by Linda Welch
“Are there any local?”
“Yeah, her name’s Tiff Banks, but she’s dead.”
I cocked my thumb. “Woman? On bed? Name’s Tiff Banks? She ain’t dead. For the last and final time, I am not a shade.”
My roommates exchanged smug looks.
The only psychic I knew couldn’t help me. Bound to the place where she died, Lynn lingered on a vast expanse of white sand east of Wendover. I never found her killer; a Gelpha, he might not be in my world. And with the Gates to Bel-Athaer closed, I couldn’t go there and try to find him.
My thoughts returned to the day I found her, her happiness and relief at no longer being alone. I went to Lynn as often as I could and knew the meetings brought both pleasure and pain. She was next on the list of shades Jack, Mel and I meant to teach how to leave their place of death.
And now I couldn’t. If I didn’t get in my body, she’d think I abandoned her.
Mel piped up. “There is that clairvoyant, Madam Magenta?”
I made one of my infamous snap decisions. “She’ll do!” Infamous because they are usually wrong.
“What is a clairvoyant?” she asked.
“They pass messages from the dead to the living, don’t they?”
“But you insist you’re not dead.”
I flicked my fingers dismissively. “A technicality. We’ll make it work.”
“Lord help us.” Jack sighed deeply. “She’s probably a quack.”
“A name like that doesn’t inspire confidence,” Mel agreed.
Madam Magenta. “It’s worth a try.” I took in their dubious expressions. “Guys, I’m desperate!”
“If you want to find the clairvoyant, we have to get out of here,” Jack said.
I practiced when nurses periodically entered the room. Jack and Mel alternatively urged, chortled, made snide remarks and some which approached helpful. I couldn’t catch an aura any more than I could snag the door.
“One thing you’ll learn fast is patience,” Jack told me in his mentoring voice.
He jerked upright and slapped both palms to his cheeks. “Tiff? Patience? What am I talking about?”
Jack’s and Mel’s idea of entertainment didn’t help my concentration. They theorized about the hospital staff, not politely, and ignored me when I tried to read them the riot act.
“Your turn,” Jack said as a nurse or aide came in to check my vitals. She walked with a kind of skipping gait, her hospital sneakers squeaked and her red hair bounced.
“Married,” Mel said and made a humming noise. She went on, “But she has a boyfriend at the hospital. They sneak in an empty cubicle and go at it like rabbits.”
Good grief. “Mel! You have no—”
Jack butted in. “Nah, she’s too heavy. Hospital beds tend to creak when you bounce on them.”
“Jack, that is so insulting! You should—”
“A supply closet?” from Mel.
“Agh! You two will drive me nuts!”
The redhead gently placed her hand on mine. “Poor dear,” she said softly. “Don’t give up on us, hon. We’ll get you through this.”
“Oh,” from Mel. She sniffled through her nose before saying, “She’s kind.”
“Not an adulterer.” Jack tightened his lips.
“She has two kids and a lovely husband. She takes in stray kittens. Her husband dislikes furry critters all over the house but puts up with them because he loves her so much.”
“And they moved across town to be near her folks, so she can care for them now they’re elderly and the dad has . . . has . . . .”
“What? What’s wrong with him?”
“Something old people get.”
With elbows on knees, I dropped my face in my hands and groaned. “For crying out loud.”
The nurse left. I prayed another one didn’t come in anytime soon. “Is this what you do with your time?”
“Nothing wrong with people-watching,” Jack said. “Everyone does it.”
“They don’t make a game of it, concocting offensive stories.”
“Sometimes we hang on and follow them to see how wrong we are,” said Mel.
“Bet you’re always wrong.”
“Always,” she agreed.
“Oh, lighten up, Tiff.” Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s a way to pass the night.”
When the next aide came in an hour later, I eyed her critically. “She lives with her boyfriend in an apartment on Fuller. It’s one of those month-to-month rentals. They bought a house in South Clarion and are renovating it. They’ll be moving soon. Their apartment lease specifies one animal less than thirty pounds, but they have a Saint Bernard named Wilbur. They smuggle him in and out.”
“Good one, Tiff, but boring,” Jack said.
I grinned. “Her name’s Jean. I saw her at Janie’s. Wilbur goes to doggy day-care six days a week.”
“You cheated,” Mel accused.
“How?”
Her lower lip stuck out in a pout. Seeing expressions on their faces gave me a weird kind of vibe, for they had them all along and I never knew. And their voices were clearer, the timbres more pronounced. Mel’s voice rang out light and high, she sang the words. Jack spoke with a slight nasal twang.
“You’re doing well with the dead thing,” Mel suddenly said as she sat on a chair.
I looked up. “Actually, I feel kind of numb.”
“You can’t!”
“Not physically, mentally. Anyway, what do you mean, I’m doing well?”
“Sitting on the sofa as natural as can be. It took me days to master sitting and lying down.”
My jaw dropped. I sat down when I first found myself here and several times since, and didn’t think anything of it. But now Mel reminded me, I didn’t feel the sofa.
I laid my palms on my thighs. “It’s weird, isn’t it? It’s not as if I can feel the furniture. Why don’t we sink through it? I went through the cupboard so why not now?”
Jack said, “For goodness’ sake, Tiff, it’s not as if there’s a life-after-death for dummies book.”
“Should be.”
I stood and moved to a chair and kept my eyes ahead as I lowered my behind. Sitting was strange, as if once my body realized where it should be, there it stuck. I didn’t feel a surface beneath me, but neither did my muscles strain to hold me in place with no physical support.
“Why do we do this, anyway?” I said after I conquered the chairs, couch, and perching on the coffee table’s edge.
“It breaks up the monotony,” Mel offered.
“What happens when we fall asleep?”
Mel exaggerated a jaw drop, as if my words floored her.
Jack said, “Duh. We don’t.”
I took in their expressions and snorted. “Gotcha.” My bizarre situation made me forget what I already knew about shades. Either I concentrated or added fuel to Jack’s habitual sarcasm.
Which didn’t mean I couldn’t sleep. If I got tired, I’d try. But as the long night wore on, I felt wide awake.
Having Jack and Mel here cheered me. Their familiarity grounded me. I fell silent as they chatted with each other. They went on, and on, about everything under the sun. After ten minutes of their jabbering, I wanted to join in. The notion astounded me as their endless babble usually irritated me. I thought I understood why they always talked so much, why they invented silly games to give them a reason to bicker.
I wanted to hear my voice so I could say, you sound the same, Tiff. You haven’t changed. You’re still you.
A male nurse came in the room.
“Ooh,” Jack oohed and puckered his lips.
A face mask and scrub cap didn’t hide the nurse’s good looks and Jack acted enthralled, walking a half circle around the lad as he stood at the bedside. “You can check my vitals any day of the week,” he crooned.
“Jack,” I chided, “what would Dale think if he heard you?”
Wrong thing to say. Jack turned on me with a horrified expression.
“Dale!�
�� he agonized, squeezing his cheeks with both palms. “I can’t talk to Dale with you in this state!” He zipped to me. “You have to do something!”
“Tell me what and I’ll gladly do it.”
“You’re a detective. Figure it out,” he snapped.
I nearly said Dale was the least of my worries, but didn’t want to sound callous so bit my lip. Jack had been in love with him for more than thirty years.
“Oh dear,” Mel said.
Jack dropped his hands and stiffened his spine. His mouth crunched. Shaking his finger at me, he declared, “I will get you in your body if it’s the last thing I do.”
I couldn’t believe we spent an hour playing I Spy With My Little Eye.
I clasped my wrist with the other hand. “I don’t understand any of this shade business. I can’t feel anything solid but myself.”
“For sure you feel yourself, silly woman,” Jack said, his usual condescending self. He brushed his hair from his forehead.
It should not have surprised me. I’d seen Jack and Mel patting their hair, brushing their hands over their clothes, all those familiar gestures made by the living.
“I didn’t realize you . . . I mean we . . . get physical sensations.”
Jack asked, “What do you mean?”
“Inside. When what’s happened to me sank in, I felt sick, I wanted to vomit my last meal.”
“You can’t throw up what’s not there, honey,” said Mel.
“Like we told you, you’re imagining it,” Jack said with a frown.
“I am not!” I protested. “I get a sinking in the pit of my stomach when I see Royal and can’t speak to him.”
“Your mind is playing tricks on you,” Mel said.
“No.” I shook my head violently. How could I explain to them? The tears which didn’t leave my eyes. My lungs filling although I didn’t breathe. And everything I felt inside. I glanced at the motionless patient on the bed. “We know I can’t be the shade of a dead person. I think I’m everything which should be in my body. And because I’m out here, in this shape, it’s as if I’m trapped in a shell to keep me together.”
“Then what are you?” from Mel.
I said in a small voice, “Wish I knew.” I looked from one to the other. “How long have I been here?”
“Three days,” Mel said.
Three days? Why did waking take this long? The shades I’d spoken to during the years since my ability came to me woke within hours of their death.
Every passing minute, each new discovery convinced me I was not a shade.
I watched the clock; when did the hospital allow visitors? Royal arrived at ten after nine. In honey-brown cord pants and a primrose-yellow, long-sleeved shirt, hair fastened by a leather cord into a ponytail, long coat over his arm, he strode to the bedside, sank down beside me and took my hand in his. “Hello, darling.” Then stopped, as if he had already run out of things to say.
It made me wonder again: How often would he sit at the bed talking to me if time stretched to weeks, months, finding things to say getting harder with every visit?
Royal coughed low in his throat and started again. “I did not see Mike yesterday. The department is investigating a murder at a residence in the Avenues. Big case. The media is going wild and the mayor is in a frenzy. Mike is up to his ears. But I’ll try again today. I put our cases on hold and told the clients they are welcome to go elsewhere if they cannot wait.”
“You what?” No, he couldn’t. Building our rep and the business took too long. He was throwing it away. “You can’t do that, Royal. I don’t want to start again.”
Mel and Jack exchanged looks.
“What? I know he can’t hear me but I can’t help it.”
“How about you concentrate on learning to travel,” said Jack. “You can’t do anything stuck in this room.”
Jack was determined now he realized I couldn’t help him communicate with Dale. I had to find a way to tell Royal he must not give up on me. I had no idea how, but Jack was right: the answer was not in the hospital.
He went to Royal and hovered over him. “Let’s try this.” He fisted his hand a few inches from Royal’s head. “Come here, Tiff. Put your hand next to mine and close your fingers. Can you feel it?”
I did as he asked, shut my eyes and felt Royal’s aura. “Feeling it’s not the problem, keeping hold of it is.”
“Now move a fraction until you feel a change in texture.”
Excited, my hand trembled and I worried I’d lose the aura. But I kept my hand sliding along it and felt a smidgen of resistance. And lost it.
“For mercy’s sake!” I plunged my hand in Royal’s aura and closed my fingers to make a fist.
And I had it. Not at the end, right in there. I felt it in my hands and didn’t lose it when I pulled.
I bounced on my feet. “I did it, guys!” Then let go, appalled. Did I yank Royal’s aura? Did it hurt?
But he hadn’t reacted, so I guessed not.
“So, while he’s sitting here steaming, practice,” said Mel.
“You think he’s steaming?”
“Maybe not steaming, definitely stewing. I bet he’s been furious since you were shot,” Jack said.
Royal checked his wristwatch. “I have to go but I will return soon.”
“Grab him!” Mel yelled.
I snatched at Royal’s head.
“Careful,” Jack said.
“Ack! He’s on the move,” said Mel as Royal stood.
I sucked in a breath and decided to think about not feeling the inhalation another time. Carefully, I wound my fingers in his aura. “Got it.”
“Wow!” from Jack. “It took us weeks.”
“I recall.” Not knowing what they were doing, finding Jack and Mel in my personal space irritated the heck out of me until they mastered the technique and I knew what they had been doing.
“But I don’t have hold of the ends, my hand is right in there.”
“Might have known it’s easier for you.” Jack rolled his eyes.
And we were off as Royal strode from the room.
I staggered behind Royal, trying to keep hold but not run into him. Then I saw Jack and Mel bent their knees to lift their feet from the ground. They smirked. I gave them a dirty look and copied them.
“Wheee!” from Jack.
“Are you enjoying this?” Not me. Yeah, moving with Royal was incredible, but there we were, three people scrunched together on an oblivious demon and I felt crowded.
“If you’d been stuck in your house for nearly thirty years, you’d enjoy it,” said Mel.
How did Royal not feel us? Didn’t we put weight on him? But he kept his stride with no faltering.
And he really moved. Not demon speed, but he blew through the hospital like a storm. Past his shoulder, I saw his expression and understood why others in the corridors got out of his way. A few staff members gave him hesitant smiles. He didn’t notice. He didn’t wait for an elevator but charged down the staircase, crossed the big foyer and went through the double glass doors. We got out of there and in the parking lot in a jiffy.
Chapter Four
Icy rain pattered from an overcast sky but I felt nothing, neither the moisture nor what must be lip-chapping cold air.
When we approached Royal’s big white pickup truck, I wanted to let go.
Jack must have sensed my dread, or knew from his early experiences: parts of us were bound to go through the cab and upholstery. “Hold on, Tiff. We don’t want to backtrack for you.”
I gulped and nodded, and closed my eyes. I didn’t feel any change and opened my eyes a minute later to find we already headed out of the lot. A tiny eek! erupted from my mouth. My spine and hips stuck through Royal’s seat. I shifted to a position behind the seat, but my arm went through the headrest. Jack moved to the passenger seat; he and Mel released Royal and settled side by side.
“This is so wrong.” I wanted to rest my face on Royal’s smooth hair. “We’re crammed together and I can’t
feel him. I can’t feel anything.”
Jack was all compassion. “Get used to it, sister.”
Royal atypically drove above the speed limit on slushy roads and patches of packed snow and ice in intersections, the result of severe weather this February, freezing temperatures and snowstorms coming in one after the other. Ridges of dirt-encrusted snow lined the streets where the plows pushed it. Rain made the trodden snow on the sidewalks slick and glistening.
The icy rain became sleet pelting from a dark sky. The truck’s windows fogged and Royal turned on the heater to clear them.
“Well, this is fun,” I offered drily.
“You’ll appreciate riding in a car after you’ve had to get along on foot, moving from person to person, taking ages,” Jack said.
“No doubt.” I didn’t want to be apart from my body long enough to find out.
“You’re going to have to let go, unless you mean to stay with Royal forever,” Mel said.
“And what’s bad about that?”
“All the time? Even when he poops?” she asked with mock innocence.
“Mel!”
“She’s right,” said Jack. “I mean, if you want to travel, you have to learn to let go. And you have to learn to catch someone when they’re on the move.”
“I will. Eventually.”
I watched the stores, cafés and other businesses as we zipped past. The storm made everything so dark. Streetlights came on and made halos on the slick sidewalks. Neon glared from shop windows. We took a right and drove past the old courthouse, and went on by. Royal did not head for Clarion PD.
The truck climbed the hill toward The Avenues.
“Are we going home?” I queried. “Royal likes to take this route to my place.”
“He may be en route to a client,” Mel suggested.
“No.” I shook my head. I had a feeling. “We’re going home.”
The white Dodge pickup followed the roads I drove for so many years, until we arrived at Beeches Avenue and parked outside my house. I already felt a pang of nostalgia.
You’ve haven’t been away long, Tiff, you sappy idiot.
I had not let go of Royal but Jack and Mel scrambled to grab him. Out of the truck we went, plastered all over him. His steps lagged as he walked the path to my door. Did he dread going in when he would not find me there?