Forty-Four Box Set, Books 1-10 (44) (56 page)

“At least he’s okay, right?” I said.

“I guess he’s all right. But he sounds strange. Told me to say hi to you and to tell you again how sorry he is for everything. How you shouldn’t have been put through that horror. And that he still feels responsible for not keeping you safe.”

I sighed.

I knew from reading his energy that Nathaniel had never felt any guilt about the things he had done, the lives he had ruined, the people he had killed. And there were so many. I was one of the lucky ones. I had gotten away. And yet, here was his brother, who hadn’t done anything wrong, feeling guilty. It wasn’t right. We had all been trapped in Nathaniel’s insanity through no fault of our own. But Dr. Mortimer didn’t see it that way.

“He has nothing to be sorry for,” I said.

“The sins of the brother I guess,” Kate said.

“Tell him next time you write to him. Tell him he doesn’t have one thing to be sorry about. I want him to know that I feel that way. It makes me mad that he’s feeling responsible for his brother.”

It sent chills down my spine thinking about Nathaniel, those strange, almond eyes full of an intensity and excitement about his research. He was so sure of his ideas and his experiments, so positive that he had found a solution to death.

I shivered as I thought of him, his body lying there on the floor that day I had been rescued.

For a long time, I was sure that Nathaniel was wrong about his claim that he was the one who had saved me after I was dead for 44 minutes. I had drowned in a mountain lake and when they brought me into the hospital, I was gone. But Nathaniel was there, with his serum, and he injected me and somehow, soon afterwards, I woke up from death.

I didn’t believe it for a long time. But now, after my time on the island, I knew in my heart that it was true. That I was alive only because of the injection. That his serum did, in fact, bring me back to life that terrible night and that it was Nathaniel Mortimer who had saved my life. 

It haunted me sometimes, the knowledge that I owed my life to such a man. During the day, I was pretty good about not thinking about it. But in those long, desperate hours after midnight, the thoughts exploded in my head and pinballed inside my skull and I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

I looked over at Kate. She was still lost in thought. I picked up the control and flipped it on, finding
Sweet Genius
, a reality show that I liked to watch sometimes.

“That’s just life, isn’t it?” Kate said “You finally figure out what you want, but then it’s too damn late.”

“He’ll be back, Kate,” I said. “He loves you.”

I wondered why I had said that, when I knew that sometimes love just wasn’t enough.

CHAPTER 13

We weren’t able to close up on time so I texted Kate to let her know that I would be late.

Thanks for the heads up. See you soon.

Sometimes I hated Mike’s policy about how if a customer was sitting down and it was closing time, we couldn’t ask them to leave. We could start closing up, lock the doors, turn over the sign, but we had to wait patiently until they finished their drinks and left on their own.

Sometimes waiting was tough. I was tired and wanted to go home. And the two women who were engaged in an animated conversation seemed like they were never going to stop talking, even with the chilly glares that Mo sent their way every few minutes.

They also ignored us as we mopped and wiped down tables.

“Time to go,” Mo said under her breath, a little louder than I was expecting, as she walked by them and collected a few dirty cups.

But she was right. It was getting late and I found myself zoning out as I stood, staring into space. I was counting the hours that I had slept over the last three nights and had come up with eight. No wonder I was so emotional all day, and had felt like crying over nothing. It must have been all related to lack of sleep.

I had even snapped at Ty earlier, when he called and told me he couldn’t come over for dinner on Friday. They had asked him to work that night. It was pretty stupid anyway because I was way too tired to be slaving away on the Bolognese Lasagna I had planned to cook, but I was still upset. I called him back later and apologized about my behavior.

“No biggy,” he said. “I’m sorry too. Can’t we just do it on Thursday instead?”

“No, that won’t work. But how about next week?”

“Perfect,” he said.

I yawned again and started emptying trashcans, hoping the two women might finally get that it was time to hit the road. But no hope was needed. Mo, at the end of her rope, walked over and told them that we were closing.

“Screw the policy,” she said to me as she walked back over to the counter.

I looked at clock. It was close to ten.

“Bye, girls,” the larger woman said as she pushed open the door. Mo didn’t answer and I just gave a little wave to their backs.

There were still a few things to do, but we worked well together now. I didn’t mind Mo’s silences anymore and appreciated that I didn’t have to try and think of something to say. It wasn’t like that with Mike. I was always stressing about topics when he came up front and we worked next to each other. I decided that it was nice working with Mo after all.

I pulled down the blinds while Mo turned up a song by Rural Demons, a local band that sounded like a cross between a young Steve Earle and Edgar Allan Poe. She counted out the register. She was fast and took the money back to the safe.

I still didn’t know much about Mo, but David could be counted on to pass along any gossip he heard about her. Like about how she had just broken up with the lead singer in her band. And about how Mike was trying to promote her into a management position for the new branch, but she didn’t want to do it.

It had taken a while, but I finally realized that Mo and I both were at Bend High for a year.  When I was a freshman, she was a senior. But back then she had real long, black hair and didn’t have the tattoos or piercings. She looked totally different, which was probably why it had taken me so long to put it together. 

I started sweeping the floor for the last time. I was humming along to the music but stopped suddenly, letting go of the broom.

The ghost boy was sitting at the last table, staring at me.

My heart thundered in my chest. It was time to figure out what he wanted.

I gathered up my courage and inched closer. I could see his scars clearly now, deep and dark across his face and arms. He had been in an accident, I was sure of that. A real bad accident.

I made my way over toward him. He was sitting on one of the chairs, his feet crossed in front of him. We looked at each other for a long time. 

“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low. I didn’t want Mo to hear me talking out loud, thinking I was insane.

“I’m Spenser,” he finally said, nodding. 

“Hi, Spenser,” I said. “So how old are you?”

“Twelve,” he said, looking around the coffee shop.

His dark hair was straight and thin, hanging past his shoulders. His pale skin bright against the shadows behind him.

I tried to seem relaxed so I wouldn’t scare him away. But when I looked up at him again I saw that he was fading, disappearing before my eyes.

“Do you need my help with something?” I asked, feeling my knees buckle.

“I… I… messed up,” he said softly.

“Messed up? What do you mean?” I asked.

He just nodded, and looked back up at me, his eyes urgent.

“Time is running out,” he said.

I heard Mo come out from the back and he vanished, like he had never even been there.

“Okay, you almost done?” she shouted to me over the music. “Time to get outta here.”

“Yeah,” I said, taking off the apron, rubbing my arms to chase away the chills.

What did he mean I was running out of time?

At least I had a name. Spenser. It was a beginning.

We quickly finished boxing up the day-old muffins for the homeless shelter and left them on the counter for the pickup in the morning and grabbed our stuff and headed toward the door.

I turned abruptly to ask her if she had turned the lights off in the back when I caught sight of her arm and dropped my car keys on the floor.

“Oops,” Mo said sarcastically.

But I just stood there, paralyzed, staring.

“Need help?” she said.

I nodded, but couldn’t pry my eyes off the tattoo on her arm. I hadn’t ever seen that one before.

It was a face.

It was Spenser.

CHAPTER 14

I drove home in the dark, a combination of white flakes and rain falling steadily on the windshield, the wipers on high and the heat shooting out from all the vents.

As I headed down Bond, I was wishing that Jesse would just appear out of nowhere and be here next to me in the passenger’s seat. I hadn’t seen much of him lately and now, after seeing the ghost and seeing Mo’s tattooed arm, I needed his help. I needed to talk to someone.

On the other hand, I knew he wouldn’t want me to get involved with a ghost. The words were already on my tongue, but I held back from calling his name, from asking for help,

Maybe I could talk to Kate. It was time to tell her, anyway, that I was seeing a ghost. I promised her that I would always tell her about any ghosts, visions, or strange energies surrounding people. I didn’t like to upset her, but I could see the importance of both of us knowing about those things.

I pulled up into the driveway and clicked the garage door opener. At night, we always parked our cars inside the garage now. It was a tight fit and as I drove in, I was careful not to scrape Kate’s Subaru.

Kate opened the side door for me and I grabbed my bag and said hello as I walked into the house, the smell of fresh paint greeting me.

“Good day?” she asked.

“It was okay,” I said. “How about you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Got it done.”

We stood in the kitchen and I drank a glass of water. She told me about an interview she had with the forest service and the story she wrote. I told her about the chatty women who kept us working late and about how Mo finally kicked them out.

“Good for her,” Kate said. “That’s tough when that happens. Reminds me of when I worked at Red Robin back in high school. You still get paid, but it’s not fun waiting around. I mean, just because someone’s making minimum wage doesn’t mean they don’t have a life.”

“Hey, I don’t make minimum wage,” I said.

I wasn’t that far from it, but still.

“Stand down, Craig. No insult intended. I’m just saying, it’s not like you and Mo own the place and you’re making money off them. It’s late. Get the hell out. What are they doing drinking coffee at ten at night anyway?”

“Who knows?” I said, yawning and rubbing my face.

“Hey, come look at the bathroom. I finished it tonight. Just about every room in the house has been painted. I just have the hallway and your room left and I’m done.”

I followed the strong smell. She had done a nice job. The walls were darker than before, but looked fresh and clean.

“So it’s green?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Sage Green.”

“Sounds nice,” I said. “I mean, looks nice. Really nice. You’ve done a great job. The entire house looks, I don’t know, elegant.”

I yawned again.

“You want to get to bed? We can watch the show tomorrow night instead.”

I had forgotten that we had made plans to see an episode of
Downton Abbey
. But I shook my head.

“No way. I want to see if Bates is charged with murder. Let me change and I’ll be right out.”

Kate and I had just discovered the British TV show about rich people and their servants. It sounded boring when she suggested it but had turned out to be a great series. We started watching it two weeks ago and were already deep into the second season.

I put on my pajamas, washed my face, and grabbed my new down comforter. I shuffled out to the living room and threw myself down on the slippery leather.

“You want any dinner?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “Too late. I’m fine. I stuffed in a muffin at about eight.”

“How about some tea? It would only take a minute.”

“Nope, really I’m good.”

“So how was the rest of your day?” she asked.

“Fine.”

I sat trying to think of a way to tell her about the ghost, but was having trouble finding the words.

Kate paused the show and pulled her legs up, crossing them in front of her.

“So what’s up?” she asked as she put down the remote.

I smiled. I had forgotten that it wasn’t always so easy to hide things from her.

I spilled it. Everything. I didn’t know if I was too tired or just desperate to tell someone, but I told Kate the entire story of seeing the ghost boy, out on the hiking trail, at the soccer park, and at work just a few hours ago. I made sure to emphasize that he didn’t scare me, that he wasn’t like Annabelle. He wasn’t angry or mean. He was just lost and needed some sort of help.

Her eyes narrowed and I could tell she was worried.

“Damn, Abby. I guess we should just be getting used to all this, but I wish they would leave you alone. But they don’t. They keep trying to pull you back down into their crap.”

There was anger in her voice. I finished telling her anyway, about Mo and her tattoo.

Kate sighed.

“Well, what can I do to help? You want me to try and research this kid, see if we can find out what happened to him?”

Kate was always Kate. My nose started stinging and I could feel the water pooling in my eyes as I thought about how lucky I was to have her in my life.

“Abby, you okay?” she said.

“I’m just tired,” I said. “Let me see what Mo says. I work with her again soon. Maybe it won’t be such a big deal. Maybe it’s kind of like a translation gig, you know?  The ghost boy just wants to tell her something.”

Kate shifted in the sofa.

“Maybe it’s her brother,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Thanks for listening. It helped.”