by Ann M. Noser
“Yeah. I mean, you’re smart, for one.”
I roll my eyes, and he laughs.
“Sorry, I just said that because I know how much you hate it.” He grins. “But seriously, you’re funny, you kicked Amanda’s snooty-girl butt, and you’ve helped so many people just because they needed it, not because they would do anything for you in return.”
“Now that’s a genuine compliment.” I smile. “Thanks, Mike.”
“And I would’ve missed it all if you hadn’t brought me back.”
I pause. “So, at the least, you don’t regret that.”
“No… But there’s lots of things I do regret. Like, for example, I regret that your parents hate me.”
I object. “They don’t hate you.”
“Yes, they do. The real me, I mean. The one who made you go swimming.”
“Oh.” I nod. “Well, your family hates me, too, so I guess we’re even.”
“Yeah.” Mike laughs. “If we actually had dated, we’d be a regular Romeo and Juliet.”
My eyes fill with tears again. In my mind, I picture what being Mike’s girlfriend would be like.
It would be wonderful. Mike isn’t Jake, but he’s still pretty great.
And the river took both kinds of wonderful away from me.
Forever.
must have dozed off during the ride because some time later, Mike shakes my shoulder, waking me up from a dreamless sleep. “There’s the sign for Madison.”
“Good.” I stretch with a yawn. “I’m beat.”
He pulls into the exit. A few moments later, we reach the hotel just a hop off Interstate 94. We wait in line at the crowded reception desk. Three bridesmaids in tight mermaid-green dresses vent complaints to the management.
“My room doesn’t have enough towels!” Super Huge Hair gripes.
“I lost my key card!” Hot Pink Lips whines.
“The ice machine isn’t working!” Scary Long Nails taps on the counter.
By the time we get to our room, I can hardly lift my hefty bag anymore.
“What do you want to watch on TV?” I ask. “I promise not to torture you with any more Gilmore Girls.”
“Emma, have you ever crashed a wedding before?”
“No.” What are you getting me into now, Mike Carlson? “Have you?”
“Nope.” He grins. “Do you want to?”
“Not really. Besides, I don’t think people should get married on Fridays.” I pull back the comforter and collapse on one of the beds.
Mike dumps his duffel bag on the other bed. “There’s no rule against it.”
“Well, there should be.”
Mike’s face lights up with excitement, just like it did when he wanted to go swimming last fall. Back when this whole thing started. I couldn’t resist him then―or now.
“Okay. Just give me a few minutes to change.”
“Why?” Mike’s hand lingers on the doorknob.
“Well, I can’t very well go to a wedding dressed in these old jeans.” I drag my bag into the bathroom. I smile at Mike’s enthusiasm as I throw on my mom’s favorite red dress. But a part of me worries, just a little bit. Mike’s ideas don’t always turn out like he plans.
“Wow!” Mike’s eyes widens as I reenter the room. “Why did you bring a dress to a basketball tournament?”
“Just in case you wanted to be a wedding crasher somewhere along the way.”
“You mean you knew already?”
“Of course not.” I check out my hair in the mirror. “It’s not like I can predict the future.”
“But you can raise the dead.”
I sigh.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll stop bugging you about witchcraft.” Mike grabs my hand. “Let’s go!”
We race down the hall and wait at the elevators, hand in hand. Once downstairs, we enter the reception hall. Shimmering chandeliers and flickering candles glow in the darkened room. With dozens of couples boogying around the dance floor, we easily melt into the crowd.
Mike eyes the buffet as we pass nearby. “Dang. I’m hungry, but I suppose eating anything would be considered stealing. And now would be a really stupid time for me to rack up bad karma.”
“Then I’ll do it.” I grab two plates, handing one to him. “I’ve got plenty of time to rebuild my good karma afterward.”
We fill our plates with broasted chicken and corn.
“Let’s sit here.” Mike nods toward a table of middle-aged men dressed in gray suits.
It’s a good choice. Like most guys, they aren’t nosy about “who knows who” at the wedding. Mike chats with them about basketball while I eat.
When the “Chicken Dance” begins, Mike pulls me onto the dance floor.
“Are you serious?” I ask. “You want me to dance the ‘Chicken Dance’? It’s got to be the silliest wedding tradition in existence.”
Mike laughs. “But it’s also the most enjoyable. Come on! Let’s go!” The hilarious faces Mike makes while strutting like a rooster makes me laugh so hard I can barely stand, much less dance.
Soon all the white-haired women surround him, clucking in admiration. The popular dance tunes continue. Mike knows how to dance, and the way he twirls me around makes me feel less awkward than usual.
After several songs play, he leans toward me. “Hey, do you want a drink or something?”
“No!” No need to make a repeat fool of myself like at the Christmas party.
“Okay. Then how about some air?”
We pass the gift table on the way outside, and Mike pauses, fussing with his watch. He takes it off and drops it in one of the gift bags.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Steve bought it with some of his job money. I don’t need it. And it might bring us good karma to give the happy couple a gift.”
I shake a finger at him. “I told you. I took the plates, so it’s my bad karma, not yours.”
He puts an arm around me as we continue down the hall. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
We make our way to the front lobby, then stare out the glass doors into a downpour.
I shrug. “I guess we don’t get any fresh air.”
“Sure we do.” Mike yanks me outside. Protected from the rain by the drive-up overhang, we dance in circles, stopping only when the next car pulls up and honks.
Laughing, we head back for more indoor dancing and find ourselves in the middle of a classic eighties marathon. After two more songs, the crowd disperses as the first notes of a romantic ballad fill the air.
I turn to leave, but Mike grabs my hand. “Stay with me.”
He pulls me so close that at first I can’t breathe. I step back to where I’m more comfortable, then immediately regret pushing him away. A wave of sadness rushes over me as all the emotions I once felt for him flood back. I close my eyes and lean against his chest, seeing once again his white socks flashing in the dark before me. How did a simple crush turn into something so much more complicated?
Mike hugs me tight, and my heart aches.
This can’t be happening. I can’t be half in love with two guys, and not able to have either one of them.
The love song reaches its crescendo, and Mike leans into me.
What am I going to do when he leaves me like all the others?
Sam, Jake, Bernard, Steve―all their faces haunt me. Once they were merely strangers on Walker’s board. After my spell, they became my friends. And more.
The song ends, and a peppy dance tune begins.
We move apart. Mike stares at me so intently that I don’t know what to say.
Finally, he speaks. “Can we go back to the room now?”
I take a step back. “Why?”
Mike laughs. “Don’t worry. It’s not that. I’m just not feeling very well.”
When we reach our room, Mike excuses himself into the bathroom. I wait, swaying back and forth with the music of the reception still playing in my head.
I stiffen when I hear muffled voices i
n the bathroom. Is Mike talking to himself or is there somebody else in there now, too?
Not another dead person. Please, no.
I knock and call out: “Mike, are you okay?”
“Just…a…minute…” His voice sounds weak.
He’s been in there forever. Am I going to have to break down this door?
I fidget just outside the bathroom door until my cell phone vibrates on the bedside table across the room. When I check it for messages, I discover that both Walker and Claire called.
Walker’s message is first. “Hey, Emma. Something interesting happened tonight. Mrs. Carlson called to apologize for Kevin’s behavior. She’s finally persuaded him to talk to their priest. She says she lost one son already, and she isn’t ready to lose another. Just thought you’d want to know. Bye, now.”
Wow. I’ll have to tell Mike as soon as he gets out of the bathroom. I hear him fiddling with the doorknob.
Claire’s message begins, “Emma, I need―”
Mike stumbles out of the bathroom, gasping for air.
I drop the phone and race to catch him as he falls.
ike collapses against the wall. Sweat runs down his pale white cheeks. His raspy breaths fill the small hotel room.
“I can’t breathe!”
I grab his arms. “What should I do? I don’t know what to do!”
Mike sinks to the floor, his breaths short and shallow. “I need the river.”
“The river? I don’t understand.”
“Where I died. The exact spot. I have to go back. Right now.” His voice fades. “Please hurry.”
I grab my cell phone and purse. With Mike’s arm slung over my shoulders, we stagger out a side exit into the downpour. Mike’s breathing relaxes slightly in the rain. We rush to the car. I fling open the door, then shove and buckle him in. Then I race over to my side, tripping in my dress shoes. Heart pounding, I jump into my seat and slam the door shut. With a trembling hand, I start the engine. The gas gauge hovers barely above empty.
“Damn it!” I pound the steering wheel. “We’re low on gas.”
Before we hit the freeway, I swerve into a gas station and glance over at Mike. He gulps air like a fish out of water. His chest heaves and shudders. As I stare at him, it occurs to me that Mike breathed better in the rain. He’s going to suffocate if I don’t do something right now.
Racing through the rain, I run into the station. Dashing past other customers, I grab a gallon of drinking water and rush back out to him. I yank the car door open and pour it over his head. After a moment, Mike breathes more easily. I race back into the gas station to buy as many as I can carry.
Dad’s going to kill me for water-logging the Lexus.
I speed all the way home. “I better not get pulled over.”
“Maybe…your witchcraft powers…protect you…from the police. Except for Charlie…I mean,” Mike chokes out.
“Save your breath!”
One hour passes. Then another. We drive on without speaking. I function in tunnel vision mode, watching the endless white lines flash before me. Once we run out of bottled water, Mike rolls down the window and lets the rain fall in on him, gulping the wet air.
Please, please, please let me get him there in time.
It stops raining about a half hour before we reach campus. Mike’s rattling gasps become unbearable to witness.
“Just hold on!” I beg. “Not much longer!” Despite the crazy events of the last eight months, my life has never seemed more out of control than at this exact moment.
By the time I pull into campus, I’ve lost the last shreds of my sanity. At the far edge of the parking lot next to the Arts building, I press down hard on the gas, jump the curb, and bounce down the rugged terrain to get as close to the river as possible.
We come to a jarring halt in some overgrown shrubbery. I fly out of my seat, slip on ice as I race to Mike’s side of the car, and throw open his door.
He slumps out lifelessly against me.
Yanking on his shirt, I drag him down to the sandy river’s edge and push him in. He sinks out of view immediately, even though the water is only a few inches deep.
Shivering with cold, I search the length of the silent river.
He can’t leave without saying goodbye.
Tears run down my cheeks. The taunting cold light of the moon dances upon the river. I’ve never felt so alone.
Far in the distance, Mike finally comes up for air.
Or is it the other way around now, like a fish?
“Mike!”
He swims toward me, exultant and glowing with health.
Wait a minute, why does he look so shiny?
Mike emerges from the river to stand beside me, dripping wet in the same red shirt he drowned in so long ago. He peels something off his arm and tosses it into the water. It looks like an old snakeskin.
I shudder. “Is that the body?”
“What’s left of it. I don’t think it was ever meant to last this long.” Mike glistens by my side, occasionally peeling off another dull layer to reveal something gleaming underneath. “It feels great to be free.”
“You look…beautiful.” His skin glimmers like a pearl.
He smiles. “So do you. I like the dress.”
“Thanks. My mom picked it out.”
“I figured.” Mike turns back to the river.
I grab his arm. “You’ve got to go now, don’t you?”
He holds my gaze for a long time.
“Mike?” I can’t move. I can feel him slipping away. I’ll never see him again.
“I’m sorry, Emma. I’m sorry for everything.” He leans forward and kisses me before I can react. His kiss is cool and light, as if I’ve just kissed the moon.
When I open my eyes again, he is gone.
Tears blur my vision. It’s over. They’re all gone. I’m left alone with nothing but memories.
More tears fall as I back away from the river. My friends’ faces crowd in front of me: Mike, Jake, Bernard, Steve, and Sam. They took over my life, and now I’ll never see them again.
At least as long as I remain alive.
Something rustles behind me.
Officer Walker steps out of the tall grass. “Is Mike gone?”
I nod, unable to speak.
He puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Emma, are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” I sniffle. “I just hate crying in public, and I’ve been doing a lot of it tonight.”
“And I hate bleeding in public, so we’re even.” He digs in his pocket and hands me a crumpled tissue.
“Thanks. How do you always know where I am? I swear you must have stronger witchcraft powers than I do.”
Walker chuckles. “Sorry to disappoint, but Mike called me a couple hours ago. I tried to get a hold of Claire, but she was too busy explaining a photo that shows Steve napping while holding Abby’s baby. Claire’s trying to get the Lawrences to believe it’s an angel, but she isn’t having much luck so far.”
“She’ll think of something.”
“She’s a smart lady, all right,” Walker agrees. “But I don’t understand why Steve didn’t explain things to Abby. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s what Steve wanted.” I shiver.
“That doesn’t make it right.” Walker tugs on my arm. “Come on, you’re freezing. Let’s get you home.”
“And now Mike’s gone, too. They’re all gone. I helped the others, but I’m not sure that I helped Mike much. He waited too long to decide what to do, so he never got the chance to fix things with his family.”
“Maybe you weren’t supposed to help Mike. Maybe he was supposed to help you. And why aren’t you wearing a sweater or something?” Walker takes off his own jacket and drapes it over my shoulders.
I sink into the coat’s warmth and let Walker lead me up the hill. Every few steps I glance back at the river, waiting for someone else to emerge from the depths.
Walker sighs. “Emma, Mike’s gone. You need t
o accept that.”
“I know that. But what am I supposed to do now? I feel kind of lost.”
“Actually… I could use your help with Steve’s murder case. Plus I’ve got a stack of unsolved murder cases on my desk which could benefit from your peculiar set of talents.”
“Of course. If you think I can help. I’d do anything for Steve and Abby. When do we start?”
“Just hold your horses.” Walker chuckles. “First I’m using some vacation time to check on a hunch concerning a gang in Chicago. When I get back, I’ll call you.”
My arm prickles. “What’s your hunch?” I rub at the tingling skin until the sensation dissipates.
“I’ll tell you when I get back.” Walker puts a hand to the small of my back and guides me up the hill, away from the river, and on toward the rest of my life.
Halfway to the parking lot, I notice a rip in my dress and groan. “Crap. Mom’s gonna kill me. I ruined her favorite dress dragging Mike down to the river.”
Charlie glances at my outfit. “That’s too bad. Mike sure liked it.”
“What?” I stop short.
“When Mike called for help, he rambled on about a bunch of things: that he’d never talked to his brother, that he’d ruined your life, and that when he first saw you in that dress, he thought you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.”
“Oh.” I don’t even know how to feel about this.
He raises his eyebrows. “You’re not very good at accepting compliments, are you?”
“I guess not.”
“I’m not surprised. Keep walking, girl. We’re not there yet.” He gestures ahead, and we continue up the hill toward the parking lot.
“Do you really think you’ll solve Steve’s murder?”
“I told him I would. And I don’t break my promises.” Walker catches my hand as I slip on the hill. “Besides, with my brains and your kind of crazy, we’ll have quite the advantage. That is, if you don’t kill me first―” He stops short. “Good Lord, what did you do to your car?”
Walker freezes at the sight of the Lexus stuck in some bushes. He shakes his head. “What the heck were you thinking? Good thing I parked in the other lot.”
“I wasn’t thinking―I was in a hurry.”
“Crazy female driver,” he mutters.