I leaned my head against the window. “Yeah.” I knew it was a minor setback, but it felt much larger.
Chapter 10
“I didn’t realize how much hope I’d pinned on that meeting until it didn’t go well,” I complained to Vovó as I sat on her bed. I had just explained our less than stellar interview with Modesto.
“We don’t have any more leads. After you’ve done all that you can, you’re supposed to have the answers you need.”
“It would be wonderful if that were true, but that isn’t how life works.” Vovó gave my cheek a loving tap. “Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we fail.”
“But I can’t fail, or Crosby wins and Brent—”
My voice cut off. I couldn’t say the words “Brent will die.” As close as we had been in high school, our time in Brazil had brought us even closer. I couldn’t fathom a life without him. He was so much a part of me, it’d be like pulling out an essential line of thread in a tapestry; yank it out, and the whole thing unravels.
“I wish I could promise you Brent will get better, but I can’t. People die, Yara. They struggle through illness, through rounds of surgery and medicine, and they still die.”
“But he can’t! There’s a cure! Kevin said there’s a cure! I just don’t know where else to look, Vovó.” I took a shuddering breath and balled my hands into fists. “What’s the point of being a Waker if I can’t help the people I love?”
Vovó gathered me in her arms and stroked my hair. “Yara, being a Waker isn’t about keeping the people you love alive. It’s about helping the dead find peace. If Brent dies, you might have to help his soul cross over into the light. Are you strong enough for that?”
Was I?
Frustration, anger, and helplessness broke free in the form of tears flowing down my cheeks. Vovó handed me a box of tissues from her nightstand. I was having a complete meltdown, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t fall apart like this when Brent was around. He’d just barely gained a firm desire to fight against his fate and hang on until we could find a permanent cure, and if I broke down in front of him, it might send him back to that hopeless place. I always needed to stay strong, to remain optimistic.
But I’d been strong for four years now, and my strength was spent.
I had nothing left to give. I’d failed Brent, not because I hadn’t tried hard enough, but because I had reached my limit. I had exhausted all of my resources. The thought terrified me and the tears flowed harder, sobs racking my body.
“Don’t give up hope, Querida,” Vovó said, pressing a kiss into my hair. “You fight until the end. I have lived long enough to know that even when the path before you is dark and you can’t see the way, you must still walk it. If your path is blocked, you create a new one.”
“Create a new one how? Where? What direction am I supposed to go in now? I don’t know what to do. And I’m so tired, Vovó. I’m so, so tired.”
“If you can’t see the next step, then you wait until you can. And you rest while you wait. You gather your strength and then you start again.”
“But if I do that, time will run out and Brent will be dead.”
“That’s one possibility,” Vovó admitted.
Another painful stab shot through my heart and I sobbed again as my worst fears were confirmed.
“But Yara, the thing you need to learn about life is this: no matter what happens, this situation will pass. The dust will settle and you will find a way to handle what has happened. There is no magic solution, just strength, fighting, and a refusal to give up.”
She held me while I wiped a new tissue across my face. “That sounds hard.”
“It is. As Wakers we see death more than most. And we must be brave in the face of it. Strong. When our loved ones leave, we need to let them go. Are you strong enough to let Brent’s spirit go? To help him into the light?”
Deep in my heart I knew my answer. “Yes, I love him too much to let him be stuck here.”
Vovó smiled. “I was tempted to keep your grandfather’s spirit with me when he died. But in the end, I loved him enough to help him find peace.”
Vovó turned me around to face her and took both my hands in hers. “I know you only see me as a Waker, but I have also had to focus on other things. I had a husband and a family and hobbies that didn’t involve ghosts. The Waker world demands much of your attention, but you’re still you, Yara. And you need to find a way to live the life you intended before your Waker abilities manifested themselves.”
I wanted to rub my eyes to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on my, that the person talking to me was actually my grandma. “I’ve never heard you say anything like that before.”
“That’s because I was trying to get you to embrace being a Waker. It’s a part of you as much as being a nurse, a girlfriend, a daughter, or a friend. When you reach a point like this, when you’ve done all you can do, you need to let the Waker side rest while you focus on the other aspects of your life.”
“What else can possibly matter right now?”
“You can spend time with Brent that doesn’t involve his illness, and you can be happy for your friend getting married.”
I closed my eyes. In all of my concern over Brent, Cherie’s engagement had taken a back seat. We hardly talked about it because we’d been so busy doing research. She’d been wonderful enough not to complain, but Vovó was right. I couldn’t let my friendship with Cherie suffer because of Crosby or Brent’s health.
And I hadn’t spent much time with my parents either. I couldn’t let circumstances take away the joy in my life. I still needed to live.
“Cherie mentioned wanting to look at wedding dresses in Los Angeles,” I said. “I know she wants me to go with her.”
“That sounds fun.” Vovó patted my arm. “I know it won’t be easy, but it will be good for you both.”
No, it wouldn’t be easy.
Cherie was planning an entire future with the man she loved, and I might never get the same chance. At this moment, I would have traded everything I had to be in Cherie’s place. No matter how excited I was for her, watching her plan the wedding would hurt.
Part of me would be jealous. I hated it, but it was the truth. But how many times had Cherie stood by me without complaint as I projected or went about Waker business, something she envied, but would never be able to do? It was time to return the favor.
My phone chirped at me from the other side of my room. I pushed away from the desk and ran to get it. I grimaced when I stepped on my purse and felt something inside it give way. Ignoring the phone, I opened it and groaned at the mess. My hand lotion had exploded, as had one of the many baggies of what Cherie called “ghost-be-gone” powder that I kept it in every compartment of my purse, leaving a goopy mixture. Perfect. Now I had to replace both. And probably the purse, as well.
I scooped out the ruined items and they mixed together on my hands. The scented lotion glittered with granules of salt and other ingredients of the powder.
A crazy idea came to me and I rubbed the combination over my arm. It glided on like normal and I wondered if the powder would still work.
“That’s a good idea. Let’s try it out.” DJ appeared behind me but it didn’t surprise me. Since becoming linked to me, I sort of knew when he was near. His fingers tentatively touched my skin before he pulled them back. “Ow! That stings. Not enough to make me vanish, but it hurts.”
With a grin, I opened one of the cupboards and found a half empty bottle of lotion, and dumped a baggie of the powder into it. After shaking them together, I squirted some onto my hand and asked DJ to try it out again.
He frowned at me. “Sure, I’ve got nothing better to do in my afterlife than try injuring myself,” he grumbled.
Closing his eyes, he reached out and poked me with one finger. “It works!” he said, swearing and shaking his hand.
I ran upstairs to find Vovó, clutching my creation tight.
“I had an idea today.” I explained to her about the
lotion and what DJ and I had found.
“Very creative and very handy.” She clapped her hands. “You’ve found something that will help other Wakers.”
I kissed her cheek. “I’m happy you’re proud, but this won’t help most Wakers, Vovó. It’ll protect me and Kalina, but most of you don’t have to worry about ghosts touching you.”
She clucked her tongue. “You know there are other Returned out there. I’m happy you found a way to protect yourself.”
“Yeah. I’ll wear this from now on, but I’m still going to keep the powder.” I put the lid on the lotion. “Just in case.”
“Someday, you’ll be able to order them not to touch you the same way I do,” Vovó said with a touch of pride.
“Um, while we’re on the subject, Kalina said something I wanted to ask you about.” I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans. “She said Kathryn can compel her because she’s a Returned. Does that mean you could use it on me?”
Vovó let out a puff of air. “I could. When I told you I couldn’t compel Wakers I believed it. But later I wondered if it would be different with you, being a Returned. I tried small things to test the theory. When I saw the power I could wield over you I made myself be very careful when instructing you.”
“So Kathryn, could compel me?”
“Any Matriarca could, but the higher she is in the hierarchy, the stronger her influence would be over you. If she’s head of your line, it’s even stronger. So keep your distance, at least until you take over for me. It’s one of the reasons we haven’t been to see them again since our first visit.”
“No problem there, I don’t want to see her anyway.” I touched Vovó’s lined face. “Thank you, for not abusing that power.”
“No one should, Yara. Of all the lessons I could teach you, the most important is to use your abilities responsibly. You are the future, Yara, and seeing the purity of your heart gives me great hope.”
Her words hit me like an anvil to the head. I hoped I could be the leader my family line needed, but feared I never would.
The next morning, Cherie and I headed to Los Angeles to check out wedding dresses. Cherie had made an appointment at an exclusive store as soon as I agreed to go. DJ and Brent were doing more sleuthing today while I spent the day with my best friend.
“I can’t believe I get to go in here,” Cherie said as we got out of the car and shut the doors behind us. “I’ve been wanting to shop here since the moment Steve proposed.”
“Oh, I know. I saw your gushing online status.”
Cherie beamed as she twined her arm through mine and led me inside.
The store was already crowded with excited brides trying on dresses. Cherie bounced on her toes as she checked in with the receptionist. Youse, our consultant, wore her thick, ebony hair in a waterfall braid, and dressed head to toe in black. Balancing effortlessly on four-inch heels, she guided us to a consultation area where we sat on damask-covered wing chairs in front of a dais with tri-fold mirrors, and sipped strawberry ice water.
“So, what style wedding are you imagining?” Youse asked.
Cherie pulled out pictures she’d been collecting.
“Our ceremony will be on the Queen Mary, so I’m looking for a dress that matches the feel of the décor and time period of the ship,” she said, gesturing to the pile of art deco-esque photos.
“Do you want something that blends the style with a more contemporary design? Or would you prefer something vintage?”
Cherie’s eyes lit up. “Do you have anything vintage?”
“We have a few.” Youse studied the pictures again, then smiled. “There’s one from the nineteen-thirties that may be perfect.”
Cherie clapped her hands together. “Can I see it?”
“Absolutely.” Youse handed Cherie back the pictures and stood. “I’ll be right back.”
Within minutes she returned carrying a garment bag, which she carefully opened.
The satin material, though ivory in color, reflected the light in a silvery shimmer. Intricate beading ran from each sleeveless shoulder, crossing below the v-neck and sweeping over the hips before trailing down the back of the dress and ending in triangular points on each side of the short train. The slinky silhouette would look fantastic on Cherie.
“It’s amazing,” Cherie said, moving closer to the dress. “It’s everything I wanted.”
Youse smiled. “Do you want to try it on?”
“Yes, please.”
Cherie followed Youse to the dressing rooms. While waiting, I noticed a section of bridesmaid dresses and wandered over to search through the racks. My eye caught on one in a light gunmetal gray with similar beading to Cherie’s.
Before I could ask to try it on, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge and the room temperature plummeted. I shuddered. With a muttered complaint about ghosts not giving me the day off, I wheeled around, prepared to confront Grady.
But it wasn’t Grady or any of Crosby’s other goons. Instead, a teenage girl with big blonde curls and downcast eyes wrung her hands together in distress.
“Can you help me?” she asked, still not making eye contact.
I smiled and spoke quietly. “I can try.”
“I need you to come with me,” she said, turning around and gliding toward the exit. I stumbled a bit as I hurried past the reception desk.
“Wait! Where are we going?”
“Down the street. There are these . . . Come with me.” Her hands twisted even harder.
I steeled myself for the bracing cold that would come when I touched her hand, and spun her around just before she reached the doors. She flinched and jerked her gaze up to mine. Her blue eyes flashed from dark to light, and I took a step back.
“You’re being compelled.”
“Come with me,” she begged.
“No.” I dipped my hand into my purse and gathered a handful of my ghost-be-gone even though I’d applied the lotion earlier.
This poor girl. She may have died a long time ago or been one of Crosby’s recent victims, but either way, she needed my help. There wasn’t much I could do for her to fight the compulsion when I didn’t know anything about her, but I couldn’t go with her. That left me no choice. Feeling like I was euthanizing an injured animal, I blew the powder from my hand onto the spirit.
“I’m sorry,” I said, struggling to ignore the guilt that beat in my chest.
A howl of pain ripped through the air as her image rippled away. I glanced around, checking for other ghosts, but found none. With a deep breath, I straightened my purse and headed back to the bridesmaid dresses on shaky legs.
I slumped back into a chair, nauseated. That ghost hadn’t stumbled upon me in a chance encounter. She had been sent as bait to draw me straight into an ambush.
What had the girl said again?
“There are some….”
No doubt the rest of the sentence went along the lines of, “Some scary men who want to kill you.” No wonder she had cut the sentence off.
How had Crosby known I’d be here? Was he stalking me? No one knew my plans for today…
I groaned. No one except Cherie and all of her online friends. I sunk lower into my chair.
“Yara, what do you think?” Cherie asked, gesturing to herself.
Cherie stood in front of the mirror twisting to catch every angle of her reflection.
One look at my radiant friend and my worries faded away, replaced by a flood of happiness. She looked perfect in the dress, and judging from her watering eyes, she knew it. This was the dress.
“You look absolutely beautiful.” I stood and walked around her. “You look like Grace Kelly. Somebody’s going to have to pick Steve off the floor when you walk down the aisle.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Without a doubt,” I said.
Careful of her dress I pulled her into a hug. A tear escaped from her eye and a matching one trailed down my cheek.
“You’re going to be a beautiful bride,” I w
hispered.
Cherie’s eyes teared up a little more. “I’m getting married.”
In that moment, her engagement became very real to me, like the world that had been fuzzy now snapped into focus. We weren’t little girls playing dress up anymore; this was real. Somewhere along the way, when I hadn’t been paying attention, we’d grown up. Cherie was on the cusp of starting a new chapter of her life. I so hoped I’d have the same opportunity someday.
I looked away as emotion tightened my throat.
Youse handed us tissues and helped Cherie pick out a long veil and a string of pearls that pulled the whole vintage look together. Cherie placed it all on hold, knowing her mom would want to approve it first.
By the time that was done we were starving, and we made our way to a fifties-style diner around the corner and ordered some lunch. Vintage movie posters decorated the walls, advertising films from Hollywood’s golden years.
While I waited for my burger and onion rings, Cherie leaned forward. “Are you going to tell me what happened while I was in the dressing room?”
I gave her a rueful smile. “I sometimes forget how observant you can be.”
“I know. I’m awesome.” Cherie buffed her nails on the sleeve of her shirt. “Now spill.”
I folded my arms on the table and told her about the girl.
“I’m glad you noticed her eyes.” Cherie batted the saltshaker between her hands. “Have you ever heard of something like that happening before?”
“A ghost luring people away?” I shook my head. “Only in the movies.”
“It seems like all the rules have been changing lately,” Cherie mumbled.
I sighed. “I just hope I’ve learned enough to keep up.”
“You have,” Cherie said, a confident smile on her face.
I wasn’t feeling as sure, but I decided not to argue. With the thrill of her engagement and her successful dress shopping, I couldn’t help but feel she was seeing the world through rose-colored glasses, a luxury I didn’t have.