The cold knifed through her, and she gasped, and May was everywhere, flowing through her veins, staring out from behind her eyes, filling her, blotting her out.
Stop! Andie said, but no words came out because May had taken her tongue.
May stretched Andie’s body to feel it move. “God, this is good.”
Get out, get out, get out NOW! She gave a frantic shake for air and light, but May smothered her, held her.
“Oh, please. I gave you every chance. I told you I wouldn’t quit, and you really thought I’d just give up?”
Andie pushed back frantically, trying to push May out, and May laughed as she expanded her hold, and Andie’s world went black and white, full of icy cold filling her like the taste of poison.
“You really think you evicted me that night at the house with North? I quit because you threw up, you idiot. You have no idea what I can do. You think Crumb put the salvia in your tea? Half the time you were talking to her, it wasn’t her at all, it was me!”
NO, Andie screamed, but she was blocked everywhere she turned, her own thoughts drowning in May’s—
“Andie?” Alice said, and May turned around to see the little girl in her nightgown.
Run, Andie thought, but Alice couldn’t hear her.
“I want to make banana bread, too,” Alice said, pulling a chair over to the counter.
“We can’t, honey,” May said brightly. “See? The bananas are all brown.”
Alice froze climbing onto the chair.
“We’ll get new yellow ones tomorrow,” May went on, but Alice was backing away. “What’s wrong?”
Run, Andie screamed at her.
“Nothing,” Alice said. “I’m just very tired. We’ll make banana bread tomorrow.”
She walked out of the kitchen calmly, and then Andie heard her on the stairs. Running.
“I blew that one,” May said. “What’d I do wrong?”
Get out of my body! Andie screamed at her.
“You have two choices here,” May said. “You can share this body with me, or you can fight me and I’ll smother you and take it all for myself. Which, frankly, is what I’d like. I know it’s mean, but a girl has to live.”
Stay away from Alice! Stay away from my kids!
“Hey, they were my kids first. I love those kids. I’ll take good care of them. And I’ll be better to North than you ever were. I’ll like the things he wants to give me, I’ll like being his wife.”
NO, this is MY LIFE, Andie raged, but she could feel the sound echo as her body felt farther away, and her view of the world became scratchier, like a battered old black-and-white film.
“You weren’t even using it. Don’t be a dog in the manger.” May smiled at her reflection in the dark window over the kitchen sink. “It’ll be all right. In a little while, you won’t even know. I held on to Crumb too long once and she almost stroked out. I think the part that’s you will just . . . fade away. You said you’d rather die than be a shadow.”
You’re not going to do this, I’ll stop you—
“You can’t. This is one thing you can’t fix. So just go toward the light, honey. I have it on very good authority that there’s something wonderful over there.”
“Who are you talking to?” North said from the doorway.
May whirled around. “Nobody! Just myself. You know what a flake I am!”
“I never thought of you as a flake.”
He came into the kitchen and May went to him and put her arms—My arms, Andie thought—around him.
Andie thought, He’ll know, but she knew he wouldn’t, there was no way he could know, he didn’t believe in ghosts, and May had been studying her for a month, watching the two of them together for four days, and she was smart. May wouldn’t make mistakes.
“Boy, are you cold,” North said and rubbed her arms.
“Make me warm then,” May said and kissed him, pressing her—MY!—body against him.
North kissed her back, the deep, longing kiss that always made Andie’s knees weak, and she could feel May respond, feel her own body respond, but it wasn’t her. NO, it’s not me, it’s not me, STOP!, but when he pulled back, he looked deep into her eyes, and she thought, He can’t see me. He couldn’t see me when it was me, he’ll never see me now.
North pushed against her with his hips, trapping her against the counter, his body hard on hers, and Andie thought, She’s winning, she was drowning in black and white, the cold immobilizing her, as if she were trapped in May’s cold, dead body . . .
“Tell me what you remember,” he said to her.
“What?” May said, and he kissed her again, and she smiled.
“Tell me what you remember about us,” he said, “tell me what you’ve missed.”
You don’t remember anything, Andie taunted her. You don’t know him. You don’t know us.
“I missed this,” May said, grinding her hips against his. “I missed you, lover.”
“Tell me something we did that you want to do again, something just for us.” He smiled into her eyes.
“Uh, dancing. I love dancing with you. And . . . baking. And . . .”
You don’t know, Andie said, and grew a little warmer, not warm, but not quite so freezing cold, as May began to panic.
“I don’t care about the past, make love to me,” May whispered to North, sliding her hand down his chest. “You know you want to.”
North caught her hand. “Not even when you were alive,” he said and held her as she jerked away. “I want Andie back. Now.”
Oh, thank God!
Andie could feel May’s grip loosen more from the shock. He knows, Andie taunted her, trying to find her way back. He knows you’re not me. He doesn’t love you—May’s grip loosened more—He’ll never love you—Almost, almost—He loves me!
“North, are you crazy?” May said, fighting back. “This is me. This is Andie. I love you!”
“You don’t know a damn thing about love,” North said, colder than Andie had ever seen him.
“I could learn,” May said, pressing against him now. “You could teach me. I could love you—”
He loves me, Andie whispered inside May’s head. He loves me. It’s me he wants to kiss good night.
“You’re not my wife,” North said, gripping her harder.
“It’s her body,” May was saying desperately. “It’s all you need. I’m more fun. I have her body—”
“You’re not her,” North said, his face grim as he held her, “and I will send you to hell to get her back.”
May tried to yank away, and Andie felt the cold grow again. “Well, you can’t. There’s nothing you can do. I’m Andie—”
“You’re Aunt May,” Carter said from behind them, and North turned so that Andie could see him coming toward them, his lighter in his hand, Alice crying behind him.
“I’m sorry, Andie,” Alice said. “I’m sorry.”
Look what you’re doing to Alice! Andie said, trying to find whatever humanity was left in May.
Carter’s face was stolid. “She made us hide a piece of her hair in Alice’s Walkman before we burned the rest of it.”
Look what you’re doing to Carter!
“Shut up!” May screamed.
“I’m sorry,” Alice cried. “Andie, Andie, I’m sorry.”
You’re torturing Alice, Andie whispered to May.
“I’m Andie,” May said, desperate now. “I’m Andie.”
“You promised,” Alice sobbed. “You promised you wouldn’t do this, you promised!”
She doesn’t love you, Andie whispered. You betrayed her, you lost her love, you’ve lost everything now. Nobody loves you, you’re a monster, nobody loves you—
“No!” May said, but she was weakening, Andie could feel warmth again, and color flickered in front of her now.
North said to Carter, “What do we have to do?” and Carter held out his hand to Alice.
Alice hesitated, then put her Walkman on the table and unsnapped the blue leatheret
te cover.
“No,” May said, lunging for it, but North held her, and Andie took back more of herself as they struggled, surrounded by people who loved her.
They love me, she whispered. They want me. Who do you love? Nobody. Who kisses you good night? NOBODY.
“Carter.” May reached for him, but North grabbed her arm. “Carter, please, I deserve to have this. I love you.”
“So does Andie,” he said, cold as ice. “And she’s alive. Let go. Or . . .” He clicked his lighter and the flame spurted high.
“No!” May said.
“Do it,” North said to Carter, and Carter took the curl, and May screamed, “NO!” and slammed her elbow into North’s stomach, shoving him back, falling as she ripped the lighter from Carter’s hand. Carter caught her, held her, wrapping his arms around Andie’s body and saying, “Andie! Andie!” as May struggled to reach the curl. Andie held on to the sound of Carter’s voice, and clawed her way back into her body, fighting May now with everything she had, and then she saw Alice holding the curl, weeping, little Alice, tears streaming down her face as she looked at them, and then Carter said, “There!” nodding at the lighter, and she picked it up from the floor, and flicked it open, and the flame shot up.
“Alice, no!” May howled, like the cry of a creature hurled over an abyss, and then Alice put the curl into the flame and held it while it seared her fingers, staring at Andie, and Andie felt the flame everywhere, blue and red, and then she was back in her body, clinging to Carter as the world swung around, and she screamed at May, “Go toward the light, damn it!” and May cried out, “There is no light!”
And then May was gone, heat rushing back, color and sound, and Andie was free again.
“Andie?” Carter said, and she put her head on his shoulder, exhausted and dispossessed, and said, “It’s me,” and saw North boosting Alice up on the counter and running cold water over her burned fingers.
“Andie?” Alice said, her voice full of tears.
“You saved me,” Andie said to her, her voice shaky as she held on to Carter and fought the nausea that was swamping her. “You and Carter. You were so brave, and you saved me.”
“She’s gone,” Carter said stolidly. “Right?”
“Yes,” Andie said. “It’s over.” She took a deep breath. “And now I’m going to throw up.”
She shoved herself up off the floor and bolted for the powder room, and behind her she heard North say, “Good job, Carter,” while he cooled the burn on Alice’s fingers.
After throwing up everything she’d eaten all day and then standing under a hot shower in the attic bathroom for twenty minutes, Andie pulled herself together, toweled off, brushed her teeth, put on her pajamas, and came out to face North who was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her in the quiet night.
“You okay?”
“I will be.” She went over and sat down beside him, and he put his arm around her.
“Well, the good news is, now I believe in ghosts.”
“You knew it wasn’t me,” she said, and felt the tears press against the back of her eyes again.
“Of course I knew,” he said, sounding insulted. “I asked the questions just to make sure, but I could see it wasn’t you from your eyes. It was obvious.”
“She looked just like me. She was me.”
He moved his arm against her neck and pulled her over to him and kissed her on the top of the head. “She wasn’t anything like you. Should we get you a doctor? Did she strain your heart?”
Andie looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “Whatever she did to my heart, you fixed it.”
“You sure?”
“I’m positive,” Andie said, and he kissed her again, solid and sure, and she thought, He knows me, and kissed him back.
“Get into bed,” he said finally. “You need rest.”
“I need you,” she told him. “But I need to see Alice and Carter first.”
“I talked to them. I told them what they did was brave and that they saved you.” He tightened his arms around her. “They really are amazing kids.”
“You have no idea,” Andie said.
“Well, I’m going to. I’ll have years with them to find out.” He stood up. “Want me to go with you?”
Andie shook her head and stood up, too. “I’ll just be a minute. Don’t wait up. Make the bed warm for me.” She tried a smile, and he bent and kissed her again, and she thought, Oh, thank God, he knows me, and then she went downstairs to the kids’ rooms.
“Carter?” she said, knocking softly on his door, and he said, “Come in.”
He was sitting on his bed, holding his bandaged hand, looking exhausted, but finally at peace.
“That was really brave,” she began, and he shook his head.
“I should have stopped it.” He sounded older, serious, and Andie got a glimpse of the adult he’d become. “I knew she wasn’t gone, but—”
“She was your aunt,” Andie said, coming to sit on the side of his bed. “She was the last family you had left.”
“She was dead,” Carter said. “And she wasn’t the last. We have you. And North.” He tried to make the last two words casual, but there was respect there.
“Yes, you do,” Andie said, vowing not to cry. “And Southie.”
“And Lydia,” Carter said, not sounding as sure, and Andie laughed and then he did, too. “No, she’s cool.”
“She’s a good person to have on your side,” Andie said. “Like you’re a good person to have on mine. I’ll never forget this, Carter.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Never. Now go to sleep. You’re starting school next week.”
“Already?” he said, appalled, and she laughed again and ruffled his hair and made him duck away.
“Sleep tight,” she said, and went to talk to Alice.
Alice’s room was empty.
Andie felt a clutch of panic and then got a grip. Alice would not run away, Alice would not leave the house, Alice would never leave Carter, Alice—
She heard voices from below and went to the head of the stairs. There was light in the hallway, as if from another room, and she went down to the ground floor and into the law office’s reception room.
She’s in the office, Dennis said.
“Did she tell you—”
About May? Yes. Sorry, I never saw her. I was in the van with North and Carter. She must have been in the car with you. And then she didn’t come in here—
“She wasn’t stupid. What’s Alice doing?”
Talking to Merry.
“Who the hell is Merry?”
I don’t know. They’re in the office. I’m stuck to the couch, remember?
“Right.” Andie went to the door of North’s office, trying not to panic. She was really too damn tired to panic.
Alice was sitting in the chair across from North’s desk, talking to North’s desk chair. “I’m not going to remember all of that,” she said. “I’m eight.”
“Remember what?” Andie said, and Alice turned around and smiled, all her tension gone, and Andie thought, She’s all right, she smiled.
“Merry has a lot of stuff he wants me to tell Bad.”
“Merry who?” Andie said, keeping a wary eye on the empty desk chair. “Nobody named Merry . . .”
Something moved in the desk chair and she saw, in flickers, the patterned waistcoat, the cigar, and heard a fat under-the-breath laugh that she hadn’t heard in over ten years. “Uncle Merrill?”
Alice looked across the desk and then back at Andie. “He says you’re looking good, Andie.”
Andie looked at the desk chair, trying to organize the shifting shadows there. “You’ve been there for ten years?”
Alice listened and nodded. “He has a lot of stuff he wants to say.”
“Yeah, well, North has a few things he’d like to say to you, too. And also, I know about Southie. What the hell were you thinking?”
Alice listened and then said, “He says not to be such a prune. Why are you a prune?
”
“Prude,” Andie said. “Merrill, you should meet Dennis, he’s out in Reception. I doubt if you’ll bond, he’s a good guy, but later on, I’ll kill a deck of cards and you can play gin. Don’t cheat. For now, Alice goes to bed.”
Alice got up. “It was very nice meeting you, Merry,” she said, and then walked over and took Andie’s hand. “I’m very sorry,” she said, looking up at Andie, but she seemed confident now that she was loved.
“You did the right thing,” Andie said, knowing she meant May. “And it’s okay now. From now on everything’s going to be . . .” She looked back at North’s desk chair that was swiveling gently, and then in the other direction, into Reception at Dennis’s couch. “. . . normal.”
“That’s good,” Alice said and went up the stairs with her, and when Andie tucked her into bed, she said, “I like this room. Can I draw on the walls?”
“You’ll have to negotiate that with Lydia.”
“Oh, hell,” Alice said and scooted under the covers with Rose Bunny.
Two minutes later, Andie crawled into North’s warm bed and sighed in relief.
North slid his arm under her shoulders and pulled her closer. “Everything okay?”
“Everything is perfect,” she said, cuddling against him. “Well, almost. Your uncle Merrill has been haunting your office for ten years.”
“Joke?”
“No, for real. I can’t see him, but Alice can. He has a lot to tell you, Alice says.”
“Yeah, well, I have a lot to tell that old bastard, too,” North said. “I suppose this means he’s been watching everything I’ve done since he died.”
“Including all the sex we had on that desk. Knowing Merrill, he’ll probably be critiquing your style and my thighs.”
“There is nothing wrong with my style,” North said, running his hand down her side. When he reached her hip, he said, “And there’s definitely nothing wrong with your thighs.”
She laughed and he kissed her, and she thought, Thank God I found my way back to him, and then he held her tighter, and she said, “North?”
“I didn’t have a damn clue how to save you,” he said. “If the kids hadn’t been here, she could have—”