by Ann M. Noser
“Thanks.” I’m surprised at the compliment. “And thanks for helping Mike.”
“It was no problem. He’s great.”
Even now, I feel the familiar stab of jealousy. This shouldn’t bother me anymore. “Mike told me most of what happened, but maybe you could fill in the details.”
“Sure thing.” Phoebe settles into a cross-legged position on the couch. “I found Mike under the bridge waiting for Kevin. He stayed at my place, and Kevin brought his mom over. He tried to warn her she’d be shocked, but how on earth do you prepare a person for seeing somebody come back to life?”
I suck in my breath. “How did she take it?”
“She clutched her purse and stared at Mike for the longest time, without saying a word. I thought she was going to faint. Finally, she looked at me and said, ‘I’m so glad you aren’t pregnant.’ Isn’t that funny?”
I shrug. “A Catholic mother’s worst fear, I guess.”
“After that, Julie bear-hugged Mike, laughing and crying at the same time. Then she got all business-like, asking questions and making plans. She’s a cool lady.”
“She does seem different this time around,” I admit.
“Now it’s your turn.” Phoebe narrows her eyes. “Tell me everything. How did you bring Mike and all the others back? How did you talk to him afterward? Which spells did you use? I couldn’t figure out your Book of Shadows.”
I stiffen. “Where is it?”
“It disappeared along with Mike. But don’t be sad. Kevin says you probably don’t even need it. He told me how you controlled that doctor at the hospital.”
Steve chuckles. “How about the Speedo? I’ll bet Kevin didn’t tell her about that!”
I grab Phoebe’s shoulder. “But I need my Book of Shadows. I’ve got to have it.” It feels like I’m falling.
She moves away. “To be honest, I’m relieved it’s gone. It was taking over. When the Book was in my apartment, it was all I could think about. It’s far too dangerous.”
“Then you know how much I need it.” I’m lost without it.
“Fine.” Phoebe hesitates before continuing. “Ask Laura then. She drove back to the park today before she went over to the police station. Maybe she found the Book somewhere.”
I stiffen. “Laura went back to the fire pit?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you see her at the police station? She seemed eager to find you.”
“No. Where is she?” I glance around the living room, but it’s only us. And Bernie the cat, who keeps alternating between purring and hissing as he grooms. Maybe he’s possessed, too.
“I don’t know.” Phoebe checks her phone. “I haven’t heard from her in ages. I left three messages, but she hasn’t texted or called back yet. That’s weird.”
“Call her again. Ask if she found my Book.”
“I can’t understand it.” Phoebe’s eyes narrow as she scans her phone. “She was frantic about you in the hospital. I’m shocked she isn’t here already.”
A cold, numb feeling crawls over me. “Not if she has something to hide.”
vening falls as we wait for Laura to show up. I stare out the window. No full moon tonight-looks like someone took a swipe out of it. Bernie hisses behind me. Maybe he’s the culprit, swinging his sharp claws across the sky.
Headlights flash across the driveway.
“That’s Abby.” Phoebe turns to me. “Have you decided what you’re going to tell her?”
Steve clears his throat, but I ignore him.
“No.” I’m not sure I want to follow Steve’s orders anymore. Why does everything I do have to involve a secret?
The kitchen door opens and shuts, voices banter back and forth in the kitchen, then Abby bursts into the living room.
“Emma! What a relief you’re all right!” She rushes over to hug me. The end table light casts a soft glow on her smiling face. She’s already lost most of the baby weight. My eyes linger on her soft hair, long legs, and curves.
Bernie jumps up on the sofa and hisses, interrupting my (or rather, Steve’s) adoring stare.
Stop it, Steve! I hiss. No more checking Abby out while you’re inside me. You’re pissing off the cat!
“Bernie, get down!” Abby scolds. “What’s wrong with you?”
The fat orange cat stalks into the corner of the room to glare at me. Abby gives me another fierce hug, which Steve enjoys much more than necessary. I throw a warning glance at Phoebe over Abby’s shoulder, hoping she’ll keep her mouth shut until I’m ready. For what, I don’t know.
“You gals catch up.” Phoebe exits the living room. “I’ll help Claire in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Phoebe.” I actually mean it. Maybe she’s not so bad, after all.
“How are you feeling?” Abby sits beside me. “You look… great.”
“She’s lying, you know,” Steve digs. “She looks great. You, on the other hand, look like shit.”
“I feel fine.” I force a bright smile. I’m really starting to hate Steve.
“What happened to you?” Abby asks. “I don’t understand any of it. The newspapers say—”
“It’s not Walker’s fault,” I interrupt. “It’s mine.”
Abby frowns. “I don’t get it. Why were you setting fires in the park? And why were you hanging out with a thirty-five-year-old cop?”
“Well…”
Her eyes widen. “Do you like him? It’s okay if you do. I mean, he’s old and stuff, but he’s still pretty cute.”
“That’s not it at all.” Although life would be a lot easier if that were true.
“Emma, are you blushing?” Abby giggles. “Listen, I’m sure you had feelings for your friend Mike who drowned, but it’s okay to care about someone else now that he’s gone.”
“I don’t like where this conversation is heading,” Steve grumbles.
“WAAAAAAAAH!” A baby’s wail from the back bedroom interrupts us.
Abby smiles. “I swear he can smell when I’m here. He’ll sleep for hours for Claire, and the minute I come home he knows it’s dinner time.”
“I’ll come with you,” I say, but not on my own. Oh, crap! Steve’s figured out how to speak through me. I have to stop this right away.
I follow Abby into the bedroom, hanging back to avoid the mirror over the dresser. I don’t want her to see our double reflection. Steve’s heart races within me as he watches Abby lift their son out of the bassinette. Little Stevie turns his face to me, cooing.
“Oh look,” Abby says. “He wants you. Emma’s your favorite babysitter, isn’t she, Stevie?”
“It’s me he wants,” Steve insists. “Let me take over.”
My right leg shakes involuntarily. Not until she’s out of the room, you idiot!
Abby brings the baby over to the changing table and swiftly switches his smelly diaper to a fresh one.
“Could you hold him a sec while I toss out this stink bomb?” she asks.
“Of course,” I reply, Steve tense with anticipation inside me.
Abby carries him over, and I cradle him in my arms. Except my arms are tingling, because Steve keeps trying to take over. Abby whistles as she walks away, garbage bag in hand.
“I can’t believe I won’t be here to watch him grow up.” Steve forces his way to the forefront, burying his face in his son’s hair, breathing in his sweet baby smell. “They stole everything from me that night. Abby wouldn’t be alone if I were still alive.”
She’s not alone, I remind him. Claire’s here. Just like you wanted.
“I know, but it’s not fair!” Tears spring to both of our eyes due to Steve. “It could be better than this.”
Memories flood my mind. Pictures and feelings that aren’t mine. Steve and Abby on a date, eating at a restaurant. Strolling hand in hand along the bike path near campus. Abby’s hair, shining in the moonlight. Steve talking on the phone to her late at night. Abby smiling as Steve kissed her.
I try to dispel the images, but Steve is too determined.
Give me back control, I order. You shouldn’t fight me when we’re holding the baby!
“One more minute. Please. Why can’t you understand?”
Footsteps approach in the hall.
We don’t have time for this, I warn. Abby will see you—
She sweeps into the room and locks eyes with us in the mirror.
Her face goes white. “Steve?”
She sways a moment before toppling onto the floor, unconscious.
Great job, Steve. You made her faint. Give me back the body NOW.
We switch. Faint glimmering reflects off the dresser mirror. I bend down, cradling the baby in my arms.
“Abby, are you okay?” I shake her shoulder.
She sits up, rubbing her head. “I’m sorry. What a mess I am! I could have sworn Steve was here for a moment-which is ridiculous, and now you’ll think I’m a freak.”
“No, I don’t think that.” Poor Abby. All the lies I’ve told her. Why does she believe anything I say?
She gets up and scurries around the room. “It’s all because of that strange picture his mother took a few months ago. It freaks me out every time I look at it. Did I ever show it to you?” She rustles through dresser drawers, searching.
I don’t have the heart to tell her Claire showed me ages ago.
“Isn’t this strange?” Abby’s hand shakes as she holds out the photo. The image shows Steve asleep in a rocking chair, holding his baby. It should have been impossible, since Steve died seven months before little Stevie’s birth.
“Tell her,” Steve insists. “Tell her cameras and mirrors show who’s inside.”
I thought you didn’t want her to know, I remind him.
Abby stares at me. “Emma, what’s going on? There’s a strange glow about you. Why are you shimmering?”
“You should sit down,” I advise. “Maybe you hit your head when you fell.”
“No, I’m okay. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.” She puts away the picture. “But I have to sit down anyway to nurse Stevie.”
I follow her to the rocking chair, trying to avoid the mirror, but Steve forces me forward.
“Please, Emma, just this once…” begs Steve.
This is the last thing I’m doing for you, but it’s your choice to tell her, I relent and move into full view of the dresser mirror.
Abby’s eyes lock onto the mirror image of Steve holding their baby. She moves close to the reflection, and raises a hand to Steve’s face.
“This isn’t possible.” Abby takes a shuddering breath. She snatches little Stevie out of my arms, making him squirm in protest. Her eyes narrow. “What’s going on? Who am I talking to now?”
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Steve says.
“Steve’s being a coward, so I guess you’re talking to me,” I answer Abby.
“You know, Emma, I’m not entirely stupid.” Abby’s eyes fill with tears. “I suspected you were hiding something. I saw all those witchcraft books in your apartment, and wondered why you never talked about it. And Claire’s not as quiet on the phone as she thinks she is. But I didn’t know what to expect. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
“You’re right. It’s time to come clean. Steve’s been with me since the police station.”
“With you?” Abby takes a step back. “The police station? I don’t get it.”
“That’s where Steve found me. He’s…” I can’t help but grimace, but I try not to look repulsed. He used to be her boyfriend, after all. “…sharing this body with me. And our friend ‘Sam’ wasn’t really Sam, either, at least not most of the time.”
Abby and Steve gaze at each other in the mirror. I sense both of them asking me for some great favor I can’t fulfill.
I bite my lip. “I’m sorry, you guys, but this isn’t Ghost and I’m not Whoopi Goldberg. Good movie, though.”
Abby stares at the reflection, a strained look upon her face. “Was Sam actually Steve in disguise the whole time?”
I shake my head. “No. First it was Sam. Then Jake. And then—”
“You’re right. I better sit down.” Abby collapses in the rocking chair. “Okay, start over from the beginning.”
My chest tightens and the words rush out. I tell her about how I tried to bring Mike back after he died. That instead of resurrecting Mike, I brought back Sam. Then Jake. Then Mike, Steve and Bernard all at the same time right after that.
Abby interrupts. “Claire’s husband, Bernard?”
“Yeah.” I watch the expressions cross her face, one after the other: confusion, frustration, anger, and acceptance.
“I thought so.” Abby helps her baby nurse. “That makes sense somehow. But why is Steve using your body? What happened to the other one?”
“It fell apart when Mike went back. Now I’m the borrowed body.” Will I fall apart, too? “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you before. But you were pregnant. Everyone thought it was best at the time.”
“Everyone but me,” she counters. “Why did Steve come back again? Did he want to see us? Why didn’t he tell me the truth last time?”
How about you swing these questions on your own, big guy? I push Steve forward and our glimmering sparkles throughout the room. Here’s your big chance, Steve. Don’t make me regret being nice to you.
Steve kneels in front of Abby. He puts a tentative hand on her forearm. “More than anything, I wanted to see both of you, but I also had to give Officer Walker information about the gang that murdered me.”
Tears race down Abby’s cheeks.
“Can I hold him again?” Steve asks, his own eyes threatening to spill over.
“For just a minute because he hasn’t finished nursing yet.” Abby hands over the baby, who snuggles in Steve’s arms.
“But why didn’t you tell me?” Abby asks. “Claire got to know, didn’t she?”
“Yes.” Steve hangs his head. “I’m sorry, Abby. You had enough to deal with already and I didn’t want to hurt you anymore. I did what I thought was best, getting you to move in with Claire, and writing to my parents.”
Abby’s mouth falls open. “That was all you?”
Steve nods, running his fingers over his son’s hair.
She laughs. “You’re kind of a manipulative bastard, aren’t you?”
I halfway glimmer back. “It’s even worse than you think.” And I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get Steve in the habit of taking over my body.
Abby points her finger. “Don’t go anywhere, Emma Roberts. I’m not done with you yet.”
Steve allows me to assume full control as Abby takes back the baby.
“I can’t believe that the whole time I’ve known you, everything’s been a lie. Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Didn’t you trust me? I thought we were friends.”
“Maybe I’m not always such a good friend,” I mumble.
Steve glimmers forward. “You’ve been pretty good to me.”
“Better than you deserve!” I retort.
Abby holds up her hands. “Ack! Stop all this shimmering nonsense. It’s hard on my eyes. And why are you guys fighting? I’m the one who should be upset, not you.”
“Emma’s not happy being the host body,” Steve says.
“I just don’t like sharing it with you,” I argue. “You’re too bossy.”
Steve smirks. “So you’d rather share it with Jake?”
“That’s not what I said!”
Abby waves her hand. “Wait a minute! I’m lost. Who’s this ‘Jake’ person again?”
“He’s the second one who came back. Right after Sam. He sort of blew you off at first because-“
Abby waves a hand in surrender. “Never mind. I get it. But I have a few more questions for the two of you.”
Hours later, after doing our best to answer her, we fall asleep, lounging across Abby’s carpeted floor.
I dog paddle, splashing through purple waves.
Jake backstrokes through a school of dolphins.
“Are you a mermaid?”
I ask. “Or a merman?”
Steve buzzes by in a speedboat, separating us in his wake.
“Emma, I’ve got a package for you.” Jake waves my Book of Shadows in the air as he floats away.
“Jake! Come back!” I jolt awake, sweating as night pales into dawn.
Exhausted, I fall back into a restless sleep. My nightmares jump from one murder to another-the bloody shower, the chase across the parking lot, and the dirty white van filled with hatred. An endless array of flickering candles light up the woods under a starlit sky. Painted Smiley Faces leer from every direction. Steve lights fires at the base of each tree. Flames lick up the trunks to consume the sneering grimaces and transform each tree into a blazing column.
When I wake for good, the smoke from my dreams lingers.
No, wait, something actually smells like it’s on fire. I stand too fast and stumble, my feet entwined in a blanket. After shaking it off, I dash to the kitchen. Claire sits at the table, clutching a mug of black coffee. At the stove, Mom jabs at pancakes with a spatula as if she’s trying to hurt them. A stack of charred flapjacks rests on a plate nearby.
“Some idiots claim that cooking is therapeutic,” Mom growls. “I certainly don’t feel any better.”
“Cheryl, why don’t you have a seat? I can finish that.” Claire cracks open a window, and takes over at the stove. The burnt odor fades. “Breakfast will be ready in a jiffy. Phoebe already left for the day. The rest of you can sit where you like.”
Abby hurries in and passes Little Stevie into my arms. “Ooh, pancakes. Claire, you’re the best!”
I sit down in the nearest kitchen chair and let Steve gaze at his son through me.
But stay quiet in there! I warn. Mom’s watching.
“Mmmm. These are great!” Abby murmurs as her eyes flicker to the clock. “Oh no! I’d better hurry, or I’ll be late for work.”
A loud knock shakes the door.
“Who could that be?” Claire peeks through the window. “Oh, good. It’s just Laura with a handsome young man.”
Claire wipes her hands on a towel. “Thank goodness those reporters are gone. I can’t believe how unprofessionally they dress these days. One of them showed up here wearing a wife-beater, of all things. He didn’t even bother to cover up the big snake tattoo on his arm.”