“Really?” Roger looked surprised.
“Sure. I got to drive a huge U-Haul when I moved back up here. The summer my mom decided she wanted to run a food truck, I got to drive that one around. Driving a tow truck and manning a snow plow are still on the to-do list.”
“There’s no shortage of plowing opportunities up here,” Roger said.
“True. But I pay my neighbor a few bucks to just clear it all up at the top of my driveway. It saves time. It saves maintenance.”
“You left driving a tank off that list.”
“Oh, if only I could get the chance at that,” I clasped my hands in a prayerful pose and directed my eyes to the sky. “No need to worry, though. I’m a good driver. Just a couple speeding tickets a few years back, but I’ve been good lately. I can drive both stick and automatic, too. And I know where to go. I’m dropping subtle hints all over the place, in case you hadn’t guessed.” I fiddled with the locket containing some of Emily’s eucalyptus tea. I truly felt more and more like myself.
Roger paused, then shrugged. “Okay. I’ll trust you.” He handed me his keys.
“I promise you can choose the punishment if I mess something up,” I said, giving him what I hoped was a lascivious wink.
He chuckled. “I might hold you to that. I might find a way to punish you if you go two miles over the speed limit. Consider yourself warned.”
“Speed limit’s eighty, isn’t it?” I said, cackling out a raspy laugh as I sped off toward the highway.
Soon we were on our way, houses, patches of forested land and open fields flashing by as I sped along. I enjoyed the power of the engine in comparison to my little sedan.
“How’s my driving? Do you need to call the eight-hundred number and complain about my skills,” I teased.
“No. You’re good. You’re confident, but not aggressive. I think you were fighting being a bit cocky when you merged onto the freeway to take that shortcut, though.”
“Cocky. Such a good word.” I gave him another saucy wink. I definitely was feeling more confident this evening. “Yeah. The power of this thing got to me for a second. Fortunately I took after my mom as a driver. She always said, ‘Take your time, and not your life.’” I shot him a look to see if that statement bothered him. He didn’t seem upset by it, so I continued. “Well, except for the speeding thing, which I’m guilty of from time to time. My dad would have fit right in at a demolition derby.”
“That’s good to know, I guess. That you don’t drive like him, I mean.”
I slowed and made a turn onto a lonely two-lane road. This particular stretch had clearly been paved, many years ago, but now the divider line was nearly faded into nothingness. Potholes were numerous and patched with gravel. Cracks had been tarred. A half mile in, the fields were quickly taken over by a forest of trees, both heavy evergreens and others that were by now nearly barren of leaves. They grew more dense as we made our way farther in. Although it was nearly dark, occasionally the waxing moon broke through the clouds and illuminated small patches of road and clearings with its cold light.
“I haven’t been down this road in years. I can’t even remember the last time I drove down it. I don’t recall the woods being so dense, however. I think it clears a few miles up and we’ll see some more open fields then. Here it’s like driving into midnight.”
I flicked on the high beams to better illuminate our way, and I felt Roger tense by my side, the only noise being the sounds of gravel and random stones as they crunched and flew out from under the wheels of the truck.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He remained quiet. I slowed and glanced at him. He was rigid and pale with apprehension.
“Trish sure picked a lonely stretch of road to get stranded on, didn’t she?” Still no response. I slowed more, glanced over and placed my hand on his shoulder. “Is everything all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Just keep going,” he instructed.
I reflected for a moment and then I realized: This must be the road where his sister had died. What if he had never returned here since? I hadn’t been down this way myself since that time I’d gone with my mother to view the skid marks and the tree that had been damaged from the impact of the crash.
I hoped some inane chit-chat would distract him. “So, do you have any plans for Halloween? Do you like to dress up?” Still nothing. “Personally I was hoping to wear a belly dance costume if it’s not too cold. I took a few lessons earlier this year and was wanting to show off my moves.”
I turned to look at him, trying to get more of a read.
“Don’t talk. Just keep going.”
I focused on the road again, figuring the faster we got to Trish, the faster we could get out of this neck of the woods and return to town.
Suddenly I saw a young woman standing in the middle of the road, her girlish features illuminated in the truck’s high beams. I yelped and swerved to miss her, losing control of the truck. It skidded and bounced awkwardly as it tipped into a ditch and we came to a violent halt. As we stopped the seatbelt gripped me in place, but my head jerked around and I bumped my head into the driver’s side window.
27
I didn’t pass out, but I was dazed for a few minutes, as if everything was in slow motion. As I collected my thoughts I remembered Roger and turned to him. His head was slumped onto his chest. I reached out and gingerly touched his neck and face, and then gave his shoulder a shake.
“Roger? Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”
He gave a groan. “Where are we?” he asked, as his eyes fluttered open.
“I lost control of the truck. I thought I saw … something … and panicked.”
“I didn’t see anything,” he murmured. “Was it an owl?” He looked at me, and put his hand on my forehead. “Are you okay?”
“I got a bad scare and bumped my head a bit, but I think I’m good. I’ll probably just have a nasty headache and sore neck, but that’s no big deal. What about you?”
“I think I bumped my head against the headrest. Maybe I flickered out for a second, but I think I really just got shaken up.” He sounded a bit distant, but mostly alright.
“Does it hurt? Are you bleeding?” I tried to look at him, but was held in place by the seat belt. I released it, and glanced at him once more. I thought he might have had a small knick above his eyebrow. Maybe I could get a better look from his side. I opened the door and stepped out, forgetting that we’d landed in a ditch. I didn’t correct and took a tumble, twisting my ankle and howling in pain.
“Are you okay?” Roger slid over to the driver’s side and looked down on me. “Let me help you.”
“No. I’ll be fine. Oh crap. There’s a bit of standing water in the ditch. Yuck. Talk about adding insult to injury.”
He got out of the truck, with more agility than I had, and bent down to grab me under the shoulders before pulling me out of the ditch. He kept his hands on me until he was sure I could stand upright on my own.
“Did you hurt yourself there?”
I tested my ankle. It felt tender, but I could walk on it. I bent down to brush some muck and grass off my jeans.
“Are you okay?” I asked him.
He nodded. “A bit rattled, but I’m fine. I don’t feel dizzy or tired or anything.” He looked over at his truck.
“I’m really sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He reached inside the truck and fished out a flashlight and began circling the vehicle to assess the situation. “It doesn’t look like there’s any damage.”
“Are we stuck?” I asked.
He kept looking. “I’m not sure. We might be okay. There’s water in the ditch, but it’s not a deep ditch, and the ground isn’t too wet so we might not be stuck in any mud. I may be able to just put it in drive and rock it forward, and then ease it back onto the road.”
“I’m so sorry, again. I owe you big time, for letting me drive. For wrecking your truck. And for helping me pick up Trish.
Oh, I forgot about her for a second there!” I slapped my forehead in disgust. Roger set his hands on my shoulders to still me.
“Don’t worry about it. I told you, I don’t think there’s any damage. It’s just an inconvenience, but it’s not the end of the world. You give Trish a call and say we’re delayed, and I’ll work on getting the truck out of the ditch.”
“I really am sorry.” I felt on the verge of tears.
“You can make it up to me, if it makes you feel better,” Roger said, giving my shoulders a squeeze, a wan smile on his face. I knew he only did it to put my mind at ease but it helped. “Tom always raves about your desserts, so you can pay me back in pies and cakes. My favorites are pumpkin pie and anything apple, for the record.”
“Done,” I said.
He gave me a funny look.
“Yes?”
He still had his hands on my shoulders so he pulled me toward him and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. I was shocked, and pleased.
“What was that for?” I asked, fighting the urge to smile like a loon.
“Consider that part of your payback. Now, go, call Trish and I’ll work on this.”
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket as Roger turned to get back into his truck. I didn’t have any reception, so I started walking up the road a few paces. I turned back to see him looking at me. “I’m trying to pick up a signal so I can make the call,” I explained, waving my mobile in the air. He nodded in understanding as I made my way up the road. After a hundred or so paces I stood near a large tree when suddenly a couple bars flickered to life on my phone and I prepared to dial.
That’s when it hit me.
My whole world suddenly accelerated into high gear. I saw trees blur by, lit by flashes of bright lights, and felt as if I’d been jolted forward lightning quick, my stomach lurching into my throat. I heard tires screech and I screamed, as I heard glass shattering around me and metal making cruel impact with something solid that I couldn’t see.
I froze, my body shot through with a surge of white-hot pain, and I crumpled down on my knees. I leaned forward, trying to catch my breath.
Roger bent over behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. His touch caught me by surprise, and my head slammed back, hitting him right in the crotch. He grunted in pain and doubled over, rolling to his side as he went fetal and instinctively cupped his manhood.
“Oh, shit,” he grunted.
“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I asked. I managed to collect myself somewhat and reached out to him. “Oh, you really are bleeding a bit, over your eyebrow.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m getting my wind back. When I tumbled over, though, I think I broke the vial that was in my pocket. It’s poking my hip, and I can feel the oil seeping into the fabric of my jeans.” He turned over and pulled out the ruptured vessel. In the moonlight I could see the oil, slick on his fingers. The cut over his eye started to seep a bit more and he reached out to wipe some of the blood away. “Crap. I think I got some of that oil in my eye. My vision is a bit cloudy, and a bit red from the blood, I think.”
I gulped. I suspected that he had just supercharged the oil by mixing it with his blood.
Suddenly the pain exploded, pinning me back onto the ground.
I couldn’t move as I felt completely broken, crushed even. I knew I was laying in the middle of the road as I writhed about, feeling some jagged stones cruelly digging into my scalp, neck and back. I struggled to scrape in a shaky breath and felt relief as I saw darkness descending over my eyes.
I felt a warm hand on my cheek. I winced as I cracked my eyes open. The moon had further emerged from some clouds and lit Roger’s features in eerie relief as he hunched over me, worry marring his handsome features. He was blinking the eye that had the cut over it a lot.
“Are you alright?” he asked. “Is it your ankle? Did you fall? You’re not … having a stroke, are you?”
“I don’t know,” I gritted out, fighting to speak the words. “It was like I drove the truck into the ditch again. But a thousand times worse.” More pain shot through me, and I turned to see Ivy kneeling next to me, her eyes boring into me.
I reached for the locket full of herbs that Emily had told me to wear, and found it was gone. “My locket,” I croaked. I was terrified she was somehow doing this to me, that this was a punishment for evicting her from my home and store.
“Don’t worry about the necklace. I can go look for it once I’m sure you’re okay,” Roger said. “Or we can come back another day and hunt for it in daylight. Do you see something to your left? You’re looking in that direction like something is there.”
I was afraid to look away from Ivy, her eyes locked onto mine with such intensity.
“You were supposed to help me,” she spat. “And you’ve done nothing. You’ve just chased me away, and now I’m just miserable. Stuck here with him, with no hope.”
“I don’t know how to help,” I gasped.
She continued to sit there, motionless. Her expression reminded me of that of a cat’s when it focuses on a kill.
“You promised you’d help,” she seethed.
“I promised I’d try to help,” I corrected.
“Who is that?” Roger asked. “I hear a voice. It’s distant, but I hear something.” He turned back to his truck. “Did the radio come on?”
“That would be a no,” I said.
Roger twisted his head in the direction I was looking. “What’s happening? Who are you talking to? It sounds like Ivy, but that’s not possible.”
“Oh, trust me, it’s possible,” I sputtered, feeling paralyzed with agony. I wondered what I could say or do to resolve her dilemma. I thought for a moment and something dawned on me. I seemed to be some sort of conduit for her. Maybe I could briefly link her and Roger so he could see and speak with her one last time. I turned to the girl’s ghost and spoke again. “Is this where you died?” She nodded and I saw a silvery tear make its way down her translucent cheek.
“Give me your hand, Ivy. And concentrate on this moment. And concentrate hard.” I jerked my arm in her direction and felt her icy fingers lock with mine. Then I took my right hand and grabbed Roger’s wrist with all my might. I felt an icy jolt bolt through my left hand, shoot up my arm and thunder across my chest, making its way through me and into Roger’s hand.
“What the hell!” he barked out in surprise, as he tried to jerk his hand away. “It feels like you’re pulling me into an icy river.”
28
Suddenly I was in the back of a small car, speeding down a rough and rambling country road. Wyatt was behind the wheel, and Roger was riding shotgun. Both looked some years younger, although Wyatt’s features looked slightly more boyish.
My hands were resting on the backs of the driver and passenger’s seats. I looked at them and I was surprised to see a class ring on my index finger and chipped blue polish on my nails. When did I do that?
I tried to crane my neck so I could catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror, but couldn’t make the body move. Then the car went over a bump and the body I occupied jostled over a couple inches. I caught a glimpse. It was dark, but the face looking back at me didn’t match what I expected to see. Then it hit me. I was seeing this through Ivy’s eyes. Oh, my God, no.
I tried to speak, to ask what was happening, but I couldn’t. I was just a spectator in this ride.
“Wyatt,” I heard Roger seethe. “We’re already late. Mom and Dad are going to ground us.”
“Yes, Mom,” Wyatt replied sarcastically. Roger turned his head left, shooting his brother an angry glance. “Don’t worry. I might be able to get us home in time.”
“It’s five to eleven. We’re not going to get home in five minutes. Just slow down already. We all had a couple beers at Jason’s house – though you shouldn’t have had any, Ivy – and it’s dark out.”
The car swerved and its tires screeched in protest as Wyatt quickly corrected course.
I felt myself jostled around in the back o
f the car and wanted to look around for something to anchor myself to. I felt Ivy’s mouth open as she threw her head back and squealed with laughter. I tried to touch my mouth – or hers – but found I couldn’t make the connection. It was as if my arms had fallen asleep and all I could do was see and hear what was happening.
“Hey man! You almost went off the road there. Be careful!” Roger spat.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get us home in time. I can’t get grounded. Dad said he’ll take the car away from me if I get home late again.”
“So what? He’ll take it away for a week, and you’ll be fine,” Ivy cut in.
“No. This time he said he’ll take it away permanently if I get in trouble again. That means not getting home late. It means no drinking, no weed, no cutting classes, no speeding tickets,” Wyatt said.
“So maybe he’ll take it away from you and give it to me in a few months when I turn sixteen,” Ivy teased. “If you’re nice to your awesome little sister, I’ll lend it to you. Especially if you fill the gas tank when you return it to me.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny,” Wyatt groused.
“Seriously. Be careful. Maybe you should stop and let me drive.”
“No way, Rog,” Wyatt snapped. “You’ll just make us later if we stop and switch places. His expression grew tight-lipped as he focused, hitting the accelerator. The car charged ahead so quickly Ivy (and myself, in her mind and body) was thrown backwards. “Plus, you’ll drive like an old lady and I’ll definitely lose the car.”
“Come on. This is crazy. You’re skidding all over the place. You’re a shitty driver when you’re sober. And now…” Roger reached his hand out in Wyatt’s direction. “Stop and let me drive. I’ll come up with an excuse.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re twenty and can’t get grounded.”
“I’m twenty and can take the blame for us getting home late.”
“Dad will never believe it, so let it go.”
Giving Up the Ghost Page 24
