Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 01 - How to be a Ghost (7 page)

“Are you sure you’re not playing a joke on me, Libby? Because if you are, I’m so going to kick your butt.”

I leaned closer to her, sighing when I couldn’t hug her. “I wish this was a joke. Anyway, Ian thinks I might be still tethered to life,” I said.

“Tethered? You mean like a rope or whatever?”

“I guess. I was thinking maybe I’m lying somewhere unconscious.”

The idea perked Monica up. “Oh, you could be in a hospital, and maybe no one knows who you are.”

As Monica spoke, she leaped to her feet and spun to face me. The moment her gaze locked with mine, her eyes widened, her mouth fell open, and she let loose a scream to bring the house down. I threw my hands out to try calming her down, but she fell away from me and landed on her butt, still screeching.

“Aunt Monica?” Jake called. “What’s wrong?”

I spun to face the hall and lost all concentration. I imagined I flickered out to Monica. One minute I appeared before her. The next I was gone. She swung her head back and forth, looking around for me. At least she had stopped screaming by the time Jake entered the room, dressed in an old T-shirt and his Cookie Monster pajama pants with bare toes peeking out from the bottom.

“Why are you on the floor, Aunt Monica?” Jake asked, following her line of sight but obviously not seeing me. “What happened?”

“I-I-I…” Monica stuttered. “I thought I saw a mouse, but it was just a ball of yarn. You know from when your mom went through that knitting faze.”

The woman thought fast on her feet. I had to give her that. Still worried though, I watched Jake. He appeared to take her word for it and offered a few suggestions in his straightforward way about how she shouldn’t be scared of mice, but if she was, he would help her catch it.

I drifted toward my son and leaned in close to him. A deep inhale brought no scent, and tears stung my eyes. Jake smelled so sweet when he was fresh from a bath, and at that moment I craved to wrap him in my embrace and never let go. All I wanted was to show myself and hear him talk to me, to reassure him I had not and would not abandon him.

Monica led Jake back into the hall. Their voices reached me from the bedroom, but I couldn’t make out what they said. Not long after, Monica reappeared, treading with caution into the room, her eyes wide and bottom lip caught between her teeth. She paused in the doorway, holding onto the frame as if she feared being caught up in a sudden whirlwind.

“Libby?” she whispered. “Are you still here?”

I flickered into view beside the TV, and the screen turned to snow. “I’m here.”

Monica jumped, but this time she didn’t scream. I suspected the clenching of her jaw and the back of her hand shoved against her mouth was the single reason she didn’t. Slow, deep breaths appeared to calm her.

“Did you do that?” She pointed to the TV. I looked and moved away from it.

“Sorry. I can’t control it sometimes.”

“Libby, you’re… You…”

“I’m not,” I insisted. “Please believe me, Monica. I’m not dead.”

Tears filled my friend’s cheeks and slid down her face. “What else can I believe? You went to that store and now this? George—”

“I know but you said yourself, I could be in a hospital.”

She sprung into action and pounded out four-one-one. Soon she had the number for the nearest hospital and gave my description to the operator who answered the general line. With no luck there, Monica called seemingly every hospital within fifty miles of Summit’s Edge. One or two matched my description, but in both cases, the families had already identified their loved one. With the last reasonable hope fading, Monica placed her cell phone on the side table and sat in silence.

“Libby?” she said after five minutes.

“Yes?”

“I have to call Mason.”

“No!” The TV screen brightened and then went dark. I hoped I hadn’t busted it. A new set was also not in my budget, as were a lot of other items. I knelt before Monica, and to her credit, she didn’t shrink away, but goose bumps did rise on her cocoa skin. She ran palms over her arms as if to ward off cold, and I shifted back a little, giving her space. “Please, just give me a little time, Monica. I’ll figure this out. I’ll find my body, and everything will go back to normal.”

“You know I love you, girl,” Monica said with earnest. “But I have to think of what’s best for Jake too. Don’t you think he’s scared with you not here? He doesn’t know what happened. All he knows is his mom is gone. I lied to him and told him there was a family emergency that you had to go take care of, but you will be back soon.”

I flinched. Neither Monica nor I liked lying to Jake, and if losing my body hadn’t killed me, being away from my baby would. “We don’t have any family that I know of. Jake knows that too. There was only Mason, Mama, him, and me. Then I divorced his dad, and Mama passed.”

“And me,” Monica reminded me.

I touched her hand. She didn’t shiver, but she stared down at my wispy hand, barely there.

“I’m going to fix this, Monica,” I insisted.

“How? Are you going to call him and tell him yourself that you’ll be back soon?”

I wrung my hands. “I can’t use the phone.”

She blinked.

I pointed to the TV. “Something like that will happen, and a bunch of noise. I don’t understand it all.”

“So what will you do?”

I stood up and paced the room. Monica watched me float from one end to the other, her eyes full of curiosity and awe.

“If I store up some energy, I can materialize completely. I haven’t been able to hold it more than a minute, but I think I might be able to stretch it longer with rest. Then I will show myself to Jake, and he will feel better. We can tell him I’m not feeling well and you can stay here and look out for him while I can’t.”

Monica’s eyebrows rose, and she folded her arms across her chest. “You’re assuming I’m going to go along with this crazy plan.”

I pressed my palms together as if I intended to pray. “A week at most, Monica.
Please
?”

She made an annoyed sound and rolled her eyes.

“
Pretty
please?”

“A week, Libby. Not a day longer, and you be here tomorrow morning to kiss your son good-bye when I take him to school. Got it?”

“Got it,” I chirped, and concentrated hard to give her a brief hug and kiss and the cheek.

Monica touched her face staring at me. “You are a ghost, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean? You felt that didn’t you?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but it was weird. I don’t know how to describe it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Jake will notice the difference.”

I held up a finger and smiled. “But I’m sick, remember? He will assume the clammy feel is just the fever.”

“You say clammy. I say creepy.”

I moaned. “Some friend you are.”

“Hey, I’m letting you haunt me, aren’t I? Be grateful.”

The way she said “let” reminded me of the possibility of being banished, and it was my turn to shiver.

* * * *

Having no physical body to worry about had its advantages. For one, I didn’t need sleep. I could stay in Jake’s room all night and watch over him. I found I didn’t have a challenge with impatience because it seemed to be connected with time. I had the feeling time did not affect me, or rather I was not necessarily limited by it. One hour felt the same as ten. The drawback was if I let my mind wander, I lost track of time, and I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to watch Jake sleep and listen to his gentle breaths as his chest rose and fell. However, two hours into this enjoyment, I realized I might be sucking energy from Jake.

I considered going to my room where Monica slept, thinking my best course was to fill up so I could be ready to materialize for Jake, but feeding off my best friend also didn’t appeal. Ian hadn’t told me whether taking their energy would hurt them in any way, and I wasn’t taking a chance. I would clarify the effects the next time I saw him.

Standing in the hallway outside both bedrooms, I considered what I should do and where I could go at that time of night. Then I discovered a new aspect of being a ghost—loneliness.

I left my house and turned toward Ian’s. He should be up during the night, but halfway across my lawn I stopped. I had no idea if he had reinstated the barrier, and if he had, well, I guess I didn’t want to know. Not right now. I had had my fill of pain for the evening, and while I didn’t care about Ian that way, he was the strongest link to regaining my life, so I wasn’t ready to face it if he had changed his mind. For now, I needed to seek out energy from someone I didn’t mind syphoning.

Summit’s Edge was a ghost town. No bar inside the town’s limits. If you wanted to sit around with pals drinking, you would need to drive ten miles to the next town over. Oh, you could buy alcohol at the local ABC Spirits store, but you had to enjoy it at home alone or with friends. Mayor Olivia Walsh ensured it stayed that way in Summit’s Edge. In fact, had she been the one someone knocked off, no one would have been surprised. Then again, maybe the attack on George had been to get to her, and something had gone wrong. Could someone have blackmailed her and she wouldn’t give in, so that’s why they killed George? I couldn’t rule out the possibility, but then why did the townspeople keep reelecting the woman?

Summit’s Edge didn’t have a superstore. Nor did we have a mall. The nearest Walmart was miles away, and unless I could drive a car or could somehow zap myself there, I was out of luck. Not to mention it being the middle of the night. I considered heading toward the park but imagined Ian feeding and gagged.

I wound up at the police station, and at first, I started to walk on by, feeling a sense of dread like I would be arrested on sight. Then I remembered I didn’t have to show myself at all. Drifting in through the door, I found a young man at the front desk, nodding off while trying to hold a book open. I didn’t recognize him and figured he was someone’s grandson down for summer break and needed to make some extra cash working the graveyard shift as a dispatcher. Nothing ever happened in the middle of the night—or almost nothing, not withstanding George’s murder—but Olivia insisted on staff being available at all times.

The police station wasn’t very big, more like a square building with a front desk, a couple of deputy desks on the side, an office for the chief, and another for booking, equipment, and evidence lockers. Beyond the front area was a bathroom and a closet, and farther still, cells. Two cells were all Summit’s Edge could provide, or ever needed.

I drifted through the wooden swinging gate into the dispatcher and deputy area on back toward the chief’s office. As I neared, I noticed a light beneath the door. Either the chief had left it on, or he pulled some late hours. On the other side of the door, I paused to take in the office. The room was not much more than a closet, and the chief’s desk took up too much of the space. Piles of paper and folders cluttered his desk, some seeming to have spilled over onto the floor. Two visitor chairs had been crammed into the limited space before the desk, and within the leftover area were scuffed and scratched file cabinets.

Clark sat behind his desk rubbing his eyes. His hair hung too long over his forehead, and he brushed it back with impatience. Looked like someone else needed to visit the barber. I drifted closer but not enough to cause a chill and studied the man. Clark’s eyes were full of weariness like he hadn’t slept over the last twenty-four hours or more, and unless I misread he was worried. I took a chance and moved closer to peer over his shoulder. The folder he tapped a finger on had my name written along the tab. I gulped and floated backward. Was I the primary suspect in the murder? I had no motive. He must know that.

Clark shifted broad shoulders and raised his arms over his head. I sighed. Why hadn’t such a good man married after all this time? We were the same age having graduated with the same class. While I had attended college locally and became engaged to Mason, Clark went away to college. I didn’t recall where, but he hadn’t stayed away. He returned after gaining a degree in criminal psychology and worked as an officer. Five years ago, he had been promoted to chief of police. Of course that made him an eligible bachelor among the local women, but none had captured him. I had heard of Clark dating but nothing serious. As I floated there watching him, I wondered if it was fear of commitment as was the case with many men. I found him deliciously attractive and appealing with his air of authority, but whoever heard of a ghost dating?

“Where is she?” Clark muttered, and my eyes widened. I realized he meant me, but what got to me was the concern I heard in his voice. “She couldn’t have done this, but why disappear?”

If only you knew
, I lamented in silence.

Clark’s hand hovered over the folder, but he didn’t open it no matter how I willed him to. I spotted other familiar names, but luck was not on my side. He did not peruse any of the information. The single sheet that did pop out at me was the one Clark stood up carrying and walked over to the fax machine to send out to a preset distribution list—an All Points Bulletin for me. The sheet indicated that Liberty Grace, aka Libby Grace, was wanted for questioning by the Summit’s Edge police department. My heart dropped, and the only reason I didn’t sink into despair was because I feared I would
sink
into despair.

After spending several hours with Clark, I returned home and waited in the living room until the sun rose in the east and Monica groaned in the bedroom, pounding the alarm clock. She stumbled from my room to Jake’s and then stopped in the doorway. Her clouded expression told me she pondered whether last’s night visit from me really happened. I remembered I hadn’t practiced holding my solid appearance longer than a minute, but I planned on giving it my all at the right time.

My moment came when Jake drooped over another bowl of cereal. I couldn’t fix him a hot meal, but I could give him a hug and kiss. In fact, my arms itched to hold him. Monica went through the ritual of ensuring my son washed his face, brushed his teeth, and dressed properly for school. She hadn’t tried to speak to me, but I noted how she peered in shadows and hesitated before entering a room or the hall. By the time they had sat at the kitchen table, I could tell she chided herself over thinking I had appeared with a crazy story about being a ghost. I had to do this now or never.