Jamis Bachman, Ghost Hunter

by Jen Jensen

  “Yeah,” Johnna said.

  “How are you doing? Are you okay? What about Sam and Jacob?”

  “We’re okay, but I miss you so much. I want to be where you are. Why won’t dad just let us come with you?”

  “Honey, I know. I want to be where you are too. I’m picking you up from school tonight and we’ll have the weekend, okay? We can do whatever you want. Jacob has his scouting thing, and Sam is staying over at a friend’s house, so I am all yours. Sound good?”

  “Yeah,” Johnna said. “I just don’t feel good when I don’t get to see you.”

  “I know baby,” Emma said, her voice soft. “We’ll get through this, okay? I promise. We will. I love you to the far end of the universe and back. Through time and space, heaven and earth. From this life to the next, and every life after. You’re stuck with me. That’s how much I love you. That’s right. I’ll see you in about seven hours, okay? You got it. Be strong.”

  “Okay. Seven hours. I love you, Mom,” Johnna said. Emma punched the end button and handed Carmen the phone.

  She turned on her side, propped her head on her hand, elbow on the bed. “She’s having the worst time.”

  “We can do something else. Whatever we need to do for them. I want you, but I don’t want your kids not to have you.”

  “We’ve talked about this. I want to live my life. Some people might think it’s the ultimate act of selfishness. But I can’t live any other way. I think sometimes we mistakenly think we can protect children from all and any disruption, but we can’t. Life on Earth is messy business. I feel at peace. I’m not to blame. My mother might be to blame, but I’m not.” She smiled, and Carmen matched it. “I’ll work with Johnna through this. All of them. We’ll find our peace. It might not be tomorrow or next month, or next year, but somewhere, we’ll transcend all of this. We’ll punch through it, let it go, and move forward.” She smiled at Carmen. “I’ll put that out there to the universe.”

  “Am I playing hooky today with you?” Emma grinned, nodding. “Any reason why?”

  “Does there need to be?” She touched the end of Carmen’s nose with her finger. “If this were your last day alive, what would you want to do?”

  “Is this the twenty question game?”

  “Yes,” Emma said.

  “What question is this?”

  “Eighteen,” Emma said. They’d played the twenty questions game since they were children. They resumed it with some rules the fall before. Each question had to be meaningful, and they had to respond with the next question in the designated time frame. If they forgot or defaulted, the penalties ranged from dishes to late night romantic activities. Very little had changed from when they were ten years old, but for their bodies and the lines around their eyes. The game solidified that and Emma loved it. She never let Carmen forget.

  “Really? We’re at eighteen?”

  “Yup,” Emma said.

  “Okay, well, if this were my last day alive, I’d just want to spend it with you. Cuddling in bed, making love, eating grilled cheese.” Emma grinned, encouraging her. “Maybe crawl out to the couch, watch a movie, naked, wrapped in a quilt with you.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  Carmen rested her head in her hand. “Are we going to act out number eighteen today?”

  “Please?”

  “Twist my arm,” Carmen said.

  “You have to think of number nineteen by nine p.m. or you lose the game.”

  Carmen pressed her back, lips on her neck. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  * * *

  Emma was wrapped in a quilt, waiting for Carmen to return with their grilled cheese sandwiches. She’d flipped off the movie they’d barely watched and stared blankly at Headline News. She felt deep sadness in her chest. It came upon her quickly and she wanted to tuck it way before Carmen felt it or saw it, but her eyes stung with it. She’d been clingy with Carmen today. She couldn’t get her close enough, wouldn’t let her from her sight for long. It was worse today than it had been for a while, though it was an ongoing issue. A month or so earlier, over dinner, before Carmen needed to broach the topic, she blurted, “I know I’m needy.” She said it with so much honesty and innocence Carmen choked on her soda, and it came out of her nose. Since then, they’d been able to talk about how, from time to time, it was a good idea for Carmen to have some space. She knew it, and constantly monitored herself for signs of being a crazy girlfriend who wouldn’t let her partner breathe.

  She’d teased it apart in her mind, first tracing it back to the night she told Carmen no, closing the window. Then she teased it back further, to the hospital where the pills made her throw up, and she cried at night for her. She unwound the sensation, from front to end, the way only a person who experienced anxiety could; she analyzed it obsessively. Until one day, Carmen told her to stop worrying about it. That she didn’t mind her need to be close. If she ever felt smothered, she’d tell her. “As long as you’re not boiling a live rabbit on the stove because I talked to another woman, I think we’re in the clear.”

  Emma tightened the blanket around her shoulders. At times, she knew she was mentally unstable. Anxiety and hysteria crept up on her like evil monsters in a horror movie. She’d read a number of books over the years about depression and anxiety. She worked hard to keep all the pieces together and not break apart, but she wasn’t always successful. Admittedly, she’d found greater mental peace since September than the twenty years before.

  She backslid, from time to time, swept away as her atoms rearranged themselves, but her ability to pull them back together, in her desired form, was so much easier with Carmen by her side. She believed her inner life was a direct reflection of her outer, and moving more into alignment with her truth meant the broken pieces inside her could fall back into place. Every day, she’d become a bit more whole.

  One day she would feel entirely healed. Carmen returned with two grilled cheese sandwiches. Emma opened her quilt and shifted on the couch. Carmen climbed inside with her. Their legs tangled, and they struggled to wrap the other quilt around them. “You look awfully serious,” Carmen said.

  Emma bit into her grilled cheese. “I was just thinking I’m mentally ill and you’re in love with a crazy woman.”

  “If you were mentally ill, I don’t think you’d be that aware. Do you?” Emma shrugged. She wasn’t sure. “Anyway, I’ll love you even if you are nuts. It doesn’t matter. Just don’t go anywhere. If you’re going to be crazy, be crazy here with me.”

  * * *

  Emma dressed quietly, the same sadness deep in her chest. It welled up to her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. Carmen wrapped her arms around her from behind. “What’s going on today?”

  Emma turned to her, arms around her neck. “I’m emotional. I just feel sad, clingy, and needy.” Carmen tightened her arms around her waist. “I woke up like this.”

  “I’m going to go into the store for a few hours, while you get the kids, get everyone settled, and then I’ll be back early. By six or so. That work? We can spend the rest of the evening together. Do whatever Johnna wants to do?”

  “That works. I’ll be okay. It’s just one of those days.”

  “Sure. It’s fine. I love you.” Carmen cupped her face in her hands and kissed her gently. Emma held her hands and pressed her forehead against Carmen’s. “Should we go?”

  They walked out of the house together, fingers intertwined. Emma tossed her purse in the front seat of the Pontiac she’d bought used a few months before. Carmen opened her door for her. “You’re so gallant.”

  “Don’t you know it.” Emma climbed behind the wheel of the car and looked up at Carmen, who kissed her lightly on the lips. “See you later.” As she went to pull away, Emma grabbed her T-shirt, and pulled her back for a longer, more intense kiss. She let her go reluctantly and pulled the door closed. Emma watched Carmen in the rearview mirror all the way to the grocery store. She honked as she passed Carmen, turning into the store parking lot.
<
br />   She waited in line for Jacob first. He climbed into the seat behind the driver’s seat, sullen and quiet. Her efforts to engage him in conversation failed, and she stopped trying when Sam and Johnna opened the doors and climbed in. Sam kissed her cheek and fastened his seat belt. She made eye contact with Johnna and pulled slowly from the school parking lot. “How are you both?”

  “Good. I canceled my plans so I can stay with you, if that’s all right,” Sam said.

  “Of course, it’s all right,” she said. “It’s always all right. Jacob? Are you still going with the Scouts this weekend?” He shrugged, noncommittal in the back seat.

  “Dude. Parents get divorced,” Sam said. “You gotta get over it, man.”

  “Leave him alone,” Johnna said.

  Emma interrupted before it became an argument. “How about if all of us just take a deep breath for a minute, realize that a lot of stuff is going on, and be kind to each other, okay? If Jacob needs to be quiet, he can.”

  “Whatever.” Sam stared straight ahead and crossed his arms.

  “Let’s just get home, take a break, and figure out what the weekend will look like, okay?” Emma said. “Let’s do that.” She turned to get on the interstate to bypass afternoon traffic backing up on the surface roads. It was just a mile or two, but she thought it prudent to get the kids out of the car as quickly as possible. She was not mother of the year, but she had enough experience to know the best way to avoid escalation and dramatic upheaval was to let them all decompress in separate corners. She pulled onto the interstate, found it largely empty, and drifted to the left lane to pass a slow moving car on the right.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Jamis opened her eyes to the front room. Dan Abbey was by the front door, hands in his pockets. “I should have destroyed everything. I know. I think I felt guilty. And I was worried about getting it out of the house. I was worried if I threw out the carousel, someone would find it. Just like they found her body. I thought it would be safer here. I closed up the attic.”

  “You were always too soft, Danny,” Bobby sneered. “I’ve spent my whole life being your muscle when you’re too pussy to do it. Just like that little girl at camp that year.”

  “Don’t put it on me. You loved every moment of everything you did to Stephanie and that girl.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not the one that dipped my dick into her to waive her rent.”

  “We all make horrible mistakes,” Dan said. He turned toward Jamis. She closed her eyes, feigned unconsciousness. “What are we going to do with her?”

  “I’ll take care of her,” Bobby said. He went into the kitchen. “I need to find something to do it with.” Dan followed him.

  Jamis wiggled around so her back was against the wall. They’d replaced the gag in her mouth and it was tight. She fought against the bindings on her wrists but was unable to untie them. She fell slightly forward and struck her head on the corner of an end table. Dazed again, breathing through the discomfort, she felt fingers on her wrists, as the ropes fell away. She felt loved and warm and closed her eyes. She heard a whisper, “Don’t close your eyes. You have to get up. Carmen is coming.”

  Jamis cried out from the painful contraction of her muscles. She fell forward and shook her arms awake. They tingled painfully. She fell still, blood rushing to her extremities, listening to Bobby and Dan in the kitchen.

  “It’s too late to do anything but kill her,” she heard Dan say. “She’s seen both of us. But we need to be better at getting rid of her. She’s popular, but she’s also not from here. We have to think this through.”

  “We can think it through after she’s dead,” Bobby said. Jamis untied the rope around her feet. She felt nauseous and woozy from the blows to her head, and the stun gun made her innards feel microwaved. The world moved up and down in waves. She climbed to her feet, rushing to the front door. She yanked it open. Dan and Bobby yelled. She was unsteady from her injuries and fell from the house, landing on her hands and knees.

  Dan seized her by her hair and yanked her back into the house. She kicked and waged war against him, connecting multiple blows to his face with her elbows and fists once he let go. Bobby joined the struggle and put his hand over her mouth. She bit down on his fingers and tasted blood. He yanked his hand back and grabbed her shoulders, throwing her into the middle of the room. He ran at her and hit her in the face with his fist once, twice, and pulled back for a third time. But before he was able to connect, the room erupted.

  Curtains billowed, chairs tipped over, and the cry Jamis first heard filled the house and smothered all other sound. A dark, angry figure with a swelling stomach lurched up in the corner of the room, climbing up the wall and into the ceiling. Dan screamed and tried to run for the front door, but a force struck him at the threshold and sent him flying backward. Bobby was thrown back by the same force, hitting the banister so hard it cracked. He tried to come at Jamis but was hit again.

  Jamis held her jaw, wondering if it was broken, and used the wall as leverage to stand. It was fight or die, so she grabbed a lamp from the table and rushed at Dan. She hit him on the back of the neck, and he dropped to his knees, stunned. She kicked out and connected with his face. He fell to his side. He struggled to stand back up, and while poised halfway up from the ground, feet unsteady, Jamis shoved him forward through the window. The glass shattered as he fell through, into the front yard, grabbing at shards of glass embedded in his flesh.

  Blood spilled down Jamis’s forehead, into her eyes, and she wiped at it, making it worse. Bobby Reynolds would kill her unless she got to him first. Once again, Jamis was surrounded by warmth, and though her head pounded, she was suffused with clarity.

  He lurched toward her, with a maniacal look in his eyes. His grin was menacing and pure evil, his eyes empty orbs. “I am going to kill you if it’s the last thing I do. You should have let this be.” They clashed in the middle of the room. He grabbed her hair and pulled. Jamis kicked and connected with his groin.

  “You’re a sissy hair puller,” Jamis yelled, wrenching away from him. He swung his arms wildly at her. She grabbed his wrist and twisted like she’d learned in self-defense class. She pulled his arm down and back and shoved him forward. He stumbled but came back at her, head down, shoulder in the front, and he connected with her stomach. It knocked the wind out of her, and she stumbled.

  “You dyke bitch.” He kicked her knees from behind and she dropped to them on the ground.

  “Oh, get original, you fucktard.” He lunged for her throat, but she pushed up with surreal strength, her limbs flooded with adrenaline. She connected with him, her full body against his and they both stumbled toward the kitchen. “I’m not a delicate flower, Bobby. How does it feel to fight someone you can’t overpower so easily?” She grabbed his ears as they stumbled, yanking them, and then let go of one to stick her thumb in his right eye. It popped and she flipped what felt like jelly off her thumb. He screamed and shoved her back. She hit the doorframe leading into the kitchen with the space between her shoulder blades and cried out in pain.

  Somehow, he seized the moment to grab her shirt from behind, pulling it tight against her neck, wrapping his arm around her throat. “Can’t talk now can you?” Jamis dug at his arm but couldn’t budge it. He’d restricted her oxygen supply. The cupboard doors began to open and close on their own. From the corner of her eye, Jamis saw Stephanie standing in the middle of the kitchen, mouth opened in a scream. The fridge door opened and slammed into Bobby. He stumbled forward with Jamis in his grasp.

  She resolved not to die this way, and thrashed wildly, from right to left, yanking forward and backward. She connected her foot to his instep, and then his shin. His arm loosened some and then reasserted itself. The pressure on her neck hurt, and she had to get free of it. She continued to thrash when suddenly, he let go. She fell to her knees. Her throat and lungs burned and throbbed.

  Bobby lay in front of her, blood pooling from his head. Through the blood in her eyes, Jamis saw Carmen,
bat raised above her head, ready to strike again. Stephanie was beside her, quiet. When he didn’t move, Carmen dropped the bat and knelt to touch Jamis.

  “Don’t fuck with a dyke holding a softball bat,” Jamis said.

  “Do you ever stop?” Carmen’s hands were on Jamis’s face, shoulder, and arms, checking for breaks.

  “Lesbians should not be fucked with. Fuck you,” Jamis screamed at Bobby. Lying prone on the floor, she kicked him in the back of the head. “Lesbians should band together and take over the fucking world.” She kicked him again. “I’m pretty sure he’s dead, Carmen.” She kicked one more time. “She told me you were coming. Untied me. It was your Emma. Said you were on your way.” She rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling. “I don’t feel very good. I can’t see good. My head feels real woozy.”

  “We need to get out of here. The upstairs is on fire.” Carmen pulled her up, hands under her armpits. Jamis stumbled forward, toward the front door, all her weight against Carmen.

  “Dan Abbey. He’s in the front yard,” Jamis said, slurring. “Watch for him. He stun gunned me, the son of a bitch.” She was pissed. “Take me to him. Fuck you, Dan Abbey. You stun gunned me?”

  “He’s unconscious. Come on, you gotta help a little,” Carmen said, and Jamis tried to focus, as Carmen pulled her from the house. On the porch, Carmen stepped below her, and hoisted Jamis over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She carried her through the front yard, and leaned her against the truck’s wheel. She’d stopped right in the middle of the street. Carmen dialed 911 as a car sped around the corner, up the road toward them, and came to rest behind her truck.

  Sapphire jumped from the car and ran to Jamis and Carmen. “Oh my God. Are you okay?” Sapphire cupped Jamis’s face in her hands. “Are you there?”

  “Maybe,” Jamis mumbled. “I got hit in the head a lot.”