Unraveling Isobel (30 page)

“It was a plan,” he agreed. “I'm not sure it was a good one.”

I mock punched him in the shoulder. “If we'd gone to the police, they never would have believed us. Your dad needed something to make him confess, something supernatural.”

“You figured there weren't enough ghosts in this house? You had to make your own?”

“So now you believe me that there was a ghost?” I asked, seizing on the point.

“Maybe.”

“I think your sister knew what happened. That he left her out there. I think that's why she came back.”

“Maybe.”

I hated how vague boys could be. I glanced around the room. I'd wondered if Evie would show up when I was having the showdown with her dad, but there had been nothing. Not a blowing curtain or even a pile of seashells. Maybe she didn't need to hear her dad confess; maybe it was enough that someone was listening for her and that the truth would come out.

“You still think with everything that happened, the ghost could have been my subconscious?”

“Don't get touchy. I'm not saying it like there's something
wrong with you. I'm saying it's a possibility. Your brain could have pieced things together and then used the idea of a ghost as a way to make sense of things.”

“Fine, it's a possibility.” I snorted to give a sense of what I thought of his possibility.

Nate rubbed his face. “I don't want to think about this any more tonight. There will be plenty to sort out tomorrow. I'm guessing our parents are going to get a divorce.”

“I guess that takes care of that whole stepbrother, stepsister issue.”

“Wash the rest of that stuff out of your hair,” Nate said, giving me a soft shove toward the bathroom.

I bent over the sink, letting the warm water rinse through my hair. The swirl of dark tint went down the drain, growing lighter and lighter until the water ran clear and my hair was back to its normal light brown. I pulled a fresh towel off the rack and rubbed my hair dry.

“I take it you don't like me with black hair,” I said, leaning against the bathroom doorjamb.

“You dressed like my grandma is not a turn-on.”

“I took the dress off.”

“That's a turn-on.” He held out his hand.

I walked over and took it. He pulled me down onto the bed. He curled up behind me so that we were perfectly spooned. I could feel the heat of his body through our clothes. He nuzzled my neck; his soft kisses made me shiver.

“Still cold?” he whispered into my hair.

“Just a bit.” I pressed my body back against his. “What do you think is going to happen with the house?”

“I don't care.” His hands found the gap between my sweatshirt and yoga pants. His hands felt hot against my skin as he traced the line of my ribs. “With everything that's happened, I just want to be with you. I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow. I don't even want to think about it. The only thing I know for sure is that this is where I belong. The house isn't important; it's who you share it with that matters.”

I felt my breath quicken. I pulled his arm around me. I opened my eyes. There was still a pile of seashells on the table by my bed. I could feel his breath on my neck. I reached out and pulled the chain for my light. I could hear the rain outside, the plink of raindrops as they blew against the window. In the distance there was a low rumble of thunder. There was enough light coming from outside to see the shape of the furniture in the room. On the bookshelf I could just make out Mr. Stripes.

Then he winked. My breath stopped. I waited to see if it would happen again. I told myself it could have been a trick of the light, but I decided that it was Evelyn giving me her sign of approval.

I rolled over so I was facing Nate. He ran his thumb along the side of my face. I wrapped my arms around him, closed my eyes, and forgot the rest of the world.

The very first thanks go to you for reading this book. Without you, I'm left feeling like I'm talking to myself. A writer without a reader is a lonely thing. Special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to write to say you've enjoyed the books. For those of you who have told your friends to read my books, you're my hero.

I've had a longstanding love for librarians, English teachers, and booksellers. For all of you who have been supportive and shared my books with others—thank you. A special call out to the amazing people at Kidsbooks in North Vancouver. I would love your store even if it weren't right next to a cupcake store. (But it is darn convenient.)

A book may be written alone, but publishing takes a whole team. The team at Simon Pulse is amazing. My editor, Anica Mrose Rissi, is a writer's dream. For all the times she's cheered me on and talked me down off a ledge—thank you. I feel fortunate to call you both my editor and my friend. Cara Petrus and Jessica Handelman design covers that make me squeal, and I owe all the marketing and sales people a big kiss for all their support. My agent, Rachel Vater, has been my #1 cheerleader from day one. I'm so glad to still be working with her.

As always I have to thank my family and friends. Special thanks to Alison Pritchard, Serena Robar, Carol Mason, Robyn Harding, Brooke Chapman, Laura Sullivan, Jamie Hillegonds, Joanne Levy, everyone connected to The Debutante Ball, and Jen Lancaster.

To my dogs, who keep me in line, bark-bark, woof.