by Alexie Aaron
“I’m uncomfortable with talking about slaves,” Mia admitted.
“Slavery was bad. We have to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“That’s why we have hero complexes.”
Murphy laughed.
The sun was moving below the tree line by the time they reached the farm.
“I think you should spend the night in the barn. I can protect you there. In the house…”
“I remember that Chastity is there. The barn will be fine.”
“The last people who fled the farm left some camping gear. I think there are a few sleeping bags…” Murphy said and disappeared.
Mia was left alone to walk the drive up from the road. Memories flooded her senses from the first time she met Murphy to guiding Mike and Burt to the farm when it was owned by April. Mia passed the icehouse where Ted had helped her build a marble mausoleum over Murphy’s bones. Mia’s eyes watered. “I wonder where they all are now?” she said. She imagined Ted’s and Cid’s heads poised over school books studying. Mike would be on the farm doing chores, but Burt was a mystery.
During their brief time as a couple, Burt and she were good together. They had their disagreements, but physically, they were an amazing match. “Yikes, a twelve-year-old has no business thinking of such things,” she scolded herself. She still felt a connection with Burt. She could see that Burt had suffered as much as she had in their quests to rest the lost souls, free the hostage homeowners, and work with a crew of strange individuals.
“Mia!” Murphy called. “Come, I found the camping gear.”
Mia sniffed, turned, and trudged up the remainder of the incline. Murphy had pulled the door open a crack. Mia took off her pack and held it beside her as she squeezed in.
“Careful, there are some rotted floorboards,” Murphy said, taking her pack from her.
“I had forgotten that you had a cellar here,” Mia said, looking around. “You really built a magnificent structure.”
“It’s not as pretty as the little barn Cid built for me,” Murphy said.
Mia thought about the little red barn tucked into the hillside on the other side of the aerie and smiled. “It’s pretty, but it won’t last as long as this one has.”
“Time will tell,” Murphy said. “I need help putting up the tent. I figured you’d want a spider-free cover over your head.”
“How considerate,” Mia said. “I think I could survive for one night.”
“Who are you kidding?”
Mia nodded. “K. We better get started. We’re losing light.”
The two of them worked out the mystery of erecting a 1960’s era Boy Scout tent together. The inside, although dry, smelled funky. Mia knew Murphy couldn’t smell, so she didn’t address the problem. She just wrinkled her nose and started to unpack her stuff. Murphy had found two sleeping bags. She spread one out on the canvas floor, and the other she would sleep in. She excused herself to use the toilet in the house.
Murphy handed her a key. “Back door. In and out quickly or you’ll have to explain things to Chastity.”
“When was the last time you spoke to her?”
“In this timeline? When the tree fell. I asked her why. I didn’t like the answer.”
Mia turned on her flashlight and walked out of the barn. Dusk had fallen, and it was dark and quiet. Almost too quiet. She knew it was because the fauna didn’t enjoy the presence of the ghosts of the farm and the hag in the hollow. There were a few crickets looking for mates, but beyond that, Mia heard nothing but the wind in the trees.
She entered the house and moved quietly across the peeling linoleum floor. The bathroom was tucked under the stairs, and she made quick use of it. She knew the minute she flushed, if Chastity was about, she would come up from the cellar. Mia was in no mood to deal with that bitch. The closer she got to Murphy, the more she hated Chastity. Mia flushed and fled.
Murphy waited outside for Mia. He couldn’t get over how small and fragile she looked. But under that skin was grit that would carry them through the toughest battles. He admired her pluck. Her language as a teenager was embarrassing. He envisioned his mother turning in her grave each time Mia dropped what Cid and Ted called the F-bomb. But the Mia after the children were born was different. She still would drop an F-bomb occasionally, but the circumstances needed to be dire.
Mia launched herself out the back door. She stopped and forced herself to lock it. The window of the door filled with the white film of a spirit. Mia tried to avert her eyes, but she knew she had to face what was standing there.
Chastity Murphy would forever be a beautiful woman. Her brown hair and black eyes appeared dull in death. Her skin was waxy, and her expression was one of annoyance. She stared at the child Mia, and Mia, the adult held hostage in the small body, stared back.
Mia mouthed the word bitch.
Chastity didn’t know why this child would call her a female dog, but it still was rude. She reached through the glass at Mia.
Mia stumbled backwards into the steadying hands of Murphy.
Chastity looked at her husband. He was protecting this child, why? She shook her head and disappeared.
“Phew, that was a close one. Tell me, was she always so stern?” Mia asked.
“No. My mother, now, she was a pillar of salt when she didn’t want to discuss anything. She would stand there and stare frozen-like until I went away. Maybe Chastity learned that from my mother.”
“I’m hungry. Let’s see if my groceries survived the walk home.”
“Home?” Murphy asked. “You think of this old place as home?”
Mia looked around and then looked at Murphy. “I will always think of this place as home. As long as you’re here, I know I’m home.”
“You confuse me when you talk this way, Mia,” Murphy complained.
“I’m sorry. But we are a screwed-up kind of family. From a distance, people would think we’re father and daughter.”
“That makes this so much creepier,” Murphy complained.
“K, drop that. You’re my family every bit as much as Cid is.”
“Better.”
“There is a saying that you can’t choose your family, but I think I have. Every member of PEEPs are my family. Your dead father Kevin and Fergus are part of my extended family. At the age I am now, the only family I had were Charles, Amanda, Ralph, and Bernard. Now I have friends whom I love, whom I know love me back. They have seen me through some embarrassing encounters and trying times.”
“But you have seen them through the same. You and I fight, but I never doubted we would still be friends until the GSD.”
“That was hard on both of us. But hey, we beat it. We’re still friends.”
“Mia, when you die, are you going into the light?”
“I fear that I’m headed into Purgatory. I don’t see that I’m going to be able to slip out of Roumain’s hands. Wait, that sounded worse than… No, I think that’s what it’s going to be like… Nevermind, where was I?”
“What if you stayed here with me?” Murphy asked.
“What if I turned out to be a zombie ghost like we’ve seen? What if I have no emotions and can’t feel?”
“I’ll still care for you. Remember when we were discussing the movie The Ghost and Mrs. Muir?”
“Yes, you said that relationship was highly improbable.”
“He waited for her. I would wait for you.”
Mia pushed her promise to Ted to join him on the Starship Enterprise – his idea of Heaven – to the back of her mind. She also knew that Michael would do anything to keep his healer. But what did she want?
“I don’t think it’s improbable,” Mia said. “Once I’m dead, when the rules are different, I don’t see why I can’t spend part of my eternity with you.”
“But not all?” Murphy asked, disappointed.
“I have made promises, some of them foolish, some of them not,” Mia explained. “Maybe the universe will be kind.”
“I think I understand. I
did notice that you didn’t ask me to leave my trees and go into the light with you.”
“I know better,” Mia said. “We both seem to have conditions to our eternities. Let’s speak of this again when things change.”
Murphy smiled wide. His face lit up to his eyes. Mia never remembered seeing him this animated before. “Until then, we are friends.”
“Yes, best friends,” Mia said.
Mia’s dinner of peanut butter sandwiches and milk filled her. She made up the rest of the bread into sandwiches and twisted the bread wrapper closed and secured it tightly. She was exhausted from all the activity. She opened up the flap of the old tent slowly, preparing herself for the funky odor. She was surprised by the scent of lilac. Mia crawled in to see that Murphy had placed four mason jars full of lilacs in each corner of the tent.
“How did he know?” she said to herself.
“Your face gave you away,” Murphy said, materializing beside her. “You had the same expression as when you changed Varden’s poopy diapers.”
“I didn’t realize I did that. I hope I don’t give the kid a complex.”
“The boy is going to have wings; I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t have one already.”
“Varden is my snuggle bunny. Brian grew up too fast. But every now and then, he climbs in my lap and hugs me.”
“They are great boys. Are you going to have more children?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you have more children?” Murphy asked.
“If I make it back to the right time I can, but I don’t know if I want any more.”
“Why?” Murphy asked.
“Oh, I have my reasons, some of them are sane and reasonable.”
“For example…” Murphy led.
“Sane ones first. I’ve got my hands full. I still want to be a PEEP, but I don’t think I can spend as much time away now that I have two little kids and a teenager. Adding another baby into the mix isn’t responsible. I also have a new gene, courtesy of Raphael and Lazar. It’s the crone gene. If I have a daughter, she will have witch abilities. I haven’t done my homework on that yet, so I’d better not have a child until I do. Now for the unreasonable ones. I don’t want to stretch my body all out of shape again. I may have to fight for my family, and it’s damn hard carrying a baby. Look what happened while I was carrying Varden. I almost cut my leg off.”
“That was very brave,” Murphy said. “There’s more. I can see it behind your eyes.”
“Abigor said something to me that I hear every time I think about having a baby.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No.”
“Tell me.”
“Promise not to tell Ted or Cid or anyone?”
“I promise.”
“He said, ‘Give me permission, and I shall put a beautiful daughter in your belly.’”
“What did you do?”
“I declined and later found out it was just a line to get me into bed with him. Which never happened. But still…”
“I can’t give you children.”
“You’re dead, of course not.”
“I mean before, I couldn’t give Chastity a child. I had the mumps as an adult. It left me sterile.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mia said.
“Turns out, I wouldn’t have been around long enough to get to know them, to teach them all I know, or to provide for them.”
“Is that why you’re so hard on Brian?”
“Maybe.”
“If I blow this, I don’t want to have any children,” Mia announced.
“Of course not, you’re twelve.”
“I mean when I grow up again. The reality will be different because it’s impossible to recreate it right down to the point when Roumain interfered and I conceived Brian. Varden is Varden because a very valuable birdman died. I can’t see me sending that man to his death again. And so, I fear that there will be no Brian or Varden.”
“What about your daughter, the little girl you conceived when you cared for the man in the orchard? I’ll fight the ghost that killed him to save you both.”
“I know you would, but you see, if I had to do things again, I would stop all the horrible things from happening. I knew it the minute I saw Yann standing there. I couldn’t let him die if I could stop it from happening again. I’ll go to Washington and make sure that the wildfire never happens, and Neil would never have to be bedridden. There would be no baby because there wouldn’t be a relationship between Neil and me. We would never meet. I can’t predict what will happen in my new timeline. This is why it’s so important to fix this.”
“But Mia, Ted would end up with Beth. Beth the witch.”
“But would she become a witch if not for me?” Mia asked. “How much of her life did I mess up?”
“She wasn’t right from the beginning,” Murphy assured her. He lay back and sighed.
Mia looked over at the ghost. What will you do if we can’t fix this?”
“I’m staying with you.”
“I’m a child.”
“I’ll watch over you until you die,” he said matter-of-factly. “Then if you choose, we will be together for our eternity.”
“We wouldn’t have to come back here. There are grand trees on the west coast.”
“Whatever you wish, Mia.”
Mia fell asleep with those words in her head.
Chapter Nine
Dawn broke on a clear day, but by the time Mia was washed – courtesy of the ice-cold stream on Murphy’s property - and dressed, the clouds had rolled in. She and Murphy hurried to the hill and stood there, as promised, and waited for Wyatt’s transportation.
“I hope it’s not a damn airplane,” Murphy complained. “Those metal birds aren’t natural.”
“It could be a helicopter,” Mia said. “I’m not sure that’s much better for you.”
“Ugly humming birds,” Murphy said, kicking a dirt clod.
The wind picked up. Mia looked around and saw the loose leaves circling them. “Oh shit! I forgot! Murphy, stand close and hold on to me. Wyatt is sending a cyclone.”
Murphy grabbed Mia as she started to rise off the ground. The two of them clung to the other as the whirlwind tightened and spun faster as it lifted into the air and disappeared.
Wyatt walked in from the veranda. Nordin was waiting with his coffee. He took the cup and drank down the bitter brew before speaking. “That should do it. Two minutes tops, and they will arrive somewhere near Wichita Kansas.”
“I wish them luck,” Nordin said. “It turns out to be a good move. There is a rather ominous looking crow sitting and staring at the house from the top of the cell tower.”
“We may want to lure the spies in the wrong direction. I’m thinking a trip to NOLA.”
“It’s rather busy down there. Lots of people in masks if memory serves me,” Nordin agreed.
“Most people call it Mardi Gras, but unfortunately, we’re too late for Mardi Gras. But we’re right on time for spring break. Drunk college kids in masks should be enough distraction for the birds,” Wyatt said.
Nicholai and Angelo entered the Coopers’ brownstone to find it empty. They moved through the house, meticulously searching for anything that would identify the soul jumper who had taken the body of the young woman. They found an appalling amount of frozen meals and cartons of cigarettes. The bookshelves contained academic journals and old moldy books on various tribes in North and South America.
“There’s nothing here that proves the existence that a child lives here. Did we get the right house?” Nicholai called.
“I hit pay dirt. Come upstairs. Mind the ghost,” Angelo said, looking at the shaking woman in the corner of the room.
Nicholai didn’t know much about young American women’s habits, but this bleak drafty room with the ancient wallpaper wouldn’t be the place a daughter of his would live. There were some attempts at decorating, although it must have been years ago. Unicorns didn’t seem the go-to for a tw
elve-year-old. “Who’s the ghost?”
“She doesn’t know. She says the girl calls her Misty. Misty is close to the fraying point. We could end her torment now.”
“Angelo, we only have permission for a recon of this home. We’re supposed to be looking for proof of a soul jumper.”
“But this ghost is in pain. Look at her.”
“Meeeeeeah,” the ghost moaned.
“I think she’s more frightened of us than in pain.”
Angelo pulled open the drawers on the old desk. Inside, he found packets of school pictures going back to kindergarten. He looked at the child. She really was pretty. Her big moss-green eyes dominated her face. Her clothing wasn’t quite right. Didn’t American mothers fuss over their children on picture day? “There is only one picture gone out of each of these packets, except the last one and all of them are gone. I thought children traded them, gave pictures to grandparents?”
Angelo pulled out another drawer where he found birthday and Christmas cards. They were all signed by the same two people. “Ralph and Bernard.”
“I’m beginning to think your soul jumper theory to be solid. This child is basically forgotten. No one but this Ralph and Bernard would notice a change in her.”
“I knew that if I had found my marker in the mind of a child it had to have been there because I visited the mind before. I know every child I’ve helped. I’ve run across a few soul jumpers in my travels, so I put one and one together…”
“Don’t crow yet,” Nicholai said, flipping the pictures on the wall around. “I have found evidence of a normal girl.”
On the back of the frames of the cheap oil paintings were newspaper clippings of the local middle school’s sports teams. One name was circled again and again, Whitney Martin. Nicholai studied the team picture and one of the Big Bear Lake Post’s pictures of the star athlete and tapped the picture. “This is Whitney Martin.”
Angelo looked at the photo.
Nicholai flipped the last picture over. “She’s pasted the latest photo of her head on top of a Spring Fling picture. Under it she has printed Mia Martin. There are tiny hearts instead of dots for the I’s. Someone’s got a crush,” Nicholai said.
