The Reason (20 page)

I remember pieces of the story now. "And you had a son with him, right, Sherry?"

"Aye. My Harlan Jr. He was mine and no one was going to take him away from me. I overcame the madness to take care of him. He was my world."

Becca whispers low to me. "I'm sure he was one hell of a mama's boy."

"No kidding," Jason says.

"Shhh." I don't want anything to push Sherry away when we're so close with her. My heart aches with the suffering the woman experienced. Thuds in my chest reverberate into my head, causing an anvil of a migraine. It seems to press against my temporal lobe, squeezing out all logic and sensibility. "I need to think," I say.

My fingers fly to my temples, rubbing away at the empathic site. A doctor I'm not, but the diagnosis is becoming clear to me. Something is pressing against Sherry's brain. Certain blood vessels in the head aren't receiving enough oxygen, thus leading to her madness. Of course, it didn't help that her family locked her away. In later years, when she was a wife and mother, the pressure built on a daily basis, turning her into a deranged being.

Loreen's hands fly to her head as well. She rubs hard as if connected to what I'm picking up. Today, a CT scan could easily find the problem. Chemo, radiation, surgery, or even laser treatment might be able to destroy such a manifestation of runaway cell division.

In one simple word. "Cancer," I say in a hissed breath.

Celia flinches. "Poor woman. She had no clue about her madness."

"Apparently not." With all the energy I can allow my still-healing body to project, I mentally beg Sherry to show herself to me. In seconds, the transparent figure of the sad woman manifests before me.

"Ho. Ly. Shiite Muslim!" Celia exclaims. "I-I-I ... am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?"

"
Très excellent!
" Taylor joins in. She grabs her video camera and points it in the direction we are all—and I mean every single one of us in the room, including my mother, who gasps audibly—seeing the apparition of Sherry Biddison.

My mom speaks up. "Cancer would have been near impossible to diagnose properly in those days. From the talk of her madness, it could have been that the pressure was so intense in her skull from the tumor that she had no way to control her actions."

"Thanks, Mom." I face the apparition that is now taking full shape.

"She's there, right?" Celia asks.

"Yep. Your first. Welcome to my world."

Sherry apparently releases Loreen from the channeling session because Loreen collapses into Massimo's arms and startles awake.

"You're okay, Loreen," he says, so comfortingly. "I've got you."

Sherry Biddison has a captive audience. We are all paying rapt attention, watching her float about four inches off the ground. Donn's mouth hangs open, and Shelby-Nichole too moves in to get a better look. It's not every day a normal—nonsensitive—person is treated to an FBA. That's Celia tech talk for full-body apparition. (Okay, so she wasn't the one who coined it, but that's who I learned it from.)

"Why did you try to hurt your daughter-in-law, Virgilian?" I ask to the ghost's face.

Sherry frowns. "She took away my Harlan Jr."

"Not really," I note. "She only married him and gave him a child."

"He-he-he was all I had," she says, so eerily quiet that I get chill bumps on my arms. Only now do I realize that the tumor coupled with the madness of being locked away was more than Sherry could stand. With no medicine to help her, she gave in to her neurosis.

It's so clear to me. If we could have had this convo the last time we were here, I might not have been attacked and injured so badly. Then again, I wouldn't have had the experience with Grandma Ethel and Emily that I had. I wouldn't have learned the truth about my life. And I wouldn't have a future quest in life as strong as the one I have now.

"You have to forgive yourself, Sherry. You have to let go of the hatred. You have to release the hurt built up inside of you."

My team gathers around, everyone still in awe of the figure before us. It's like no one is breathing or even thinking as they wait to see what is next.

Even now, it's apparent: Sherry trusts no one.

I walk toward her bravely, knowing she could very well take a pop at me again. "I understand what you're feeling, Sherry—I too have been lied to all of my life." I try not to look at Mom because I have no need to hurt her. However, her motherly eyes touch me and she smiles. She's aware of what I have to do here.

Another step in Sherry's direction. "You have to trust your family, though, to protect you and do the things they feel are in your best interest when you're too young to understand yourself. It may not seem right at the time—and I don't condone your parents locking you away—but you
must
forgive. Not only your parents but your husband for whatever his intentions were and your son for sharing his love with someone else."

Celia clears her throat slightly. "Ummm ... like, hi, Sherry. Celia Nichols here. I did some research on Mayor Biddison and his son, who followed in his footsteps as a mayor of Radisson." Her hands shake nervously as she continues. "Did you know that the baby Virgilian was carrying was a little girl? She and Harlan Jr. named her Sherilyn, in your honor."

Sherry breaks down in tears. "Lord have mercy. After what I tried to do to her?"

"You were her family," I say. "She only wanted what was best."

An obviously moved Sherry puts her hands to her chest. "I wanted her to suffer the pain and heartache I'd felt. I'd done so many things wrong, and I suppose I wasn't responsible for everything I did—with this cancer you say I had. I am truly sorry for what I did to Virgilian. This is why I have been stuck in this manor. Day in and day out of watching happy families, needing them to be in as much pain as I was in. That was wrong of me."

Taylor wants to speak her mind all the same. "Life isn't one big party, ma'am. Neither is the dynamics of one family or another
la fin du monde.
The only thing that actually
is
the end of the world is ... well, when the world ends." Taylor wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Jason moves to her side so he's within hugging reach if necessary. "See, my mama tried to escape the pain she was going through. She took too much medication—we have that now in our time—and she ended up only hurting her children and herself more. She's now being put in an institution where she can be monitored and counseled so she doesn't do any harm to herself or anyone else again. With that, though ... my brother and I are losing everything that's important in our lives."

Sherry nods. "I'm sorry for your mother, child."

"The point is," Taylor emphasizes, "that you're not alone, Sherry. Everybody hurts ... sometimes. It's part of life."

"Thank you, REM," Becca says quietly.

Celia elbows her hard in the rib cage.

"May I?" Father Mass asks.

"Of course."

He crosses himself and closes his eyes in prayer for a moment. When his dark orbs land on our ghostly visitor, he says. "You're a woman of God, Sherry Biddison. I feel that about you."

"Aye, I am."

"Ask God for forgiveness. He will heal you and make you whole in his holy fellowship in heaven. All you have to do is let go and accept your death. Vengeance is not something that belongs to us. Let go of the confusion and hatred, Sherry. Go in peace and may the grace of God be with you. Now, and forevermore."

"Amen," we say as a group.

Immediately, the air becomes lighter; the scent of aged wool and mustier times recedes. Sherry is no longer before us and no longer with us. I know she has crossed into the light.

"We did it," I say to everyone.

"No, baby girl," Mom says. "You did it."

Sherry Biddison is now at peace. This house is at peace. Mayor Shy and Shelby-Nichole can continue living here and going on about their lives as usual. Most everyone can. Well, Jason and Taylor have to adjust to their new lives, but they're both smart and resilient. They'll do fine.

If only it could be that easy for me. Where do I go from here?

Mom wraps her arm around me as if she knows of my hesitation and internal doubt. Without question, I am loved and cherished by the Moorehead family—the only family I've ever known. Out there, somewhere, though, there are people who are part of me. People who I come from.

And like Sherry Biddison and most of the spirits the ghost huntresses have encountered, I
will
need answers.

M
ONDAY MORNING,
I
AWAKEN
surprisingly early, considering the late hour our investigation ended.

There's no Emily there to rouse me with her motherly ways, and my own mom chose to let me sleep in.

However, in just a few hours, Taylor and Jason will be off to Alaska. As much as I hate it, it is what it is. It's reality.

I shower, shampoo, and shave my legs, and then take an extra long time blow-drying my hair and running the curling iron through it to get some body at the ends. I wand my eyelashes with a fresh tube of Lashblast and paint a smattering of lilac soufflé shadow on my lids. I dress in my cutest pair of Seven jeans—the ones with the sparklies across the butt pockets—and a red spaghetti-strap tank underneath a cropped black sweater. With one last glance in the mirror, a dusting of some gloss, and a slipping on of my Steve Madden mules, I'm ready to see my first boyfriend off on his new adventure.

Outside my house, Celia leans against my Honda Fit concentrating greatly on whatever she's manipulating on her BlackBerry.

"Word Mole?" I ask.

Her waggling tongue slips back into her mouth. "No. Sudoku."

"You still can't beat me," I say with a laugh.

"Yeah, well, that's why I practice."

I unlock the car doors and nod to the passenger side. "You coming with?"

"To Casa Tillson?" she asks.

"Where else."

We ride in conversational silence as an old-school best of Earth, Wind, and Fire CD spins out for us. I power the windows down, and we pace ourselves through the streets of Radisson, past the school and through the square over to Hancock Street. Number 305, to be precise. Ironically, just this morning, I looked up the meaning of this combination of digits in my Angel Numbers book:

God and ascended masters are guiding you through this Divine transition. All is well, and you are safe.

I don't know whether that speaks to Jason and Taylor or to me—perhaps to all of us. It's a good message that warms the cockles of the heart and gives me a sense of peace.

In front of the simple Colonial-style house, Taylor drags a rather large Louis Vuitton bag behind her. I had no idea they even made suitcases
that
large. Hope she knows that airlines charge for each piece of luggage these days.

Mr. Tillson relieves her of the load and swings the behemoth valise into the back of his rented SUV.

"Y'aaaaaaaaaalllll," Taylor squeals when she sees us. The two of us are barely out of the car before our friend attacks us with a goodbye hug. Massive tears are shed by all of us. And you wonder why I didn't put on eyeliner this morning when I was fixing up.

"I'm going to miss you so badly, Tay-Tay," I say affectionately. Never have I ever met someone as popular and pretty as Taylor who is also as genuine and real.

"Me too," she says into my shoulder.

"You have our e-mails and cell phones," Celia says, like a mother sending her kid off to summer camp. "We can also IM and chat online just like we're across town from each other. Nothing has to change."

Tears shimmer in Taylor's eyes. "Y'all are the best friends I've ever had. Becca came by a little while ago and gave me this." Taylor tugs up the left leg of her jeans to reveal a tattoo of a small ghost on her ankle.

"You did not!" I say. "Becca did that?"

Taylor laughs heartily. "It's totally done in henna. But I think we should all get a real one. A symbol of our time together."

Celia's eyebrows lift. "Now
that's
an idea."

"I'm even thinking of starting my own ghost-hunting team once I get to Alaska," Taylor announces. "The one rule will be that nobody wears Uggs."

I laugh, knowing there's a pair of those ugly things in the way back of my closet.

Jason exits the house hauling a gigamonic duffle bag on his shoulder. He looks just as gorgeous today as that first time I saw him in the school cafeteria after dreaming about him. No one on the planet has blue eyes to match his, and I'll never forget the way they stare at me with such affection.

"I think that's it," he says, hefting the bag into the vehicle.

"Are you bringing the kitchen sink too?" his dad asks.

"Humor me, Pop," Jason says. Then he turns to me and holds out his hand. "Come here, you."

I fall into step next to him as we walk to the other side of the car. Taylor and Celia continue to chat so that Jason and I can have a moment together.

He wraps his long arms around me and holds me so closely it seems like I'll be behind him at any second. His heartbeat strums in his chest that's pressed up against me, and I realize this is as hard for him as it is for me. This guy truly digs me.

"I love you so much, Kendall."

"I love you too, Jason. I always will."

His cool lips warm as they touch mine, parted slightly for the exhilaration of our final moment together as official girlfriend-boyfriend. The kiss deepens and intensifies to match the tumultuous emotions we're both feeling. For the first time, I sense Jason's thoughts directly. He's afraid to leave me at such a critical juncture in my life although there's nothing he can do about it. It feels to him like he's abandoning me.

I withdraw from the kiss, but not from him. "You're not abandoning me. You're keeping your family together. You and Tay need your dad right now. Your mom will get good medical care, and who knows what will happen. We have to stay positive, Jase."

His thumb brushes across my bottom lip in a whispered reverence. "You are always Ms. Susie Sunshine. That's one of the things I love about you, Kendall."