Wren just stared at him, her mouth opening and closing like she was going to say something, but her thoughts were so loud and so jumbled she couldn’t find a place to begin.
He’d seen Bridgette? Was she okay? Was she happy?
Could this really be happening?
His brows drew up, questioning. “Do you want to talk to her?”
The air left Wren’s lungs on a rush as she nodded. “Yeah. Yes. I want to talk to her.”
Callum’s smile was broad and happy. “Okay, yeah. Let me put on shoes. I’ll meet you in the backyard.”
“Wait. Now?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, why not? It’s the least I can do after everything you did for us today. And I’d do it anyway, even if you hadn’t just saved our lives.”
Is this for real? Just minutes ago, she’d been entertaining the idea of letting Bridgette silently guide her hand while she chose tarot cards—now she was about to talk to her. Through a medium, but talk to her nonetheless. Wren nodded. “Okay.”
A couple of minutes later, Wren was standing on the patio listening to crickets chirp as she breathed in the humid-thick New Orleans night air. The sound of the back door cracking open made her turn. Callum came padding down the couple of steps with Cecily on his heels and Rhia behind her.
“I brought back-up,” he explained, motioning to Cecily who raised a hand as if to say “that’s me. I’m the back-up.”
Wren went to say something—anything in response—but when words failed her, Cecily gave her a smile and looped her arm through hers. “We gotta walk into the grass where she can come through.”
So Wren let Cecily lead the way, arm and arm.
“What’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“Bridgette.” Wren’s lips were numb.
“That’s fitting. I didn’t realize she was your girlfriend or I’d have said something sooner,” Cecily said quietly as they neared the center of the yard. “She’s beautiful. I’m sorry for your loss.” Then she turned like someone had said her name—someone Wren couldn’t see.
“Hey, Trey. This is Wren. Can you let Bridgette through if she’s here? She’s the spirit who hangs around us a lot—the pretty blond one.”
Wren’s heart was beating so hard she could hardly draw a breath.
Cecily laughed quietly, then looked to Callum. “Why don’t you start us off, Cal.”
Callum took a single step along the grass, toward empty air, and smiled. “Hi, Bridgette. I’m Callum. I see you a lot, but I’ve never introduced myself.”
Wren’s eyes filled with tears that went skating down her face when she blinked. Cecily, who was still holding onto her arm, gave it a squeeze. Then a tissue was being tucked into Wren’s hand.
“Not my first rodeo,” Cecily whispered when Wren threw her a glance.
She gave a quiet laugh and wiped her eyes—just as Callum turned to her.
“She can see you,” he said. “She says she’s with you every day.”
Some cross between a sob and a laugh erupted from Wren’s chest.
This was really happening.
“I know. She’s always with me. She—” she revised herself, her breath catching on tears. “Thank her for all of her help.”
“You thank her,” Cecily said, her voice quiet. “She can hear you. We just have to talk for her.”
Wren looked around the yard, at Callum and Cecily, and all the empty space. She closed her eyes because looking at nothing felt wrong, and staring at Callum or Cecily wasn’t any better.
It felt right to close her eyes. It felt easier.
In her mind, she pictured Bridgette how she remembered her, light and happy, and so brilliantly smart. Her golden hair was long and thick; the soft green of her eyes was the color of sage; her lips were soft pink like the palest rose petals. Everything about her was glowing with joy.
“I miss you,” she whispered, a fresh stream of tears painting her cheeks.
“I miss you,” Bridgette said in Cecily’s voice. “But I’m here. Always.”
“How—how are you? Are you healthy there?” Wren hadn’t ever wondered that before, not consciously, but now that she was standing here, talking to her Bridgette, she had to know. When she died, had she been healed?
The strength of her hope for that made her sway on her feet. If Bridgette was healed—maybe that made everything worth it.
“Completely healthy,” Bridgette said. “I feel incredible.”
Wren’s hands slapped over her face and a sob tore up her throat. She felt Cecily unthread their arms and rub her back.
“Please don’t cry for me,” Bridgette said. “I’m well, Wren. I was never going to be well on that side. And you deserve someone you can be fully you with. You have such incredible gifts to offer the world—to offer the someone you’ll someday meet. There are wonderful things on the horizon for you. Don’t let missing me make you miss them.”
Wren sucked a shuddering breath in through her lips. “How can I look forward to anything without you?”
How could she look forward when every plan she’d made—they’d made—was gone now?
“You must. I’ll be here always, watching you lead your life, basking in the knowledge that I got to be part of you. That I got to be part of the incredible life you get to live.” Cecily’s voice delivering Bridgette’s words got firmer, stronger. “But you have to live it. Go live it, Wren.”
“Live it for you,” Wren whispered through tears. But how could she do that?
“No.” There was grit in her voice now. A tenacity and will Wren had missed so much it nearly took her breath away to hear it. “Live it for YOU.”
Wren could see her, the Bridgette in her mind’s eye, leaning into her, squeezing her arm, her green eyes piercing and fierce.
“I’m done living,” Bridgette said, her eyes softening with understanding and sympathy. “I love you, but I’m done living, Wren. And I’m not sad about it. So don’t you be sad about it either.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cecily took the tote bag off her shoulder, heavy with bottles of water and various road snacks, and hoisted it up onto the floorboard of the passenger side of the moving truck cab. The truck rocked slightly, but not because of the load she’d just added, Callum and Scott were in the back putting the finishing touches on their efforts to secure the contents and ensure their safe arrival in Seattle.
She shut the door with a resounding slam and redid her messy knot of a ponytail as she headed toward Zander, who was standing some feet away from the back of the truck with her hands on her hips. Her short, dark hair was on-purpose-messy, and the darkness was now barely visible beneath her eyes—so much lighter than it had been for the first couple of days after she’d woken up.
Cecily sidled up alongside her with her hands in the back pockets of her cut offs.
Rhia, who’d been lounging in some shade in the grass hoisted her big dog body up and lumbered over to stand next to her.
“Admiring the view?” Cecily asked her sister with a smirk as she gave Rhia a pat on the side. Cecily likewise admired the view of Scott and Callum doing whatever the hell they were doing in the back of the truck. It looked like a lot of tugging on knots, and rearranging boxes. All things Cecily was happy not to be participating in.
Zander shrugged with a smirk of her own. “Hasn’t gotten old yet.”
Cecily smiled but chose not to continue down that vein. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” Zander replied. “I feel good. Better every day. Thanks again for letting Callum take your plane ticket.”
Cecily shrugged. “Not a problem. I had to call to change the return date anyway—why not change the whole thing?”
Zander gave her a sideways glance with a smile. “It was cool of you. Not that you’re coming out totally raw in the deal.”
Cecily fought a wicked grin but kept her mouth shut in response.
“And four days, instead of the originally scheduled three,” Zander remarked suggestively.
&
nbsp; Okay, she had to respond to that. “Because Scott won’t let me drive the truck!” she exclaimed in mock defense. “Because I’m not twenty-five years old or some shit.”
Zander’s chuckle was low.
“Hey, Callum got to go say bye to his mom yesterday, right?” Cecily asked.
Zander nodded, eyes trained on Callum as he jumped down from the back of the truck and went around to the side like he was looking at the tires or something. “We both went, yeah.”
“She really can’t see the other side now?” Cecily didn’t know that could happen. She’d just figured once a medium, always a medium.
“It seems that way,” Zander replied. “She’s a lot calmer now but... a lot more disconnected too. Even Callum said so. He thinks that’s why she can’t see spirits anymore. But the silver lining was that she didn’t freak out when she saw me, so... that was nice.”
Cecily chuckled. “That’s a considerable plus. Does that mean she’s she getting better, or...?”
Zander shook her head. “The doctors said it’s actually progression of her condition. Some people become more agitated—others, less so. Which is what they think is happening with her. Beginning of the end, I guess.”
Cecily’s chest ached. “God, that sucks.”
Zander only nodded.
The two stood, side by side, for a moment or two longer. Cecily watched Callum lift the hood of the truck, do something she couldn’t see, then slam it shut again. She watched Scott shift the last couple boxes, his tattooed arms flexing.
“You realize we’re sisters, dating brothers, right?” Zander remarked out of the blue.
Cecily scoffed. “They’re not technically brothers,” she said, “so we managed to skip that particular cliché, I think.”
Zander laughed as Callum drew near, coming around the side of the truck and making his way toward them. Scott hopped down from the back of the truck a moment later and did the same.
“What’s funny?” Callum asked as he reached them. Cecily saw him discreetly slide a hand onto the small of Zander’s back.
“Nothing important,” Zander replied, turning toward him.
“Well, probably time to head out, huh?” Callum said as Scott joined them.
“While we still have some daylight left for the first leg, yeah,” Scott agreed. “Otherwise we’ll be driving until midnight to make it to the first stop.” He slid a hand onto the back of Cecily’s neck, letting his fingers trail into her hair. Her skin warmed pleasantly. But with the next breath, he was letting her go so he could step forward and clasp hands with Callum. Then the two went in for a quick boy-hug, slapping one another on the backs while they did it.
Cecily took the opportunity to turn to Zander, who raised her arms at the very moment Cecily did.
“Be safe,” Zander said as Cecily hugged her.
“I will,” Cecily replied.
“And text lots of pics along the way,” Zander added as she stepped back.
“You got it.”
Then all that was left was to go.
Cecily opened the door and let Rhia jump up into the cab of the truck, where she settled herself nicely into the passenger seat.
“Uh, no,” Cecily said, motioning her to the back of the dual cab. “Back seat. Maybe you can chill at my feet—if you’re good.”
She could have sworn Rhia rolled her eyes before gracefully bounding between the two front seats into the back.
Cecily pulled herself up into the cab of the truck and plopped down on the passenger seat, which bounced slightly in response.
The driver’s side door opened, and she looked over to see Scott do much the same thing—only with more grace because he had a number of inches on her that made the climb into the cab require less effort.
“Ready?” he asked after snapping on his seatbelt.
“Ready,” Cecily agreed. “I’ve got waters, snacks. Rhia is in back, and seatbelt is—” she reached, took the seatbelt in her hand, pulled it across and snapped the end into the base, “on and secure.”
Scott laughed and cranked the ignition, and for a flash of a moment, Cecily hoped the thing wouldn’t start—wished she didn’t yet have to go back to the real world.
Not that the return would be immediate.
And not that the real world she was returning to wasn’t something to look forward to in and of itself.
She’d spent the last year on hold. Now she was finally moving forward—no more holding pattern. No more not knowing what to do next. She was on a path she loved, a path she couldn’t wait to travel down, to see what came next around every turn, and it felt so good to be here. It felt so good to be living her life again instead of just existing within it.
“You’re gonna let me drive a little, right?” she asked as Scott checked and adjusted his mirrors.
“Nope,” he replied. “But I will let you adjust the mirror on your side. Angle it up, like, a couple degrees?”
Cecily rolled her window down and did as he instructed. “Good?”
“Good,” he agreed. “And no, you still can’t drive the truck.”
“Because I’m a chick?”
He gave her a look of disgust. “Jesus, no. Because your name isn’t on the paperwork and I don’t want either of our assess on the line if something happened while you were driving.”
Damn, that was sound reasoning. Still, she sighed dramatically for effect. “Fine, no driving. But, yes to sex in every state we pass through though, right?”
Scott laughed as he put the truck in drive. “Oh, hell yes. At least once.” Then he laid his hand on the console between them, palm up, wordlessly asking for hers, which she gave without pause. He closed his fingers over the back of her hand and gave a squeeze.
But then he paused when she expected him to go, his eyes glued on the side mirror beside him.
“Hard to close a chapter?” Cecily surmised.
He shook his head, like shaking himself out of a thought, and smiled. “Sort of,” he replied. Then he looked at her and squeezed her hand again. “Not so hard when I think about the chapter that’s opening, though. It just feels monumental somehow. Doesn’t it?”
He was right. It did feel like a big step. The perfect, giant jump of a step. “We’re moving in together,” she said. “If that’s not a leap forward, I don’t know what is.”
He laughed, took his foot off the break, and let the truck start rolling. He paused at the end of the driveway, peering down both directions on the street, even though it was a one way, before trundling them forward again, turning onto the small road.
“I’m not worried about living with you,” he said, throwing her a glance.
She smiled, glad to hear him say what she’d been thinking. “I’m not worried either.”
No, she wasn’t worried. Just eager to start.
EPILOGUE
The stairs creaked, the RV resettling as Wren unlocked her front door, holding the storm door open with her hip while she did it.
“Honey, I’m home,” she said under her breath as she pushed the door open. She threw her keys onto the kitchen counter, and tossed the jacket she hadn’t needed onto the bench seat at the postage stamp excuse for a dining table. Then she swung her purse around from where it had been tucked on the small of her back before unlooping the thing from her shoulders and tossing it on top of her coat.
She crossed to the sink and reached for her favorite (read: only) mug. Then she cranked on the tap, snagged the electric kettle sitting not far from where her mug had been, and shoved it under the running water. A few moments later, kettle crackling quietly as it began to heat, she pulled a bag of loose tea leaves down from one of the two upper cabinets and tapped a few into the bottom of her cup.
Now all there was to do was wait for the water to boil.
She crossed the tiny space to a wall lined with greenery, where dozens of plants grew in hydroponic vessels, the water in each container chortling happily. Wren thought it sounded like laughter. She observed the plants one b
y one, plucking browned petals and leaves, checking water levels and the heat from the full spectrum lights overhead.
It was probably time to rotate the containers again, she thought, at the same time the electric kettle clicked, turning itself off once the water had come to a boil.
“Sweet.” Wren crossed back to the kitchen, plucked the kettle off its powered base and filled her mug, watching the tea leaves swirl and dance in the tiny torrent of hot water.
“So, Callum and Zander got off okay,” she said as she settled herself into the ugly, green, vintage wing back chair Callum and Scott had happily given her when she commented on its ugly-awesomeness. She planned to rip out a bank of bench seating in the little bump out at the back of the RV so she could position the chair in a well of sunlight that filtered down from the sun-roof overhead. It was right next to her plants and with the benefit of the bright LEDs, the little space felt more solarium than used-to-be-where-the-bedroom-was. For now, however, it sat awkwardly in the middle of the tiny room so it was more obstacle than accent.
“Their flight was delayed by an hour, but they got the alert before we even left. So we got a beer before heading out.” She took a long sip from her tea.
Damn that was good.
Wren had let the A/C run while she was gone, so the RV was cool enough to make this hot tea actually enjoyable. She wouldn’t be drinking it otherwise, except she needed to so she could be certain of the decision she was about to make.
She sipped in silence a while longer, listening to that cheery chortling water all around her, and thinking again about the conversation she’d had with Bridgette’s spirit, through Callum and Cecily, those nights ago. In the end, they’d spoken for nearly an hour. Wren would have kept talking all night but Bridgette eventually ended it, telling Wren to go get some sleep. She’d crashed out on the sofa, unable to drive home until the wee hours of the morning.
They’d talked about so much. Little things, and big things. Important things, and stuff so mundane it made Wren smile to think about—primarily that she needed to get a better mattress on “that sad excuse for a bed,” as Bridgette had put it.
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