44 Book Four (8 page)

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.”

“Good,” she said, picking up the control. “Always tell me these things, Abby. We’re in this together.”

When she said that I almost lost it.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s see what happens to Mister Bates.”

“God, I hate that guy,” Kate said as she started the show up.

“Me too,” I said, the glow of the television bright in our faces.

CHAPTER 15

I picked up a pair of socks and wandered around Dick’s, checking out the Messi poster that was hanging above a display of jerseys. I had the same exact one in my room and had been looking for another, maybe one with the entire team, but they didn’t have any. I would have to find it online.

It was an exciting time to be a Barcelona fan. They were looking strong as they headed into the quarterfinals of the Champions League. They also had a shot of winning
La Liga
, beating out their hated rivals, Real Madrid. And Messi looked as if he was a real contender for the
Pichichi
, the award given to the top scorer in the Spanish league.

 “That guy knows soccer,” a young guy said as he walked up to me.

“No one better,” I said.

I was surprised actually that someone in the store even knew about Lionel Messi. While most agreed he was one of the greatest soccer players ever at only 24 years of age, and while millions of people around the world watched him play every week, most Americans had no idea who he was.

One of my dreams was to visit Spain someday and sit in the Camp Nou and watch my favorite team play a game. Messi, Iniesta, Carles Puyol, Xavi, Dani Alves. I wanted to watch Pep Guardiola, the best soccer coach in the world, coaching the best soccer team in the world.

But my current wage of ten dollars an hour plus a few tips wasn’t going to get me there anytime soon. Although I had started saving a little from my paycheck every week, I was only up to $250 and my car registration was due next month.

I made my way to the check out. There was a man in front of me and as I waited I pulled out my phone and checked for messages.

Mike asked, again, if I could come in an hour early. I texted him back telling him I could. I knew I would be working with Mo and was planning on asking her about the boy who was tattooed on her arm.

I always liked buying new soccer gear, even if it was just socks. It reminded me of the days when I played for my high school and flew all over that field, winning the ball and scoring. I was happy that I was playing again, but it wasn’t the same and sometimes it made me sad thinking that, save for the odd fantasy, my glory days were behind me. I could have been in college now if I hadn’t had the accident, maybe on a full scholarship, maybe even trying out for the US team.

But whenever it got me down, I told myself that anything could have happened. Nothing was a sure thing. Like what happened with Amanda, my ex-friend who I used to play with. She was starting goalie last year at a California college but then blew out her knee.

The cashier looked at me as I handed him my stuff, like he was waiting for something.

“Come on, Abby,” he said, laughing. “Take a good look at my face.”

It took me a moment to realize who it was.

“Conner?” I said. “Wow, it’s really been a long time.”

He came out from behind the register and gave me a hug before going back to ring up my things.

“So, you’re back playing soccer,” he said. “That’s good, Abby. I’m glad.”

I smiled, not really sure what to say. The last time I had talked to him he told me he was breaking up with me so he could date a cheerleader.

“It’s been forever,” he said, a little nervous. “Like we live in different cities or something. How have you been?”

He flipped back his hair like he always used to do when we were dating in high school. It felt like a lifetime ago. It was strange not seeing him for all these years. But that’s how things were around here sometimes.

“Fine,” I said. “How about you? What are you up to these days?”

“Just working and going to school part time. I’ve been here at Dick’s for about a year. You know, the economy. But I’m taking classes over at the community college and I’ll be transferring to U of O next year.”

“That’s great,” I said.

“And you?” he asked, putting my stuff into a plastic bag.

I was quiet as I slid my debit card through the machine and punched in my pin number, thinking of something to say. I looked behind me, hoping a customer would come up, but the store was pretty empty.

“I work over at Back Street Coffee for now. Still trying to figure out the next move, I guess.”

He nodded, his hair falling into his eyes and making him blink.

“Well, it was nice seeing you,” I said, grabbing the bag and taking a few steps.

“Yeah,” he said. “Hey, Abby, wait.”

I stopped and turned back around facing him.

“Do you think we could meet up sometime? I mean, just as friends. For coffee or a beer. You know. I always felt bad about how we ended.”

You should
, I thought. Conner had acted like a total loser, the way he broke up with me, and at the time it broke my heart. But now, looking at him, that all seemed so long ago and unimportant. It was almost like it hadn’t even happened.

“We’ll see,” I said.

I walked out of the store. As I put my bag in the back of the Jeep, I realized that Conner had actually helped me without even knowing it. When we were dating back in high school, I thought that I was in love with him. But after loving Jesse, I knew that it wasn’t even close. And if Conner hadn’t broken up with me, I might never have had that time with Jesse before the accident.

Really, it had worked out.

I headed to Back Street. Tonight was the night that I would tell Mo that there was a ghost who wanted to talk to her.

CHAPTER 16

It was dead at Back Street from seven o’clock on and we were already talking about closing early. David left at eight, although he lingered for a while, practicing some of his lines in front of me. But when he got a phone call, he took off.

“Bye, you two,” he said. “And remember, stop talking so much and get to work.”

The bells on the door chimed after he left and I stood by the window, watching his Camaro tear out of the lot.

I took a deep breath. It wasn’t something I was looking forward to, but I glanced back down at the table where the ghost was the other night and knew that I didn’t have a choice.

“Hey, Mo,” I said, walking up to her.

My voice was too high and I was nervous but I hoped she hadn’t noticed. She was cleaning out one of the machines.

“Yeah?” she said, not looking up.

I thought about waiting to talk to her until we officially closed up because I didn’t want to be interrupted if a customer came in. But it had been really quiet tonight.

“I need to talk to you,” I said.  She still didn’t look at me. “About something important. Could we close up a few minutes early and talk then?”

She looked up finally, her dark eyes curious.

“Yeah, sure,” she said slowly. “What about?”

Her energy darkened a little and I could tell she was annoyed. I couldn’t blame her. She had no idea what it was about and being that we spoke exactly three sentences to each other all month, she was rightfully suspicious. Maybe she thought I was going to try and convert her, get her to join a church or something.

“It’s about your tattoos. I just had a question.”

“Go ahead,” she said.

She put down the sponge and turned, facing me.

Our eyes met but I quickly looked away. I had a plan, knew what I wanted to say, but she wasn’t making it easy and the words were all jumbled in my mind.

“Well…”

“So you’re thinking of getting one after all,” she interrupted. “I get them done in Eugene. I can give you the name of the guy if you want.”

I shook my head.

“No, it’s not that,” I said, trying to smile and lighten the mood. “I’m too much of a chicken. No, I wanted to know about that one.”

I pointed to her arm, and she held it out in front of her, trying to figure out the one I was talking about.

“This one?” she asked, touching the broken heart.

“No,” I said.

She hesitated as she moved her finger down, touching his face. She didn’t say anything.

“Yeah.That one.”

As she glanced at her arm, I could see that I had hit a raw nerve and could almost hear the pain inside her in the silence that followed.

“What about it?” she said finally.

“Well, I was just wondering who that was.”

She looked over at the door as if a customer had come in, but nobody was there. When she looked back at me, her eyes were flat. She sighed loudly.