Devoured

by Amanda Marrone

  “Fine. Next question—and you need to be totally honest.”

  He furrows his brow. “Okay.”

  “Does a part of you get off knowing that Samantha is always waiting in the wings?”

  He laces his fingers together, hangs his head, and looks sideways at me. “No!”

  “It’s not like it’d make you an evil person—being flattered is part of human nature. As is being jealous.” I shrug. “I guess it just bugs me that you two keep having these talks about needing space, and yet this romantic evening you planned has her fingerprints on it.”

  “It’s hard because she’s right next door—it’s not like I can avoid her, and she has been my friend for a long time.”

  “I know.” I pick up Pretty in Pink. “And maybe I over-reacted. Molly Ringwald does end up with the hottie at the end of movie and not the best friend.”

  Ryan gives me a smoldering look. “Just like me!”

  “You get brownie points for that,” I say. I toss the case on the table and give him a quick kiss. “What else did you bring? And if you say season one of Dawson’s Creek, I’m gonna punch you.”

  “Dawson’s Creek?”

  “It’s an old TV series Nicki made me watch a gazillion times freshman year. Six seasons of unrequited love revolving around a guy in desperate need of hair intervention.”

  Ryan shakes his head. “No Dawson’s Creek, but I picked these out: Shaun of the Dead and Stardust. I remember you said you like reading Neil Gaiman’s stuff, but given my talent for screwing up …” He holds out Shaun of the Dead. “Maybe watching guys getting their brains eaten out would be more therapeutic right now.”

  I look around and see that Remy’s nowhere in sight. “While that sounds appealing, I have a better idea.” I kiss him lightly on the lips. “I don’t know how long my mom will be out, but she always parks the car in the garage at night, so we’ll hear her when she gets home.”

  I kick off my sandals, lean back on the couch, and pull Ryan down on top of me.

  “Yeah, this is better than zombies,” he whispers into my neck.

  He kisses me and I slide my hands under his shirt. I run my fingers across his back, and I know I’ll be able to shut out the madness for a while—at least until Mom comes home.

  The garage door rattles up, and Ryan jumps off the couch. I pull my shirt back over my head and straighten the couch cushions. “Put a movie on. I’ll get the rest of the Chinese out!”

  Ryan fumbles with a DVD case, and I giggle as I take containers out of the bag and open them. “Hurry!” I say as I unwrap the chopsticks. I run into the kitchen and grab a couple of plates and then rush back into the living room.

  Ryan sits back on the couch and I hand him the fried rice. He turns to me as he dumps the rice out onto our plates, and his eyes pop. “Your hair!”

  I get up and look in the mirror. Total bed head, or couch head—either way, my hair screams make-out session. “I’ll be right back.” I go into the bathroom and pull a brush through my hair. My cheeks are flushed, but hopefully Mom will think it’s from the chilies in the General Tso’s chicken and not from fooling around with Ryan.

  I go back into the living room and cringe. Mom is standing next to the couch with her arms folded against her chest, staring at Ryan.

  “My lawyer may want to talk with you, is that okay?”

  “Mom!”

  Mom turns to me, her face pinched with anger. “Well, no one at the home could give me a satisfactory answer about what happened and how they can keep it from happening again, so I think I am perfectly justified getting our lawyer involved to make sure your father is getting adequate care.”

  I roll my eyes. “I think contacting a psychic would be more appropriate.”

  “And just what is that supposed to mean?” she says, giving me a look that tells me a good head-shrinking with my therapist is just a speed dial away.

  Before I can answer her, Ryan stands up. “I really didn’t see anything, Mrs. Sones; it seemed to happen all at once.” He looks at me. “And actually, I should probably head home. We’re going to a christening in Portland tomorrow, so we have to get an early start. I’ll text you from the car and we can plan that hike.”

  “Great. I’ll walk you out,” I say.

  Mom stares daggers at me, and Ryan shifts uncomfortably. “That’s okay, Meg. I’ll, uh, give you a call tomorrow.” He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Bye, Mrs. Sones.”

  He shuts the door and I brace myself before turning to face Mom.

  “Do you want to explain yourself, young lady?”

  Do I? Hell, yeah! Do I think you’ll believe me? Shit, no! But I don’t want the nursing home to take the rap for Remy either. Those people work crazy hours for little pay or gratitude, and I’m not gonna let Mom sic her out-for-blood lawyer on them.

  “It was Remy. She was mad, and then everything just exploded.”

  Mom inhales deeply as her face pales. “Not this again, Megan. I won’t let you do this to me again.”

  “I’m not doing it; Remy is. You’ve seen the aftermath of her temper tantrums here. Things flying off the wall, light-bulbs popping—you can’t pretend that’s normal. For God’s sake, put two and two together!”

  Mom starts to walk away, and I run after her, grabbing her arm. “How many microwaves have we replaced? How many broken picture frames have there been, or knocked over chairs? It’s all Remy.”

  Mom tries to jerk her am away but I hold tight. “Try to see her. Call her name!”

  “Let go of me,” she says through clenched teeth.

  “Call her, damn it! Try to see her and find out why she’s haunting me.” I let go of her arm and look up at her face. “Please, Mommy,” I say, tears pouring down my cheeks. “She’s still here—and maybe if you believe, you’ll see her. I need you to see her. I need your help.”

  Mom’s face hardens into an expressionless mask, and I look wildly around the room. “Remy! Mommy’s looking for you! Where are you?”

  “Stop it, Megan!”

  “Remy! Where are you? I’ll, uh, I’ll make a wish! Did you hear me, Remy?” I sniff as I start walking around the room. “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight.”

  Remy appears, hazy and shimmering, in front of me. “Make a wish, Meggy.”

  “There!” I scream, pointing to Remy. “She’s right there!”

  Mom backs away, but her eyes dart around. Please, God, let Mom see her. Fergus runs in and stands at her side, staring in Remy’s direction. He whines, and Mom waves a hand dismissively at him.

  I look at Remy and gesture toward Mom. “Remy, go to Mommy. Show her you’re here!”

  Mom shakes her head, but her eyes continue to search the room.

  “Mom, she’s right here—Remy needs you.”

  “No,” Mom whispers. Her lower lip trembles. “Stop it, Megan.”

  I look back and forth between Remy and Mom—neither one seeing the other—and fall to my knees. “You’re her mother, why can’t you see her?” I point up at Remy again. “She’s right there!”

  Tears well up in Mom’s eyes, and her face crumples. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “I need you to see her,” I say, sobbing. “I can’t do this by myself anymore.”

  “What you need is help.” She shakes her head and turns away from me to go into the kitchen.

  “Don’t bother calling Dr. Macardo! I’m not crazy and you can’t make me go.” I curl up on the floor and Fergus lies down next to me. I wrap my arms around him and cry as Remy skips in a circle around us.

  FIVE

  A car blows past me and I wobble on my bike. I grip the handlebars tighter and keep my legs pumping in a steady rhythm. I hope Luke is home. It’s only seven thirty, so I’m thinking it’s too early for him to be heading to Land of Enchantment. Of course, he’s probably asleep and won’t be too excited about my waking him up, but I’m desperate.

  I see the sign welcoming tourists to the North Conway outlet strip, and just past
it is Luke’s purple house.

  I pedal harder and then brake by the front walkway. Lawn ornaments line the path and I can imagine what Nicki would say if she were here. “This array of gnomes, plastic ducks, and spotted fawns is clearly a sign of mental illness, and you’d be crazy to go in that house.”

  I sigh. Seeing as ‘crazy’ is my new middle name, what do I have to lose?

  As I roll my bike toward the house, I try to shake off the feeling that I’m sneaking around on Ryan. I know I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m just here about Remy, and the fluttering in my stomach is all about nerves and not about keeping something from my boyfriend. And I tried to tell Ryan about her, I needed him to know, but it was pretty obvious that pushing the whole ghost thing would’ve sent him running—like Mom.

  I lean my bike against the front porch. Wind chimes tinkle as the cool morning breeze blows past, carrying the scent of lilacs. I walk slowly up the creaking steps and my stomach flips nervously. What if Luke can’t help me? What if I’m stuck with Remy for the rest of my life?

  I ring the bell and hear feet shuffling inside. The door opens and a small, round woman in a floral housecoat looks up at me. She fingers a long, thick braid of white hair draped over her shoulder and clucks her tongue.

  “Oh,” she says as she reaches a hand toward my arm. “You poor thing, come inside and let Nona help you.”

  The moment her fingers touch my skin, the nervous feeling disappears.

  She leads me into a room just off the front entryway and points to an overstuffed chair.

  “Sit,” she says gently.

  I drop down into the chair and she looks me up and down. “You’re too young to have such a dark cloud surrounding you.”

  “I’m—I’m here to see Luke,” I say, unable to look away from her piercing blue eyes.

  “Shh.” Nona reaches out and places her hands on my temples. “So much pain,” she whispers.

  A sense of calm seems to radiate from her fingers and fills my body. I sink back into the chair and breathe deeply.

  “That’s it,” she says.

  “Nona!”

  I bolt up in the chair. Luke is standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips.

  Nona scoffs. “Don’t start with me, Luka. At seventy-nine I tell you what to do and not vice versa!”

  Luke rushes to her side just in time to catch Nona as she wobbles on her feet. “At seventy-nine I’d think you’d know better,” he says as he leads her to another chair.

  Nona fans her face for a few seconds and then points to me. “If you saw what I did, you’d know this can’t wait!”

  Luke looks at me, his brow furrowed. “Megan, what are you doing here?”

  “I thought maybe you could help me with—”

  Luke shakes his head and mouths the word “no.”

  “You never mind him; I can help you and the little girl,” Nona says.

  She looks to the window, and I turn and see Remy standing quietly, the curtains floating gently through her.

  “You see her too?” I ask.

  “Is there something here, Nona?” Luke asks. He peers around the room, but his eyes don’t stop on Remy. I give him a quizzical look. He puts a finger up to his lip and shakes his head. It’s obvious he doesn’t want me to talk about what happened at Land of Enchantment, but I don’t know why.

  “Yes, there is a little girl who needs my help.”

  “Nona, enough already. You almost fainted.”

  Nona shakes her head and pushes herself up from her chair. “I can handle this, Luka. Make yourself useful and bring over the chair. I’ll sit if that’ll get you off an old woman’s back.”

  Luke drags the chair over across from mine. Nona plops down and reaches out for my hand.

  “It’s hard work healing with these old hands of mine, but God gave me this gift,” she says, glaring at Luke, “and I won’t turn anyone away—not when I can make them better.”

  I look at Luke biting his lip as he stands behind Nona’s chair.

  “Tell me what happened to your sister,” Nona says quietly. “I must know everything so I can help her move on.”

  I take a deep breath. How did she know Remy was my sister? My next thought is that I don’t want to even think about the accident, let alone give a blow by blow. I shake my head, trying to keep the tears at bay.

  “It’s okay,” Nona whispers. “Let it go.” She gently takes both of my hands, and I feel that sense of calm coursing through me again. “Tell Nona.”

  I close my eyes and see Remy and me sitting in the backseat of our old orange Volvo. “We … we were driving to a restaurant for my dad’s birthday. Mom was going to meet us there.”

  Dad was going too fast along the river. We were running late, because Remy had to find her favorite purple sundress. It was too short, and Mom was forever putting it in the bag of clothes to bring to Goodwill, and Remy was forever fishing it out.

  Remy dumped several bags piled in the sun porch out onto the floor, making a total mess, until she found it. Dad didn’t even make her pick up all the clothes, and I knew Mom would have a fit when we all got home.

  My lip trembles as I remember I’d been looking forward to Remy getting in trouble when Mom saw she was wearing the dress.

  “Keep going,” Nona whispers.

  I nod and continue. “The sky got really, really dark. Lightning streaked past and Remy, my sister, counted the seconds until the thunder clapped. ‘It’s close, Daddy,’ she said, and then the rain came.

  “I could barely see out the windshield, and then there was another flash of lightning ahead of us. Just as the thunder boomed, rocks rained down onto the car as the cliff on the side of the road gave way.” I swallow hard. “The landslide pushed us off the road and the car flipped twice before we hit the river.

  “The car landed on its side and was swept downstream until it slammed up against a boulder. Remy’s window smashed, and then water came in.”

  I close my eyes and hear the sound of the river in my head—our screams. “Remy tried to undo her seat belt as the water filled the car. I was hanging from my booster seat, and I tried to reach her but I couldn’t. I cried for Dad to help, but he was unconscious in the front seat and just about under too. By the time the current pushed the car upright again, Remy wasn’t breathing and my dad never woke up.”

  Nona squeezes my hand as she rocks back and forth. I feel surprisingly light and calm despite the fact that I just relived the accident.

  She drops my hands and leans back in her chair. “Your sister is searching for something,” Nona says. “She won’t leave until she finds it. I’m picking up helplessness from her—and fear. Great fear.”

  Nona pulls some tissues out from her cleavage under the housecoat and mops her face. “Luka, I need to lie down and rest before my afternoon appointments. Can you help me?”

  Luke nods and helps Nona stand. “I can’t lead your sister to the light; she won’t see it until she finds what she’s looking for. You come back again, and I will see if I can talk with her when I’m feeling stronger.”

  “Don’t go,” Luke says softly to me, and then he leads Nona out of the room.

  “What are you looking for, Remy?” I whisper, watching her rocking back and forth on her heels.

  “Hey, let’s go outside where we can talk,” Luke says when he returns. I follow him out through the back of the house to a gazebo surrounded by tall grass and wildflowers.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks as we take a seat on the cushioned bench.

  “I don’t know why, but I actually feel better than I have in a long time. I thought talking about the accident would make me feel worse, but …”

  Luke nods. “Among other things, Nona’s an empath— she takes away people’s pain. It’s not permanent or anything, and it really knocks it out of her, but you should be feeling pretty good for a while.”

  “Oh, great, so I pretty much beat up your grandmother?”

  A half smile creeps across his
face and he runs his fingers through his hair. “Pretty much, but she asked for it.”

  My shoulders slump. “I am so sorry. I never would have let her do that if I knew. I just came here to see you. I was hoping you could help me with Remy.”

  He looks up toward his house, and then back at me. “About that. I want to help you, but I have to be careful because Nona doesn’t actually know I inherited the spooky gene. As far as she’s concerned, I’m as psychic as the ceramic kittens hanging on the side of the house over there.”

  I stare at him incredulously. “But how can she not know? From what I just experienced, I’d be surprised you could hide anything from her.”

  Luke looks at the house again and shrugs. “I guess I’m a pretty good actor. There’ve been a few close calls—it’s not easy pretending not to notice nasty stuff racing around a room.”

  I give him a look. “Tell me about it.”

  Luke smiles. “Yeah, I guess you know what I’m talking about.”

  “But I don’t understand. I have to pretend Remy doesn’t exist so I don’t get put under heavy sedation and carted off to the loony bin.” I shake my head. Given what happened last night, I should probably be on alert for ambulance drivers lurking in the bushes, waiting to ambush me. “But all this ghost stuff is just part of your DNA—why hide it?”

  Luke laughs. “Because I don’t want to spend my life listening to people who want to know if their dearly departed think they should cut the spoiled grandkids out of their will, or if they really meant to leave all of their money to the dog.”

  I look at him with wide eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Sadly, yes. There’s this one woman who comes in just about every other week to talk to her dead mother about whether or not she should change her hair color or break up with the guy she’s dating. And some man came in two days ago with his Siamese cat, Mr. Bootsie, to see if Nona could ask it if his wife is cheating on him.”

  “Was she cheating?”

  Luke shakes his head. “We have many talents, but communicating with pampered pets is not one of them.” He shrugs. “I grew up watching a parade of people come to my house needing spiritual guidance for the most mundane things, and I knew I didn’t want to go there. I pretended not to see the ghosts, and Nona directed all of her attention on training my sister.” Luke bows his head.