Restless Spirits: Chapter 25 (Conclusion)
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Chapter Twenty-five
“So that’s the plan,” I said. “What do you guys think? Are you in?”
Joe, Max, and I sat around the kitchen table. As I outlined my hair-brained scheme, they both sat with forlorn, zoned-out looks on their faces, their thoughts apparently elsewhere. I wasn’t sure if they’d even heard any of what I said.
I guess at least Max did, because after a moment, he nodded. “It sounds doomed to failure, and will probably get all of us eaten.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “There is that chance. But what other choice do we have?”
“None that I can see. Besides,” he added, a bitter tinge to his voice, “my soul seems a pittance compared to what I’ve already lost to that devil.”
I nodded in understanding, then turned to Joe. “What about you?”
He sat with his chair leaning back on its hind legs, with one arm folded across his stomach and propping up the other by its elbow. His hand covered his mouth, and his eyes still looked raw as he stared off into space.
“Joe?” I asked. “You still with us?” He didn’t move at first, but after a moment, he blinked, lowered his hand, and nodded. I blew a sigh of relief. I couldn’t do this without him. “You both understand everything I told you?”
This time, they both nodded, Max gravely, Joe wearily. They were both so over this. We all were. I couldn’t even begin to imagine having been stuck here as long as they had, but even I was ready to do or die.
“Chris should be here soon,” I said. “Once we have everything we need, we’ll make our move.”
No sooner had I spoken than we heard the slam of a car door outside. I got up and went out to the parlor, and the others followed. The front door swung open to reveal the usual murky mist of nothingness. Then a faded red ball fell out of the mist. It bounced on the hardwood floor a couple of times before rolling toward us. I stooped to catch it, then stood and tossed it to Joe, who caught it despite his surprise.
“This is real,” he said, his eyes wide as he spoke for the first time since I’d gotten back. “It’s Clarice’s.” He gave me a questioning look.
“I know you’ll keep it safe until we need it.” I hadn’t exactly told him about the ball. I probably should have, but I didn’t really know how to break it to him that we dug up his little girl’s grave. The question in his eyes gradually gave way to trust, if not complete understanding. He nodded.
“Whenever you’re both ready,” I told them.
Max closed his eyes. Joe studied the ball, rolling it back and forth in his hands, tracing the spots where paint had flaked off with his finger. Then he looked up at me and nodded.
“Max?” I asked.
He opened his eyes. “We’d better go now,” he said.
I turned toward the stairs. I took a deep breath, then started up them, with Joe and Maxwell close behind. Before I made it three steps, Joe caught my hand. I looked back at him.
“Love you,” he said.
I smiled. “Love you too.” I squeezed his hand, then let it go and continued my climb, still smiling.
He’d just made my job so much easier.
I’m not sure exactly when I figured it out, or at least came up with the theory that we were going with. Sometime between saying goodbye to Chris and laying out my plan for the boys, I’d had an epiphany.
Love. I know it sounds corny, but what else is strong enough to trump pure rage? Love was what had made each of us stronger and more real. It had given us the power to grasp objects, to hold each other...anger might have done that for me at first, but it was falling for Joe that had let me leave this house at will. It wasn’t as easy a solution as it sounds. Rage and hate were a heck of a lot easier to muster up on short notice.
But once you have love, it sure is a lot harder to get rid of.
Sarah didn’t know love. I could manage a tiny bit of compassion for her—after all, it wasn’t her fault she was born broken. But even in life, she was hollow and selfish, caring about nothing but her own desires. Add in all that rage, and she became a powder keg of hateful, malevolent energy.
Love was the one emotion too sophisticated for even a normal child to completely grasp or feel in its totality. It was the one feeling that grew deeper and stronger as we got older, wiser, and better able to understand it.
We had love in spades. Max had love for his family. They might be lost to him, but they still drove him and gave him power. Joe had his undying love for his child, and his new love for me. I had Chris, and the memory of our mother, and I had Joe. I had my desire to put an end to his suffering.
And we all three had the love for one another that comes with being comrades in arms.
Sarah’s anger might have been dynamite. But our love was a nuclear bomb.
Okay, like I said: corny. But effective. Or so I hoped.
I rounded the corner at the top of the stairs. Sarah’s ball flew at my head. I caught it, and it disintegrated in my hand, breaking down into non-cohesive bits of energy. That was another thing I’d figured out. If that wasn’t the real ball, then it had to be a phantom construct, a part of Sarah. If I could shield myself from it, then I should be able to shield myself from her. Talk about a confidence boost.
Sarah’s mouth opened in surprise, but if she was afraid, she hid it well beneath her anger. As Joe and Max came up and stood beside me, she ran at us, transforming as she came.
We clasped hands, like in some twisted game of Red Rover. I closed my eyes and thought of Chris—how I took care of her after mom died, holding her and stroking her hair while she cried, walking her through her first crush, and her first heartbreak, the pride I felt when she graduated high school, and then college. I thought of her being strong enough to go on without me.
I thought of Lilly. Not even being locked in that basement again and again could break her spirit. Not even dying could steal her joy of living. I’d managed to become a sister to her, too, in the short time we knew each other. As long as we remembered her, and loved her, she would never be completely gone.
I thought of Joe. Of his kisses and caresses, of how I wouldn’t have survived death without him. I thought of his sense of humor and his dry wit and his occasional propensity toward jerkiness that made him such a guy. I could feel his love envelop me, and knew he must feel the same thing.
It all happened so fast. All of these thoughts flashed through my mind, and I opened my heart and poured out all of the feeling that they inspired. Our clasped hands grew warm, and I felt a hot surge of energy and power at the same time something foreign rushed through me.
I opened my eyes as the last of the dark energy passed through them. I turned to see scattered particles draw together and take their little girl shape. Sarah gaped at us in shock, her eyes wide with fear. “How—how did you...”
“Now,” I said, holding my hand out for the ball. Joe placed it in my hand. I rolled it toward Sarah, and her eyes grew even larger and more frantic as she backed away so it didn’t touch her feet. “Where did you get that?”
“You wanted the ball,” I said. “You wanted it badly enough to kill for it. Now you can have it.”
She stared at each of us in turn, her little freckled face full of mistrust. We clasped hands in case she tried to attack us again. But her prize was too tempting to ignore. Keeping a wary eye on me, she bent to pick up the ball.
As soon as she touched it, a mist rose from it. Sarah jerked her hand back as if it had burned her. She backed up a few steps but watched in curious wonder as the mist formed itself into a little blonde girl.
“Clarice!” Joe tried to reach for her, but I held him back.
“Wait,” I told him. He strained against me, but I managed to hold him. “Just wait. This is her fight now.”
He looked at me, his face full of helplessness, but he stopped struggling. “Did you know this would happen?”
“Not exactly,” I admitted. I had no idea what the ball was for. I only knew Clarice wanted me to bring it here. That she would take it from there was just a lucky guess.
The two little girls just stood there, facing each other. Sarah’s face was a mask of pure hatred, while Clarice’s was perfectly serene. Clarice raised her hand and moved toward Sarah, but she jumped back. “Stay away from me!” she screeched.
I finally got it. “So what’s scarier than an eight-year-old psychopath?” I asked. Joe didn’t take his eyes off his daughter or say anything. I answered myself anyway. “A six-year-old’s sense of justice.”
“Leave me alone!” Sarah screamed. Clarice bent to pick up the ball. She held it for a moment, glanced back at Joe, and smiled.
“Baby,” he gasped, slumping in my arms a little more.
Then she plunged the ball into Sarah’s chest. That was unexpected.
Sarah threw back her head and screamed. As she did, a column of black smoke shot up out of her mouth, followed by a fountain of light. The smoke dissipated under the light’s assault, and little tendrils of light and energy trailed off toward us and past us. One flew past my head, and I turned to watch it, and gasped. They were forming into people. Soon, the hall was full of ghosts. Most of them were strangers to me, but some I recognized from pictures in the attic. I saw Ed among them.
Another spirit shot past me and took the form of Lilly. Beside me, Maxwell let out a cry and ran to embrace her. Ruth soon joined them.
The light overpowered Sarah. It burned her from the inside out, and within seconds, she dissipated just as her ball had done. Clarice’s ball dropped to the ground.
It was over.
Joe broke out of my arms and rushed to Clarice, dropping to his knees and pulling her into his arms. “Papa!” she squealed, and threw her tiny arms around his neck.
“Sweetness,” he sighed, finally smiling again as he rocked her back and forth. He pushed her back to look at her, then, laughing tearfully, pulled her close again.
Meanwhile, I stood there, crying my eyes out. This hit me like a Hallmark commercial and a sappy love song and a particularly powerful episode of a Joss Whedon show all packaged together and topped with a PMS bow.
Clarice pulled back and put her chubby little hands on each side of Joe’s face. Solemnly, she said, “We can go now, Papa.” As she said this, the ceiling above us seemed to open up as more light poured in. This was so awesome.
Joe stopped smiling. He looked like a kicked puppy, which was not what I expected. When he smiled again, his eyes were full of tears. “I know, baby.” He brushed hair out of her face and took it in his hands. “You go on.”
“What about you?”
“I’m gonna be okay. Don’t you worry about your pa.” He was really crying now, and I could tell it wasn’t for joy. He kissed her forehead and then pushed her away. “You go on now. Mind your daddy.”
Lilly came forward and took Clarice by the hand. “What about you, Joe?”
“Yeah,” I said. “What about you?”
He was still looking at Clarice, but he reached out to take my hand. “I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
He finally tore his eyes off his daughter to look up at me. He looked like a man who was about to lose everything in the whole wide world that he cared about…again. It ripped my heart out. “Sarah wasn’t what was keeping me here,” he said, then his mouth twisted into another bitter smile. “Got only myself to thank for that. I put myself here, and now I’m stuck here. There’s no leaving for me till Judgment Day.”
“But—” I sputtered. “But—that’s…that’s a complete rip-off!”
Around us, the others started vanishing, rising up into the light. I looked back and saw a look of pure joy on Ed’s face as he was taken up, presumably to finally be reunited with his wife.
“You go with Clarice,” he said, letting go of my hand.
I snatched his hand back. “As if!”
Finally, all that was left besides us were the Bairds and Clarice.
“Ron,” Lilly called, reaching a hand out to me, “come on. You might never get another chance.”
“It’s time to go,” Joe told me. He looked over at Clarice, and his face crumpled. He struggled to compose himself and looked back at me. “We both gotta let go now.”
I looked over at Lilly and her family. They all looked so peaceful. Wherever they were going, it couldn’t be bad. I looked back at Joe. “So how long do you think it is till Judgment Day?”
“Too long for you to be thinking what you’re thinking,” he said, standing up. “Don’t be a fool, Ron. Get over there where you belong!”
I bristled and said, “You know I don’t like being told what to do.”
“Blast it, woman! There are no second chances here, don’t you get that?”
I looked back at Lilly, and at Clarice, who was looking up toward the sky, her face the picture of serenity. I almost envied them.
But what kind of afterlife would it be without Joe?
“I do get it,” I said. I pushed my way into his arms and wrapped myself around him to hang on. “We only get this one chance.” I looked into his eyes. They were filled with relief and gratitude as much as anger.
He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do this.”
“You’re not,” I said and kissed him. I felt his arms tighten around me as his mouth responded to mine. It was tender and brief. There would be plenty of time for passion later.
He looked back at his daughter. We held each other and watched as the others moved on, then the light went away and the only thing above us was the ceiling once again.
Once she was gone, Joe collapsed. He dropped to his knees and I went down with him, holding him as brand new grief mixed with the old and did its best to tear him apart.
How could I have left this man alone?
We stayed like that long after he finally stopped crying. After I don’t know how long, he lifted his head to look at me. “Thank you,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and repeated, “Thank you.”
“I couldn’t have done anything else,” I told him, stroking his hair back from his face and wiping his damp cheeks. I smiled. “So I guess we’re gonna be stuck with each other for a while. Think you can handle that?”
He reached up to brush my bangs out of my eyes, then he caressed my cheek. Then he kissed me, pouring all of the passion into it that had been absent from the last kiss.
After a blissful eternity, he let me up for air. “Think you can handle that?” he asked.
“Guh,” was about all I could manage.
He smiled, and stood up. He held his hand out, and I took it and let him pull me to my feet. Hand in hand, we strolled through the house, for the first time not having to worry about getting ambushed by Sarah. Day was breaking outside, and sunlight poured in through the windows—another first. We heard a little dog yipping out on the front porch, and went outside to find Buster there, wagging his tail and barking excitedly at a car in the driveway. For a moment, we just held each other and basked in the glow of the first sunrise Joe had experienced in over a century.
“Told you it was impossible to destroy souls,” he said.
I poked him in the ribs. “Don’t start.”
Chris got out of the car and came toward us. “Did it work?”
“I thought I told you not to come back here.”
“Right, like I wasn’t going to check up to make sure everything went okay.”
I should have been irritated at her stubbornness, but all I could do was smile. “It worked.”
“Then why are you still here?”
With my arm still around Joe’s waist, I gave him a squeeze. “Turns out I still had plenty of reasons to stick around, after all.”
Chris looked in his direction, and a look of lusty appreciation came over her face. “So I see.”
Joe blinked. “She—” He pointed, then looked at my sister. “You can see me?”
Grinning, she nodded. “He’s hot.”
“I know!” I almost squealed, hugging him again.
Joe let out a bashful little laugh and pried my arms away. “Thanks,” he said. “I think I’m gonna let you gals catch up. I still need to recover.” Calling for Buster to follow, he went back inside.
We both watched him go. “Aw,” said Chris, “we embarrassed him. That’s so cute! I’m starting to get why you’re so into this guy.”
I realized I was beaming. Wow. I was happy. I was dead and stuck in limbo, but I was happy.
“Call me selfish,” said Chris, “but I’m glad you’re still here.”
I looked around. It was a gorgeous morning, and I was free to enjoy it. Joe and I both were. Haunting wasn’t so bad without all the mind games and hellish torture. Maybe I wouldn’t feel this way ten or twenty or a hundred years from now, but just then, I could think of worse places to be.
I looked at my sister and smiled. “So am I.”
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Click here to grab the sequel, Kindred Spirits. Here’s what you can expect from that:
Chris Wilson sees dead people. Sees them, hears them, and helps them finish their business so they can find peace. But when a local crime reporter does a hit piece painting her as a charlatan on the nightly news, she finds her future as a ghost whisperer in jeopardy. Fortunately, her big sister, Ron, deceased but not departed, remains as fiercely protective of her kid sister as she ever was in life.
Determined to vindicate Chris, Ron aims to give Derek Brandt a haunting he'll never forget. But Ron gets more than she bargained for when she discovers Derek is already haunted — by the ghost of his murdered brother. Jimmy Brandt is stuck in limbo, unable to communicate with his younger brother and unable to move on until his murder is solved. It's up to Chris to convince the highly skeptical Derek that his brother needs him, and that she's the real deal.
It's not an easy prospect, considering Chris and Derek have a rocky history beyond his slanderous news story. But swallowing her pride and anger to get Derek past his hostility and suspicion might be the easy part, considering there are mysterious forces, both human and other, that don't want this cold case warmed back up, and will kill to keep their secrets. Solving Jimmy's murder might be the most dangerous request Chris has ever taken on. But if she and Derek survive, they might just find that old enemies can turn out to be kindred spirits.
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