She reached out with a trembling limb, placing her hand in his. A hand that was warm, soft, and encompassed everything good and right. Her breath hitched at the comfort it brought, the peace it gave deep within her. He brought her fingers to his cheek with a whisper of skin against skin, leaving her light-headed with surreal joy.
“Do you want to stay, Marcella? I didn’t ask that. I just assumed.”
Yes. Yes, yes, yes. She wanted to stay. For as long as she could.
Kellen craned his neck around the pair to look at Marcella with warm hazel eyes. “Under normal circumstances, your mouth in the closed position would be something akin to nirvana for me, but your timing’s off. Answer the nice archangel, honey. And no pressure here, but I’m a little nuts about you. Take that into consideration when you finally find that sharp tongue.” He chuckled, rocking Carlos in his arms.
Her heart swelled with a stinging jolt. “Yes,” she managed, failing at hiding her sob of gratitude. “I want to stay. More than anything, I want to stay.”
Uriel winked. “Coolio. So come with.” He gave her a gentle tug toward Solana’s body, lying peacefully where Armando had so casually dumped it.
“I just get in?” she squeaked. Her legs trembled, her stomach flip-flopped.
“Yeah, dudette, that’s what I’m saying. Go on, jump in,” Uriel cajoled with a smile of encouragement.
Marcella held a shaky hand up. This was all going so fast. Too fast. She scrambled for a reason to slow this down. “Wait. How old is Solana? I mean, look at me, right?” She waved an abstract hand around her body. “I couldn’t be the equivalent of more than thirty human years, at best. But I’d settle for twenty-five.”
“Marcella?”
Her eyes sought Kellen’s, bleary and red from battle, but warm and loving when he looked at her. “Yes, Kellen?”
“Get in the goddamned body or I’ll throw you in there myself.” Then he frowned, looking toward Uriel. “Sorry. Bad choice of words.”
She gave him a coquettish smile. “Have I told you how hot it is when you make demands?”
“Have I told you how completely bat shit you make me?”
“There’s been a heated occasion or two.”
“Get—in—the—body—now.”
She took a deep breath, trying to assimilate. “Wait, and I’m being very serious when I say wait. This seems so wrong—so—I dunno, like I’m violating her.” She turned to Kellen, her eyes wet with un-shed tears. A huge surprise. “There isn’t anything I want more than to be with you, Kellen—with Carlos, but this was his mother. She knows things about him I never will—the little things mothers know. Like what his favorite toy was when he was a baby. When he lost his first tooth. What he likes on his hot dog. I can’t be her. She was my granddaughter, for God’s sake!”
Kellen began to speak, but Uriel held up a hand with a comforting smile to quiet him. “That you care enough to worry about those things makes you one rad wahine, Marcella. You made a crazy sacrifice all those years ago—to save Carlos’s grandfather—your son—and you took it like a warrior. All the years you were forced to let everyone believe you were someone other than who you really are is hard-core loyal. But the way I look at it is Carlos needs a mother. Little man’s been through some roughage. It’s gonna take a long time to get his head back on straight and help him deal with what’s gone down. I can erase some of it, but I can’t stop the afterlife from paying him visits. He is what he is. A conduit to upstairs. A special, rare one at that. You could be the one to help him do that. You and Kellen.”
Her lips trembled. “But what about what Armando did while he was in Solana’s body? What about all those disgusting men he . . . And oh, God. He was so awful to her mother. Mrs. Ramirez’ll have me locked up in the loony bin just like that.” Marcella snapped her fingers, her heart torn.
Uriel nodded his understanding, but his next words soothed. “I got your back. The only thing you have to do is jump, Marcella. Tomorrow when you wake up, Carlos and his grandmother won’t remember anything but that his mother’s hard-core cool and she’s going to start dating a guy they both think is pretty awesome. What happens after that’s up to you two.”
She was being given this enormous gift, and it was almost too much. It left her overwhelmed, humbled beyond repair. The domino effect for a gesture so magnanimous floored her. Not only could she be with Kellen and Carlos, but her son. David. After so many agonizing, worry-filled years apart. He wouldn’t know who she really was—she’d in essence be his daughter. Yet that didn’t leave her with regret. Just to see him, be near him, talk with him for however long he had left on this Earth made inexplicable joy bubble up inside her.
Uriel placed a hand on her shoulder. “This is a lot, right? Like, all at once because everything’s been such a struggle for so long.”
She was slow to nod. “I’m afraid that I’ll screw it up—that it’ll all . . .”
“Be taken from you,” Uriel finished. “Not this time, Marcella. I’m always lookin’ out for the good guys. You won’t see me, but you’ll feel me.” He cupped her cheek, wiping away the tears that fell in fat, salty bubbles.
She looked to Kellen. “But what if you don’t like Solana? I know we look almost exactly alike, but we must have differences that you’ll notice when . . .” She snapped her mouth shut, shooting Uriel a guilty glance. Only she could bring up a fear as inappropriate as the humpety-hump in front of an archangel.
Kellen spoke then, gruff, his voice hoarse when he planted a kiss on her forehead and held her close. “I love you. You. Who you are. How you became who you are. The rest is inconsequential.”
She laughed a watery giggle. “I bet you wouldn’t be saying that if I had a lumpy ass.”
Tilting her chin up, his eyes honed in on hers. “No. You’re wrong. But I look at it this way—someday, whether you like it or not—you will have a lumpy ass and that’s just life as a mere mortal. And even then, I’ll still love you.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “What am I thinking? Leaving my spectral body has its disadvantages.”
“Honey?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Get in the body. Now.”
She touched her lips to his briefly before looking to Uriel. “You promise Carlos won’t be scarred by this? I need to know that.”
Uriel held up two fingers. “Archangel’s honor.”
“You’ll get Little Anthony and poor Rick home safely? Can you do the mojo thing to them, too? You know, so they don’t remember?”
Jamming his hands in the pockets of his shorts, he rocked back on his bare heels. “You betcha.”
“And Darwin. Oh, God. What about Darwin? I won’t be able to see him anymore. I never thought I’d shed a single tear over that meddling half-breed, but if not for him, I never would have survived this.”
“Who is Darwin, honey?”
“I’ll explain later. Promise,” she said to Kellen, then touched Uriel’s arm. “You know who I mean, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I got it covered. I can’t say when or where, but you’ll see Darwin again. That’s a promise.”
With a deep breath, Marcella knelt before her granddaughter, marveling at the uncanny resemblance to herself. Wanting to tell her how endlessly grateful she was for this chance to be with her family. To share with her how much she would have liked to have known Solana the child, the woman, the mother she’d become. She wanted to whisper soothing words at the loss of her husband as she rocked her. To tell her she herself knew loss and how devastating it could be. She wanted to bid her vaya con Dios, safe passage as she crossed, but all she could manage was “Thank you” in a trembling whisper and then her eyes sought Uriel’s once again. “You will thank her, won’t you? For me. I’ll never be able to say that enough,” she choked out.
Placing a hand on her shoulder, Uriel whispered, “You got it,” just before he gave her a slight nudge, sending her tumbling into Solana’s prone form.
The transition wasn’t anything
like possessing Rick. It was as though she hovered on a cloud for a moment, weightless and lighter than a feather. Then the cold ground was seeping under her thin shirt and her hands were touching her face.
Kellen knelt beside her, setting Carlos, still sound asleep, on his knee. Instantly her hands went to Carlos, running them over his silky hair, trailing a finger across his freckled nose, bringing his hand to her lips. She kissed the tip of each finger. To feel his skin near hers, to touch him made more tears flow from her eyes. Pulling her up to his chest, Kellen invited her into the circle of his arms.
Strong, confident arms that held Carlos and now her. Grateful tears slid down Marcella’s face, soaking the shoulder of his jacket.
Uriel bent at the waist and placed his palm on Carlos’s head. He closed his eyes, then popped them open and smiled. “So I’m out, peeps. You stay hard-core, Marcella, and, Kellen, give this gift-of-sight thing some time, dude. Once you catch the wave, it’ll be a rad ride. Promise.”
Just as he rose to leave, Marcella gripped his hand. She had no words. Nothing flippant or funny to say in the way of the kind of thanks she so wanted to express.
Instead, she let her eyes meet the archangel’s before she closed them and held her face skyward.
In deep appreciation.
Uriel’s lips brushed Marcella’s forehead and he whispered, “Safe journey, wahine.” With the sign for hang loose, he was gone.
They sat on the steps at the entryway to Carlos’s apartment for a long time, fingers entwined, Carlos safely wrapped in her arms, Kellen’s jacket around her shoulders. In silence. In thought. In awed reverence.
When Kellen finally spoke, his voice was scratchy and filled with emotion. “So, I’ve been thinking.”
“Do tell.”
“We’ll have to take this slowly. This thing we have going on.”
“Because of Carlos and Mrs. Ramirez.”
“Your daughter-in-law, uh, mother. Yes. Because of them.”
She smiled. “Absolutely.”
“You do know there’s nothing more I’d like to do than have my way with you right here on the steps, right?”
Her grin grew wider. “I’m right there with you.” Then she sighed with a forlorn exhale.
“But Carlos has been through a lot. So we do this the right way—for him. Set a good example on how to woo the woman of your dreams.”
“You mean the way two normal human people do it?” Marcella couldn’t even imagine it, but she was willing to try. Willing, willing, willing.
“Yep. All normal-like.”
“I’m down. Sooo down.”
“Good to know. So, Marcell . . . uh, Solana Ramirez, I’m Kellen Markham. I think you’re hot. Wanna grab a burger? Maybe catch a movie? Make out?”
There was nothing—nothing that sounded more heavenly. Giggling, Marcella gathered Carlos in her arms and rose. She kissed Kellen on the lips she hoped to kiss for as long as she had life in her. “That’s so average. Is this how you plan to wow me, ghost whisperer?”
Rubbing his nose against hers, he chuckled. “Do you think you can forgo floating and possession in favor of average?”
Eyeing him, she said, “Have I told you how much I love a big juicy hamburger with onions?”
“That’s a pretty average thing to like,” he teased with a husky chuckle.
“Well, I’m a pretty average girl.”
“You’re anything but average,” he murmured, taking her lips in a possessive kiss she returned, but had to reluctantly pull away from if they were going to get the average-dating thing right.
“So tomorrow night at seven?”
“Can I bring Carlos?”
He grinned. Delicious, wide, heart stopping. “You’d disappoint me if you didn’t.”
“Then tomorrow at seven. I’ll pencil you in.” With the heavy weight of Carlos in her arms, Marcella turned to head up the stairs. To her new surroundings.
To her family.
To her new life.
epilogue
Marcella Acosta Solana Ramirez sat on the bench of the playground, keeping a watchful eye on the most precious gift she’d ever been given while she waited to share a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, her specialty, with her other precious gift. Delaney sat beside her, enjoying the cool, early fall afternoon. As a pair, they sat in quiet harmony. To this day, every now and again, they’d glance at each other—sharing the knowledge of just how precious this gift they’d both been given was.
It had been over six months since that night on the playground. Six months filled with so many wonderfully rich, utterly normal events they’d be countless if Marcella didn’t purposefully count every last one of them.
These past few months had been an adjustment period. A time that involved Marcella stumbling around in the dark while she parented Carlos (and he sometimes parented her) and learned how not to burn a box of good macaroni and cheese, to throw a baseball, do fourth-grade math, and play video games. It had been a time of quiet evenings on the front stoop, coffee in hand, with her son, David, who filled her with stories of her sister, Isabella, and his life as a young boy, completing the pictures Marcella had created in her mind, bringing them to life with colorful words.
It had been a time of much laughter, the kind that made tears stream from your eyes and your stomach hurt, such as when Mrs. Ramirez, uh, her mother, had attempted to teach her how to make tamales. It had been a time of bittersweet irony, such as finding out that Solana’s middle name was Marcella due to Isabella’s mysterious insistence. There’d also been the relief when Kellen explained he loved the name Marcella so much, he was going to call her that from now on because he secretly kept screwing it up.
And there was Kellen, who indeed took things slowly, courting her the way any respectful suitor would. With flowers, with a box of those chocolate-covered cherries she loved so much, with nights filled with predictable things like dinner at six, and the weekly TV shows they watched like clockwork—holding hands on the couch cuddled under a blanket. The long, smoldering kisses good night on her front stoop while they waited the proper amount of time to consummate their relationship.
Which had ended up feeling like forevah, but was in reality only two months.
They’d found a routine—a niche—a joy in the simple things life had to offer.
And it was bliss. The kind of bliss Marcella had once thought involved only jet-setting and shopping.
“Hey, Aunt D?”
Delaney looked up with a warm smile from the stroller she rocked with a lazy foot that held her and Clyde’s newly adopted little girl from China. “What’s up, little man?”
Carlos held a cat in his arms, scraggly and matted. “I found him over by the lady with the poodle from, uh . . . France. The fluffy white one who comes here every day. He says he knows you guys. His name’s Darwin. Can we keep him, Mom?” He grinned.
Marcella’s heart heaved, not quite as sharply as it once had when she’d first heard her new official title, but it still shivered with love. She cocked her head. “Did you say Darwin?” No. No way.
Carlos nodded his dark head, running his chin over the top of the stray cat’s ears and giggling. “Uh-huh. He said he knows you and Aunt D from a long time ago and that”—he paused for a moment, clearly struggling to get the words right—“he’s done the most hey-nus thing in order to be with his family. Then he said something about trading Mr. Peabody in, but I can’t remember the rest. It didn’t make sense.” He wrinkled his young brow, trying to piece together the message from the great beyond until one of his friends called him from the monkey bars. “So I think we should keep him.”
He dropped the cat in Marcella’s lap in an unceremonious heap, giving it an errant scratch on its multicolored head before running off to play on the monkey bars with his new friends—of which he now had many. With the help of Delaney, Marcella, and mostly Kellen, Carlos was coming to grips with his gift of sight. He’d learned to cross souls with expertise, and he’d taught Kellen the kin
d of patience and sensitivity only a child can bring when handling an angry spirit. Though Kellen was still a work in progress, he was back doing what he loved, while her mother, Mrs. Ramirez, tended the store, and he’d learned to keep the spirits calm and cooperative during school hours.
Marcella scooped the cat up, her heart chugging at an alarming rate, tears filling her eyes. Mr. Peabody . . . was it really even possible?
“No way,” Delaney muttered, her eyes wide when she exchanged surprised looks with Marcella.
“Uriel said I’d see him again. But this”—she held him up in the air to examine him—“had to be the ultimate sacrifice for him. He was a Rottweiler, for God’s sake, D—a purebred. Now he’s some mixed-breed cat. And, from the looks of things, a female mixed breed. You must be devastated, huh, Kibble King? But look what you did in order to find us.” Marcella hugged him close while his legs dangled in midair. “Is that really you?” She sniffed his fur, wrinkling her nose. “You smell like the stench of a thousand rotting souls.” Scratching his ears, she looked into his deep green eyes. “Where have you been? How did you get into this body? Never mind. I don’t care. I’m sooo glad to see you!” She ran her fingers along the bones of his visible ribs. “You’re so skinny. Wait—I have food.”
Marcella handed Darwin to Delaney, who peered deeply into Darwin’s eyes. “Darwin, is that you in there?” The cat gave her a haughty glance, tilting his chin up and away from her prying eyes.
“Look, Darwin,” Marcella cooed, holding out her hand to him. “It’s Goldfish!” she said triumphantly, shuffling the crackers in her hand.
Darwin regarded them for a mere moment before tipping his chin back into the haughty position he’d given Delaney.
Marcella nodded with a grin. “That’s gotta be him. He was always such a food snob.”
“Who? You can’t mean me. I eat burned tamales every night for dinner and all for the sake of love,” Kellen teased, reaching around his sister to give Marcella a gentle kiss and a smile that never failed to warm her from head to toe. Carlos caught sight of him and ran up to knock knuckles with him, his lips spreading into a wide smile.
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