The Reason

by Marley Gibson

  "Of course you can, my darling Kendall. I've been expecting you."

  I swallow hard. My heart seems like it will burst with all the love filling it.

  "Gr-Gr-Grandma Ethel!"

  And I fall into her open arms.

  Chapter Fourteen

  IT'S THE BEST HUG I've ever had in my life.

  I push back slightly and smile into my grandmother's face.

  "They told me you were coming, child, and I didn't believe them." She takes a lace handkerchief and dabs at my eyes. "It's way too soon for you to be here."

  My head swivels as I take in the awe-inspiring scenery, which seems to sparkle as if it's just been buffed by an army of maids and a case of Mr. Clean.

  "Where exactly is here?" I ask, biting my bottom lip.

  She waves the handkerchief around in the air. "Oh, you know..."

  No, I don't, exactly—that's why I asked. I hold my tongue, though. I've never felt so warm and loved and comforted and supported. It's like I don't have a care in the world as I sit in a chair next to my grandmother in this lovely locale.

  I swallow hard and shift my eyes to hers. "I've missed you so much."

  Grandma Ethel rocks in her chair as she folds the hankie and returns it to the pocket of her dress. "I've been watching you, my darling. You and Kaitlin are growing up so fast. You mustn't fight with each other so much. Sisters should be best friends, like Pansy and I were."

  Aunt Pansy was Grandma's older sister; she lived in Boca Raton and had nine cats. For Christmas each year she used to send us logs of cheese and pepperoni from Swiss Colony's mail-order. Why I'm thinking about this right now, I have no earthly clue.

  Then again ... is this still Earth?

  I take my grandma's hand. "Seriously. Where am I? Am I ... dead?"

  She sets her hand on my cheek and smiles at me. "My darling. You're in some sort of in-between stage. You took a terrible spill down there and your body needs time to heal. While those doctors work on you, it seems your soul wanted to take a little field trip."

  "So I'm not exactly alive but I'm not dead ... yet."

  "Semantics," she says with a laugh.

  I'm distracted by the purring at my feet. Smokey threads in and out of my legs while he vibrates like a motorboat. I bend down and scoop him into my lap, nuzzling his warm, soft fur. "Baby kitty, I've missed you so much. Why did you run out of the house and in front of that truck?"

  "He knew you were coming," Grandma says. "Keeps me company a lot. Never seen him this happy."

  "Grandma, forgive me for saying this, but you're, like, dead ... and so is Smokey. If I'm still alive, how can I see you?"

  She lets out a sigh as if searching for the right words. "You see a lot of things, Kendall. It's a skill and a talent that our Lord blessed you with."

  I rub Smokey between the ears, and it hits me. "I thought I was just having an out-of-body experience. It's more than that. This is a near-death experience. I've read about it. The white light. The music. The sense of utter happiness." I gaze into Smokey's green eyes. "Seeing your lost loved ones."

  "Yes, dear," Grandma confirms. "You're in your own version of paradise until you make your decision."

  I scrunch up my mouth and lower my brows. "And what decision is that?"

  Grandma says, "To cross over or return to your life."

  The thump in my chest lets me know my heart is still beating. I still have life in me.

  "You said it's not my time."

  "I don't think so," she says.

  I gather Smokey tighter into my arms and continue to pet him. He closes his little kitty eyes and curls up. He always was a little snuggle bug. I sit quietly with Grandma Ethel, unsure of how much time passes. The air is so crisp and fresh, no smog or pollution, and no dust from peanut or soybean crops. For a while, we just ... are.

  Grandma breaks the silence. "Your move from Chicago to Radisson hasn't been easy on you."

  I shake my head and watch my hair move back and forth. Smokey lifts a paw and swats at a long curl on my chest. "No, ma'am. It's hard being a fish out of water like that. I kind of stick out like a sore thumb. But I've made some really great friends, and I have a nice boyfriend."

  Well, I had a nice boyfriend.

  "People will come and go throughout your life, my child. The ones who really matter will stick to you like peanut butter on the roof of your mouth," my grandma says.

  I snicker at her colloquialism.

  "That Jason is a sweet boy."

  "How? What?" Oh, right—she's been "checking in" on me. Wonder if that means she's seen us make out as many times as Emily has. A hot blush covers me from head to toe just thinking about it.

  "Don't you worry your pretty little head any. He's your first love. First loves are always important. I remember my first love. Name was Homer. He was the minister's son. Used to bring me hard candy all the time."

  I'm desperately fighting the image of Homer Simpson dating a teenage version of my grandmother. LOL!

  "Jason's moving to Alaska," I say somberly. "I guess that means we have to break up. In fact, I think we already sort of have, since we had this big fight."

  She reaches over and puts her hand on my arm. "Kendall, your first love will always be with you. Sometimes, though, first loves are simply that. They're the ones you cut your teeth on, so to speak. They're the ones that help you mature and grow and prepare for your more adult relationships."

  "Yeah ... maybe," I say.

  "Listen to your grandma. You're young and you have the rest of your life ahead of you—if you so choose. You have to be strong and confident. When you go back, everything is going to be different."

  "I know. Jason and Taylor will be leaving soon."

  Her eyes soften. "I'm not just talking about that, darling."

  Cocking my head the side, I ask, "What do you mean?"

  "You're a sensitive girl, and because of that, you'll have challenges in your life. You just need to pay attention to the signs around you that can easily answer the questions you have."

  "What questions?" I ask with a question. Okay, she's starting to speak in riddles.

  "You'll see, Kendall. You've been blessed with a gift. One inherited through your family. Use your skills wisely as you age. Cleave to those you trust and love. Never doubt yourself."

  Smokey stretches and hops out of my lap. Grandma bends to pick him up. "Time for you and me to get going, kitty cat."

  I reach out for them. "But wait! There's so much more I want to talk to you about."

  She blows me a kiss. "There will be another opportunity. People are worried about you, Kendall. Don't keep them waiting any longer."

  "Grandma! Smokey! Don't leave!"

  Everything darkens. There's no sound. No light.

  I don't know if she is taken from me or I'm taken from her. But immediately, I'm whisked out of the serene garden and dropped unceremoniously into the corner of an antiseptic hospital room, where I see Mom, Dad, and Kaitlin keeping watch over me.

  "Guys! Over here!" I shout at them, but they hear nothing.

  To my left is ... well ... me.

  Holy crap! That's me. My physical body is lying supine under the tight white sheets. IVs are hooked into my arm.

  My head is bandaged and my brown hair is pulled back from my face. A thick ace bandage encases my right arm. Heart monitors steadily beep away, getting information from the wires attached to my back and chest. A nurse enters to check my vitals and make notes in a chart. Mom looks beat, like she hasn't slept in days. Kaitlin seems bored as she plays with her Nintendo DSi; however, deep down she's scared shitless that her big sister is going to be taken away from her. Dad's hair is unkempt from combing it with his fingers in the time since my accident.

  Accident.

  The accident.

  It was no accident.

  I remember clearly everything that happened. Sherry Biddison attacked me, and I took a nasty-ass fall down the stairs at Mayor Shy's house.

  Dr. Murphy, my mom
's boss, enters the room, trying to be cheerful. "How's my favorite family today?"

  Mom lifts sad eyes to the doctor. "Still keeping watch over our girl. It's been three days now and still no change."

  He flips through the chart that the ICU nurse hands him. "Her vital signs are strong and her blood pressure is steady. She's recovering nicely from the simple pneumothorax she was suffering from when the ambulance brought her in."

  Pnuemo-what? Where's Wikipedia when I need it?

  Fortunately, my kid sister pipes up. "What does that mean?"

  Mom touches her with her hand. "Kendall had a partially collapsed lung from the spill she took down the stairs. The doctors had to put a tube in her chest to gently suction out the air surrounding her lung so her lung could properly expand again."

  Kaitlin grimaces. "Like, eww—sorry I asked."

  Always the brat.

  Dr. Murphy's eyes zip over my chart and he draws a quick breath of air. He then closes my chart and folds it under his arm. He removes his glasses and places them into the front pocket of his white coat. He's not part of the team of doctors that have been attending to me here at Radisson Memorial Hospital. However, owing to his closeness with my mom, he's trying to comfort my family.

  "Sarah and David—do you mind if I speak with you two alone?"

  Dad turns to my sister and says, "Kaitlin, why don't you run down to the cafeteria and order a milk shake."

  She closes the cover of her DSi, rolls her eyes, and tromps out of the room. The nurse follows after her.

  Dr. Murphy slides the door closed and then takes a chair next to my mother. "Sarah, you're a nurse, so I'm going to tell this to you straight."

  "Of course, Doctor."

  Dad moves closer and laces his fingers through Mom's. I slip from the corner of the room over to where my body rests. How can I get back into it? Do I lie down on the bed and hope my spirit melds into my flesh? Do I need Loreen to come tether me to my skin?

  I snap my fingers—or at least I think I do. Not really sure it if works in this spirit form I'm in. In any case, I have an idea. I'll go talk to Celia. G'friend has been wanting a paranormal experience, and, boy, do I have one for her.

  I stop in my tracks, though, when something Dr. Murphy says knocks me back to semireality.

  "—and it seems she's going to need a further blood transfusion."

  Dad speaks. "Sarah and I both gave when Kendall came in the other day. The ER nurse said it was standard for family members to donate."

  Dr. Murphy sits forward. "I understand that, David. Kendall continues to have internal bleeding, even after we removed her spleen—"

  Removed my what? Youch! Great, I'll be scarred for life.

  Continuing, he says, "This is more serious, though. She has already received the supply of O negative that Radisson Memorial had in its bank. We can get some Medevaced out from Atlanta, I was asked to discuss this with you first because of the circumstances."

  Mom and Dad exchange knowing glances. "As I'm sure you both know, Kendall is O negative, which means she can be a universal donor. However, she can't receive anything but O negative. And both you and your wife are AB positive. So is your youngest, Kaitlin."

  "We can explain, Dr. Murphy."

  I walk over to my mother and attempt to put my hand on her shoulder to connect with her. I'm not the science geek that Celia is, but I'm smart enough to know that something's not adding up here. "Yeah, Mom, please explain."

  How can my own family—my own flesh and blood—not be a match for me in terms of a blood donation? That makes no sense. Not Mom? Not Dad? Hell, I'd even take bratty Kaitlin's blood, but hers doesn't match either!

  Mom's eyes fill with tears that wet the tips of her dark lashes as she blinks hard.

  "There's a reason for that," Mom starts. Her hand goes to her throat as her voice catches. Dad squeezes her shoulder for support. "Kendall isn't our natural-born child. We adopted her at birth."

  Chapter Fifteen

  HOLD THE FREAKIN' PHONE!

  Are you kidding me?

  I'm... adopted?

  Trembling knees refuse to hold up even my ethereal body, and I collapse to the floor in a heap. WTF? My life so far has been one big farce. Lies. Lies on top of lies. A charade. A sham, travesty, mockery—and an absolutely ridonkulous situation.

  The rest of my parents' conversation with Dr. Murphy is lost in my tumbled thoughts. My eyes dart between Mom and Dad. Between David and Sarah Moorehead. Who are these people? Where did they get me from? Did I come from the stork? Or from an underprivileged orphanage? Was I a prom baby no one wanted? Was I rescued from a dumpster or dropped off at a baby Safe Haven?

  If I had a pulse, I'm sure it would be racing wildly. If I had a heart, I'm sure it would be breaking in half. Let's see the doctors try and mend that.

  Everything I've known for seventeen years no longer exists.

  I remember back to one of the first times I hung out with Loreen. She hugged me and had some sort of vision that I had lost my mother like she had. Well, damn it all if she wasn't right. Sarah Moorehead, the woman who taught me to tie my shoes and make cookies. The lady who punished me when I was bad and brought me Tylenol for Children when I was sick. The person who took me to my first dance recital and sat in the front row cheering even though I made an ass of myself as one of the mice in The Nutcracker. That woman is not my mother. Loreen once told me that my mother died in childbirth. And it's true.

  I sit alone in the cold ICU room with my unconscious body. A frame that's bruised and battered and bleeding internally. One in need of further blood transfusions that the people who have clothed, fed, educated, and housed me my whole life can't give me.

  Then I realize I'm not alone.

  Emily is here.

  She wears a hospital gown, not unlike the one my earthly body is wearing. Mine is covered in mauve and teal flowers. Hers is light blue.

  There's something different about her this time. She doesn't seem so much like a ghost right now; rather, she looks like a real person. I lift my chin in her direction and link eyes with her. Soft hazel eyes, much like my own. Her hair cascades over her shoulders in loose waves. Sort of like mine—on a good hair day. Emily stretches her hand out toward me and brushes her fingers against my cheek. Her touch is warm and gentle. Warm? How can a ghost be warm?

  "Oh, Kendall," she says, her voice not inside my head this time. Her words are clear and distinct, as real as she is right now.

  "Emily." I'm barely able to get the word out for fear of acknowledging the truth in my head. "How can I feel you?"

  "Because we're on the same plane."

  "But I'm not dead ... yet."

  Her eyes widen. "It's not your time, Kendall. It's not."

  "That's what Grandma Ethel said." At least she had been my grandma; I realize now it was in name only.

  I want to cry. No tears form or drop, though. I stare at the woman before me and take in her appearance as I've never been able to do before. Ivory skin untouched by the sun. Delicate hands and small wrists. Eyes so kind and caring. Then again, she has been with me my whole life. All at once, it becomes crystal clear. The lullabies that were hummed to me as a baby. The protection and guidance I've gotten since my awakening. The warnings over visions, dreams, and interactions with spirits who have an ax to grind.

  Emily and I just stare at each other.

  There are no words exchanged between us.

  Hell, I'm psychic, remember? I just ... know.

  "You're my birth mother," I whisper.

  She smiles at me and stretches out her arms.

  For a moment, I'm at peace. Like when I was in the near-heavenly garden with Grandma Ethel and Smokey. For a second, there's finally an explanation for who I am and where I came from and why I have these abilities. They were inherited. From my family. A family I never knew because of a tragic accident.

  Emily cradles me to her, her long-lost love pouring out to me in waves that need no thoughts or words combined with them
. Her lips touch my forehead and she rocks me tenderly.

  "Everything will be okay."

  "But I have so many questions—"

  "Shhhh ... not now. Another day."

  "You promise we can talk? You'll quit playing games and tell me everything?"

  Emily nods her head. "It's time for you to go back. You have unfinished business."

  "But Em—"

  She fades away. I hunch over in near exhaustion from the news and events. I'm so tired. I want to sleep. I want to go back to that meadow and play with Smokey. I want to talk to my mom ... and my ... mom. So many questions. Not enough answers. I'm dizzy. I'm nauseated. I feel like I've been beaten to within an inch of my life. I need blood. The doctor said so. None in their donor bank. I'm fading fast. No energy to stay in this form.

  Rest first.

  Tired.

  Can't...

  I trip over to where my body lies in the hospital bed. If I can reconnect even for a little bit, maybe I can make it back. For some ludicrous reason, like useless trivia one needs only to win a game of Jeopardy!, I remember another person who is O negative. All I have to do is get a message to them. They can save me.

  Then I can save myself.

  I'm not quite sure how cool it is to sneak into someone's room like this. Of course, I've been bothered plenty of times by spirits who talk to me throughout the night, keeping me awake with their problems to the point that I practically fall asleep in class. I have no idea of what day it is or what time it is. I just know that it's dark and late.

  I can't really explain how I got into the house, but here I am. I don't need to walk up the stairs 'cause I've still got this whole floaty thing going on. At the top of the stairs, I head straight for the room that I've hung out in countless times.

  Celia is sprawled out on her queen-size bed. Her black hair is a messy mop. Her tank top is bunched up around her waist, and she has one leg thrown over the covers. She's snoring like ... a man.

  Not sure how I can wake her up. I can't touch her and I can't move items in her room to get her attention.

  Out of the blue, I get the sense that I'm being watched. Not by Celia.

  "Seamus!" I say.