okay, then.” She takes a deep breath. “I feel much better now that we’ve cleared up that little misunderstanding.”

  “Good.” My shoulders relax.

  Just when I think I’m safe, my father clears his throat.

  “One more thing…” Mom dots her lips with a napkin. “Your dad and I are still disappointed you moved in with Jake without telling us. We’re more open minded than you think, Emma.”

  “Correction,” interjects my father. “Your mother is more open minded than you think.”

  “And, to your father, you will never be any older than twelve.” Mom smiles. “Keep that in mind.”

  “Okay. I will.”

  “Good thing your grandmother’s not still alive.” Dad shakes his head. “This would kill her… By the way, when our friends ask how you’re doing, I tell them your new roommate’s name is ‘Janice’. Please do the same.”

  The day after my parents’ visit, Claire comes to our door. “Poor Abby can’t go to the delivery room not knowing whether or not she’s leaving with a baby. I’ve tried my best, but I don’t know how to help her reach a decision.”

  “Yes,” I agree, “but the choice has to be hers.”

  “At the moment, she’s too apathetic to do anything. I’ve brought her papers and magazines, but she doesn’t even pick them up. She doesn’t turn on the radio or the TV. She doesn’t go to her classes. Abby just sits there, barely responding to anything I say.”

  “Let’s go downstairs and have an intervention,” Mike says, but somehow I know it’s Steve’s idea.

  We march downstairs and rap on the door.

  It takes Abby forever to answer. Her pale face glistens with sweat. Her eyelids droop as she invites us in. All the shades are drawn, blocking out the sun.

  “It’s so dark and stale in here,” I say.

  Abby grunts as she settles back down on the couch. Suddenly, her eyes widen in horror. “Oh crap! I just peed my pants.”

  Claire rushes over to her. “Abby, that’s not pee. Your water just broke.”

  bby doesn’t protest as Claire leads her to the car. Mike and I lug Abby’s heavy overnight bags. How long does she intend to stay at the hospital, anyway? Claire refuses to turn on the radio so we listen to Abby’s ragged breathing the entire way.

  “Hang in there, Abby. Hang in there.” Mike leans forward from the backseat, a hand on her shoulder.

  When we get to the hospital, Claire ushers us toward a back door. “I worked as a nurse here for thirty years. This is the fastest way to the patient receiving unit.”

  We pass several dumpsters, the cafeteria, and the gift shop. Just as I’m about to inquire if they’ve remodeled since Claire retired, she sweeps us up to the front desk.

  “We have a woman in labor,” Claire announces.

  The gum-chewing receptionist doesn’t even glance up.

  Claire clears her throat and projects her voice across the room. “I said…we have a woman in labor over here.”

  “We’ll be with you shortly,” a nurse calls out as she rushes by.

  “This woman is in pain. She needs to lie down now,” Claire declares.

  “The doctor will determine if she is in labor.” A nurse’s aide wearing Hello Kitty scrubs hands Abby a pile of forms to fill out.

  “How old are you?” Claire asks.

  The aide pauses.

  Claire continues. “I’m pretty sure I worked as a nurse longer than you have been alive, and when I say a woman’s in labor, she’s in labor.”

  Abby gasps and looks down. “Oh no, not again. I just changed into these pants.” Her yoga pants are soaked, and a pool forms around her on the floor.

  “Oh, goody. Maybe now you’ll believe me,” Claire says to Nurse Kitty.

  Abby gets an exam room right away. She holds up the hospital gown and cocks her head to the side. “How do I put this on?”

  “It looks like a shower curtain,” I say. “A really ugly shower curtain.”

  “I’ll go behind the privacy screen so you can change,” Mike offers.

  “I’m done,” Abby says a few minutes later. She groans again as she hoists herself up on the hospital bed. “How do I look?”

  “You look hot.” I wink. “That’s an ultra-sexy gown. I wonder if they have one in my size.”

  “They’re not anybody’s size, dear, that’s the whole point.” Claire cranes her head out the door. “Now, where is that doctor?”

  Steve comes out from behind the privacy curtain, goes straight to Abby’s side, and takes her hand. “I’m here for you.”

  “Your voice sounds different.” Abby writhes on the hospital bed. “You sound like someone else, someone I used to know.”

  “It’s the stress,” Steve replies. “I’ve never done this before.”

  Abby gasps in pain. “That makes two of us.”

  Claire continues to sneak peeks out the door. “I don’t know anyone who works here anymore. All these people are so young―how could they possibly know anything?” She sighs. “Oh well. I’m guess I’m gonna have to go kidnap us a doctor.”

  Ten minutes later, the doctor declares Abby is indeed in labor.

  “Oh, what a surprise,” Claire mutters.

  A different aide wheels in a gurney to transport Abby upstairs to the delivery area. Nurse Kitty probably went into hiding―not that I blame her. Claire has completely transformed into a protective mother bear.

  I struggle alone with the luggage, as Steve and Claire march alongside the gurney rolling down the hallway and into the elevator. Once we get in the delivery room, I unzip the bags.

  “What are you doing?” Abby snaps.

  “I thought you might want some of the CDs or DVDs we packed for your labor.”

  “I don’t want any of those things! Please leave my stuff alone.”

  “Okay.” I back away.

  “How many of those straps are you going to put on me?” Abby asks the nurses.

  “About a dozen.”

  “I’m hungry,” Abby complains. “But I suppose I can’t eat anything now.”

  “That’s right,” the nurse says patiently. “You can have a popsicle if you want.”

  Abby sighs and rolls on to her side. Steve never lets go of her hand.

  “Abby,” Claire ventures. “Are you certain you want to decline pain medication?”

  “You’re declining pain medication?” I ask, horrified.

  “Yes, I want a natural delivery,” Abby snaps.

  “Why?” I ask. “Oh. You’re wincing again. Are you having another contraction?”

  Abby glares at me.

  We wait for hours while Abby endures unending waves of contractions. Steve and Claire coach her along. I sit at a safe distance across the room, wishing I could disappear. Nice doctor I’d make. I have no clue how to help, and every time I open my mouth, the wrong words come out. Good thing Abby can’t get out of that bed or she would’ve ripped off my head a dozen times already.

  “I can’t breathe right,” Abby pants. “How do other women do this?”

  “They use pain medication,” I say.

  “You’re not being very supportive of my decision. Try the TV―let’s see if that distracts me.”


  I turn it on and hand her the remote. She changes the channel every five seconds. After a long while, the lady doctor comes in to check Abby again. She reacts so painfully she can hardly remain on the hospital bed during the exam.

  “I’m afraid you’re still at only three centimeters dilation,” the doctor says.

  “Three centimeters? How’s that possible? All those awful contractions, and I’m not any further along?”

  The doctor removes her gloves. “If you’re this painful just on exam, you’d better rethink getting an epidural. It’s going to only get worse from here on out.”

  “I suppose you agree with her, Emma?” Abby grumbles.

  “You’re asking me?” I reply. “I heavily medicate myself with naproxen every time my period comes around. I’d have gotten an epidural hours ago.”

  “Okay.” Abby grits her teeth, bracing herself for another contraction. “Give me an epidural. And make it snappy.”

  The cute, male anesthesiologist is gentle and soft-spoken, talking her through the whole procedure.

  Within minutes, Abby’s face relaxes. She rolls back onto the bed with a smile. “Oh, this is so much better. Listen do you have a fan club I can join? Heck, I’ll take over and run your fan club.”

  “I’ll let you know.” The anesthesiologist winks and leaves the room with his rolling cart of supplies.

  Abby remains silent for a while. Then she shrugs off Steve’s and Claire’s hands and sighs. “I hate him,” she murmurs with her eyes closed.

  “The epidural guy?” I ask. “He seemed nice enough.”

  “No, not the epidural guy. He’s awesome.” Abby adjusts her position in the bed. “I meant the guy who got me into this mess in the first place and then just disappeared. At the time, I thought that I loved him, but now, I hate him. I hate Steve.”

  “Steve? His name was Steve?” My voice sounds pitchy. Oh my.

  I look at Steve.

  He nods.

  I look at Claire.

  She doesn’t appear surprised.

  I sigh. Why am I always the last to know everything?

  Abby eyes me. “Don’t make a big deal about this, Emma. Don’t go looking for him.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t.” There’s no need.

  fter the epidural, the rest of the delivery flies by in a rush. Just as things get interesting, however, Nurse Kitty forces us to go wait in the lounge. Only Claire remains with Abby through the final stages of labor. Steve paces the waiting room. I have a million questions for him but don’t dare ask them when he’s so nervous and agitated.

  It isn’t long before Claire comes to us with the announcement. “It’s a healthy baby boy!”

  Relief washes over Steve’s face.

  “How’s Abby?” I ask.

  Claire smiles. “She’s fine. She got a little ornery when the nurses’ aide handed her a mirror at the end.”

  “What was the mirror for?” I ask.

  “To see the top of the baby’s head as it comes out.”

  “Ewww!” I shudder. “Who’d want to see that?”

  “That’s what Abby said. She threw the mirror back at that teenager masquerading as a nurse and just narrowly missed her head. Fortunately, the girl ducked in time.”

  Unless I’m imagining things, Claire sounds a little disappointed Abby missed.

  A joyous smile lights up Claire’s face. “And the good news is…Abby has decided to keep the baby and come live with me after she leaves the hospital.”

  “That’s great, Claire.” Steve releases a pent-up sigh. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Would you two be willing to go back to the apartment building, pack everything, and bring it over to my house? Abby won’t be able to lift anything for a while anyway, so this will make things much easier for her.”

  “We’re on it.” Steve grabs her keys and hands them to me.

  We drive home in Claire’s car. When Steve tries to turn on the radio, I slap his hand away.

  “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, mister. Why didn’t you tell us you were the father?” I scold him.

  “Yeah.” Mike glimmers into the passenger’s seat. “When we were in the hospital and you pushed me out of the way, I thought maybe you had wanted to be a doctor or something.”

  “I was a history major,” Steve reminds us.

  “And I thought maybe Mike was scared of blood and got queasy, so you had to take over,” I say.

  “Emma, you’re the one who should rethink your career as a doctor,” Mike says. “You can’t even handle the idea of using a mirror to watch a baby come out.”

  I nod, repulsed at the thought. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Well,” Steve explains. “I didn’t tell you because Abby didn’t know what she wanted to do, so I wasn’t sure what I should do.”

  “Are you going to tell Abby who you are now?” I ask.

  “No. She doesn’t need to know I’m here, but I don’t want her to think I deserted her, either. Don’t worry―I’ll take care of everything.”

  “You always do,” I mutter.

  After we get back to the apartment, we load up Claire’s car with boxes from Abby’s apartment. The last thing Steve brings down to the car is his manila envelope stuffed with cash.

  “I’m giving this to Claire,” he tells me. “There’s a note explaining everything―I want her to use the money for Abby and my son.”

  We drive across town to the Mundahl house. Bernie the cat seems happy to see us and even happier to be fed. Then we haul all the boxes into Abby’s new room.

  “Look at this!” I gaze, openmouthed. “Claire must’ve known all along what Abby would do.”

  We stand in the middle of a freshly painted bedroom that sits empty except for a lone rocking chair. The wood floor gleams. Crisp white curtains hang in the window. We unpack the boxes and assemble the crib. When I start to argue with Steve over the directions, he gives up way too easily.

  “Whatever you say, Emma.” He bows and waves his arm toward me.

  “Wow, you must be in a good mood. You usually like to be right all the time.”

  Steve laughs. “So do you.”

  Typical Steve response. “Now, that’s more like it.”

  As we finish the crib, Steve grows quiet. He stares out the bedroom window while I attach a zoo animal mobile and set up the bumper and bedding.

  “So how does it feel to be a dad?” I ask.

  No answer.

  “Steve, are you okay?”

  “No, Emma, I’m not okay.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to―”

  Steve sighs. “I know you’re just trying to help. But this time you can’t help me, okay? I’m standing here wondering how much time I have left, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Guess how much that sucks.”

  “A lot.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I sigh. “I guess not.”

  Steve’s jaw clenches. “And you have no idea what I’d do to make things different.”

  “I’m sorry―” I begin.

  “I know you are. And I know you’ve done all you can for me. It’s up to me now.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  His eyes turn cold.

  I bend down to collapse the cardboard boxes. “Sometimes you scare me, Steve.”

  “You know who should be scared? Those assholes who killed me.”

  hen we visit the hospital the next morning, Abby still hasn’t figured out a name for her son. A book of baby names remains untouched on the table beside her bed. Mike carries all the recent newspapers from Abby’s apartment under his arms. He stacks them in a pile, sits down, and begins to read. It takes approximately ten minutes of strategic paper rustling for Abby to notice a picture on the front page.

  “May I see that, please?” Abby whispers. She clenches the newspaper just below the headline “Missing Student’s Body Found in River”. She reads in silence while I rock the baby to sleep.

  After a
long pause, Abby puts down the paper and reaches for the baby. Tears stream down her face. “Can I have him back, please?”

  I rise and place the newborn in her outstretched arms. “Abby, are you okay?”

  “Not really.” She averts her eyes and squeezes her baby so much he wails. Then he immediately starts rooting around.

  “I guess he’s hungry again.” Abby adjusts herself as tears continue to fall. “I hope you two don’t mind, but after the entire population of this hospital has watched me breastfeed, I don’t really care anymore who sees me nurse.” She reaches for a tissue and knocks the book of baby names on the floor.

  I pick it up and put it back on the side table.

  “Thanks.” Abby smiles through her tears. “Claire dropped that off earlier. She said I’d better have a name picked out by the time she got back.” She tries to laugh but ends up crying even harder.

  I start to say something but don’t want to push her. I figure she’ll talk to me about Steve when she’s ready.

  “Emma, I’ve got something to tell you.”

  I guess she’s ready now.

  “Do you want me to leave?” Mike’s face makes it clear he wants to stay.

  “No.” Abby shakes her head. “You should hear this, too.” She blows her nose, sighs, and then pushes the paper toward us. “Did you read this article―about the guy who drowned?”

  I pick up the newspaper and pretend to scan the front page. “The one whose body they just found?”

  “I know this is going to sound crazy, but he’s the father…of my son.”

  I raise my eyes to her tear-filled ones, not sure what to say next.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Emma. I swear to God it’s true.”

  Mike gets up and stands near the head of the bed. “Don’t worry, Abby. Everything’s going to be okay. I believe you.”

  “Well, I believe you, too!” I rush to her other side.

  She smiles, her lower lip trembling. “I just…”

  “What is it?” Mike pats her shoulder. “You can tell us.”

  She sighs. “I’ve been so angry at Steve for so long because I thought he just ditched me… I never dreamed something like this could’ve happened!”

  “Of course you didn’t―” But my words, which I mean to be soothing, have the opposite effect.