The Counseling

by Marley Gibson

  Jess and Willow expertly ride almost every single swell into shore, like the boys. I'm getting wicked frustrated because everyone is catching waves but me and I want one worse than anyone.

  "May I give you some advice, Kendall?" Jess asks.

  "Sure thing. I need all the help I can get," I say, exasperated.

  "You've got to get up on top of the wave, g'friend. Try going just a few seconds earlier and really push off the bottom, propel yourself forward. Once you get on top of the wave, hold on to the board, pressing it down some so you can ride it out."

  "That's what I've been trying to do."

  She shakes her head. "Not really. You're getting pounded out here. You don't want Oliver to have to come out there and rescue you, do you?"

  I chuckle. "No worries. I'm a good swimmer."

  I paddle out farther because I'm not going to give up. How hard can this be? Practice makes perfect.

  A few failed attempts later, I'm ready to karate chop this boogie board.

  "You almost had that one," Willow says as we wait for the next swell. "The waves are coming even closer, only about nine seconds apart."

  "Is that good?" I ask.

  "Yeah, it helps you with your timing."

  Micah zooms past me, high above a wave. "Wooo-heeee!"

  I slap my hand on the water. "Damnit! I want that!"

  Willow smiles. "Then come with me. I'll get you on one."

  Jess whizzes by in a blond flash as Willow and I continue out just past where the waves swell and peak. I sit perched on the bodyboard, facing the beach. The wind whips around me, blowing my wet hair into my eyes.

  "Okay, get ready!" Willow adjusts on her board and comes over to me. "When I say go, start kicking and paddling your ass off."

  I feel the sea move underneath me and feel the wave about to crest. Giving one amazing shove on the back of my board, Willow screams, "Go!" I push off the ocean floor and propel myself forward onto the board and onto the swell, kicking like I never have before. I realize I've done it. I'm on top and I'm riding in like I'm on a flying carpet.

  "Oh my Gooooood!" I scream in glee. This is like nothing I've ever done. I'm skidding along on top of the water holding tight to the board, headed to the beach. Absolutely amazing! That's when I remember Jess saying something about pushing the board down ... right? I put all of my weight forward on the board, pressing it into the water. Holy crap! I push it too far and I'm suddenly pulled under and flipped over. The water overcomes me and I don't know which way is up. Where am I? Where's the surface? I hold my breath and try to get oriented without panicking. My foot hits sand and I know that's the bottom. I thrust myself up, stretching until I finally explode to the surface.

  Gaaaaasp!

  No sooner do I refill my lungs with precious oxygen than another wave hits me and slams me to the bottom again. The rolling water churns me over and over like clothes spinning in the dryer. I'm totally running out of air again, but I float up just in time to gulp in more. Then another wave slams me. And another. I close my eyes against the stinging salt water that goes straight up my nose. Racking coughs hit me, as does another wave. I'm flailing around like a fish out of its tank, just waiting for that last bit of air to leave my body.

  "Kendall!" Willow screams to me. "Swim, Kendall!"

  What the hell does she think I'm trying to do? All I'm doing is swimming.

  I hear Jess yelling at me as well, but I can't do anything about it.

  "Help me!" I manage to screech before the next wave consumes me. I have no power over the churning sea that wants to make me part of its underwater world. Down, down, down I go again ... bubbles smearing my vision. Something is tugging me backwards and sideways and not letting me surface.

  Oh. My. God. I've already had one brush with death; am I having another? Is this the vision I saw days ago?

  Seriously, this can't be how it ends for me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  WATER RUSHES UP MY NOSE and I cough, losing precious air.

  The next thing I know, someone is next to me. A hand joins with mine, and I'm tugged into the strong chest of the swimmer trying to rescue me. Jess? Willow? Maybe even Micah. Whoever it is, I'm mondo grateful.

  Through the powerful kicking of my rescuer, we burst to the surface like a rocket ship. I take a deep breath, relishing the precious air inside me once again.

  A muffled voice behind me says, "Hold on and don't fight me."

  Like I have the strength to battle anyone, much less a person who's saving me.

  I curl my hands around the muscular forearm towing me to the beach. Okay ... so it's not one of the girls. Whatever. I don't care at this moment. I'm just glad God answered my prayers and sent me some help. I glance down. On the rippled biceps of my knight in shining armor is a small tattoo of a smiling ghost. It's both odd and soothing, and I grin because of it. Funny someone should have a tat like that.

  When we reach the shore, I hear Oliver's voice. "Is she okay?"

  "She'll be fine."

  I sit in the shallow water and try to stop panting. I glance at the arm wrapped around my chest ... a gloved hand holds me tightly.

  Patrick.

  "Ho. Ly. Shit."

  He just looks at me, trying to catch his own breath.

  Whoa. He overcame his fear and swam out to get me.

  Patrick saved me.

  Yes, I did. On both counts.

  But ... but ... you said...

  Your almost drowning was a cataclysmic event, Kendall.

  I twist in his arms until we're eye to eye. Heart to heart. Soul to soul. Then, without caring what he—or anyone else—will think about me, I throw myself around him and hug him with the remaining ounces of strength that I have. He pulls me in tightly and squeezes back.

  Thanks sounds incredibly lame ... but thanks.

  De nada.

  He sets me back away from him and smiles. It is both heartbreaking and liberating. His eyes soften and I read pages of concern from him. He cares about me and risked everything by jumping into the water. I'm lost in the complexities of his face, and thoughts of Jason Tillson up in Alaska fade into oblivion.

  I realize that although Patrick saved me from the water, I'm totally a goner over him.

  "I really do think we should call the doctor to come check on you, dear," Chris says when we're back at the inn. She ladles another gigamonic mound of her homemade beef stew into my bowl. Apparently the rule is starve a fever, feed the nearly drowned.

  Blowing on the molten stew, I say, "I'm fine. Seriously. No doctor, please."

  Maddie tilts her head to one side. "Doctors make house calls out here?"

  Chris nods. "They do when they're your brother-in-law."

  I smile sweetly at the innkeeper. "That's awfully nice of you, Miss Chris, but I'm okay. I just won't need sodium in my food for a while after all the salt water I consumed today."

  Everyone around laughs. Even Patrick.

  I'm still in shock that he jumped into the water and saved me. I'm forever in his debt.

  He lifts his head up from his food and fixes his gaze on me. No sentences pass between us. Not even thoughts. Nothing needs to be said. Words don't matter. Only feelings. I'm all atingle and it's not from the seawater buzz I've had all afternoon. It's from Patrick. We share ... something. Souls that were meant to cross? I don't even want to think about what might have happened to me if he hadn't jumped into the water. I might have been fish food for all of the Pacific Ocean's marine life.

  Oliver lets out a sigh of relief. "I think, considering the physical exertion of the day, we'll call it an early one. We'll reconvene in the morning, okay?"

  "It's only seven thirty," Greg says in a slight whine.

  I feel like a buzz kill on the retreat, but all I want to do is crawl into the cool sheets of my comfy bed and try not to think about the close call I had. If it weren't for Patrick...

  Well, I don't want to think about it. With one last look tossed at my rescuer—and a wink from him—I go
over to Jess, she wraps her arm around my shoulder, and we head off to cabin 14.

  Sleep doesn't last long, though.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  I roll over in bed to see what Jessica is up to. She's sound asleep, her leg slung over the covers and hanging off the bed.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  "What the—"

  The clock reads 11:11, and I am so not happy to be awakened. Whatever spirit is messing with me right now needs to understand the physically and emotionally exhausting day I've had.

  Kendall ... it's me.

  Patrick?

  I slip on my RHS shorts and grab my blue sweatshirt, then creep over to the door. The moonlight streams into the room when I crack it open. Patrick is standing on the porch in a long-sleeved shirt that reads "I Love the Smell of Neoprene in the Morning." I have no earthly clue what that even means.

  "It's a diving reference," he says in response to my thoughts. "That's not important, though. I need to talk to you."

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I follow him out into the night. He's not wearing his hat or sunglasses, but the leather gloves are still on.

  He spins to face me. "Look, I got a visit from Hailey a little while ago."

  "My Hailey?"

  "Unless you know of another teenage spirit that's hanging around here tapping on both of our minds."

  "Sorry," I say. "What did she want?"

  "She told me she's been missing for months. Her parents are still holding out hope, but it's false hope, since she's a ghost. We've got to help her ... somehow."

  "What can we do?" I ask.

  "I don't know. We've got to do something. There's a restless spirit and a family out there that needs closure."

  Striking out onto the path, I say, "We've got to tell the counselors."

  "I'm right behind you."

  We pad through the garden area and up the long staircase. Once inside the main house, we're greeted by a yelping Speedy, growling and snarling at us like we're burglars.

  "Calm down, puppy," I say as he wags his fluffy tail at me.

  "You'll wake the whole compound," Patrick fusses at him.

  Speedy nips at our legs as we make our way into the sitting room of the inn. Chris and Glenn share a bedroom here on the first floor, but I'm not exactly sure where Heidi, Mary, Peggy, and Wisdom Walker sleep.

  "Down this hall," Patrick says and leads the way.

  Sure enough, there are more guest rooms off the pitch-black hallway. Yet when we knock on a door, no one answers.

  "Try the next one," I encourage.

  No answer on that one either.

  Speedy's guard-dog yapping has awakened the innkeepers. Chris comes out of her room in a flowery bathrobe. "What are you kids doing up this late?"

  "We're looking for the counselors," I say.

  Chris eyeballs us both and then looks at Speedy, who adds an extra growl. "Now don't go getting hinky on these children, Speedy. Back outside. Shoo!" Chris closes the bedroom door behind her and then flicks on the hall light. "Come out to the kitchen and I'll get Oliver."

  I furrow my brow. "Oh, geesh—we didn't want to bother him. Can't you tell us where Peggy and Heidi are?"

  "They're ... umm ... not here right now," Chris says. She moves to the coffeemaker and switches it on. "They don't always stay here."

  "Oh," I say, dejected. Of course, if they live in the area, it would be silly for them to live here; they probably have families of their own.

  "Please get Oliver then," Patrick says.

  Soon, Oliver enters the kitchen, dark circles under his eyes from sleep interruption. Patrick and I relay everything we know about Hailey—how she approached us both here, the visions we've had, and how she's pleaded for help.

  Oliver scratches his chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Can either of you draw me a picture of her?"

  I frown. "I can't even draw stick figures, I'm afraid."

  "Me either," Patrick says.

  Oliver thinks hard. "I don't remember the ability to draw being in any attendee's dossier. If I had a rendering of her, I could get it out to the authorities and see what we could find out."

  Aha!

  "I know! My best friend, Celia, is an amazing artist. She can do it."

  Oliver cocks an eyebrow at me. "There are plenty of local police forces we could go to who have artists who can—"

  "She'll want to help, Oliver. Hailey's missing body could be anywhere. We have no idea if it's a local case or not."

  "That's true," he says.

  "Besides," I say with a knowing snicker, "if I don't go to Celia for help, I'd never hear the end of it."

  "Okay, then," he says. "Where is she?"

  "She's in Chicago with her family, but I can Skype her on the computer," I say, not even thinking of the hour and the time diff.

  "Sounds perfect."

  Patrick and I leave Oliver and head back to my room. Without any thought of Jess slumbering away, I snatch on the light and pull my computer up onto the bed. Patrick sits next to me and waits patiently as the laptop boots up. Jess groans and mumbles something, then turns her back to us. That girl could sleep through a tornado, I bet.

  The call on Skype goes through to Celia_GhostHuntress, and after five rings, a very disheveled and sleepy Celia appears on the screen.

  "Are you effing kidding me, K? It's like one a.m."

  "Sorry, Cel! This is an emergency and I knew you'd want to help." I tell her over the webcam what's going on with Hailey. "So, as you can see, I need your drawing services ASAP" The lamp next to Celia's bed comes on and soon she's in full ghost-huntress mode. "Ready when you are."

  "Oh, Cel, by the way, this is Patrick Lynn. He's seen this spirit too, so we'll both be describing her to you."

  Celia's eyes twinkle a bit and I can read six thousand questions scrolling in her mind like a Wall Street ticker board. "Nice to meet you, Patrick."

  For the next hour, he and I take turns telling Celia about Hailey: her features, her outfit, and her hair. Celia's tongue pokes out of her mouth as she puts the final touches on the picture and then holds it up to the screen.

  "How's that?" she asks.

  "Perfect!" Patrick and I say at exactly the same time.

  "How do we get that to Oliver?" he asks.

  "Ahhh ... I know. Cel, hold it up to the screen again." When she does, I move my mouse to the top of the screen and click Take Snapshot. "Voilà!"

  "That's pretty cool," Patrick says and then smiles. "Great job, Celia. Nice to meet you."

  "You too, Patrick," she says. "Umm ... Kendall, you owe me one hell of a phone call."

  "Later, Cel. You're the best! Love ya; mean it."

  Patrick and I rush back to the main inn with my laptop in tow. Oliver is sipping coffee at the kitchen table and reading a book of meditations. We plug my computer into the printer port in the sitting area where the guest computer is, and the image of Hailey prints out.

  Oliver takes the page and studies it; his hands hover over Hailey's features. "I'm getting strong energy from her. While you were right to assume this case could be anywhere, I believe it is local and that's why Hailey reached out to the two of you. You definitely have something here." He glances at us. "I'll get this to my connections in the police department and see what we can discover. See if your Hailey here matches any missing-persons cases."

  "Thanks, Oliver," I say and then move to return to my cabin.

  "Since we're awake, let's stir the whole team and get them on this too," Oliver says as he stands up. "Might as well use all the psychic brainpower we've got here."

  "I'll get the girls," I say excitedly.

  "I'll get the guys," Patrick echoes.

  He walks back with me as we get ready to wake up the whole complex. There's so much I want to say to him, but my thoughts back up like a clogged drain. At my porch, he gazes down on me with those incredible brown eyes of his. I swear he wants to kiss me.

  And I want to kiss him back.

  He reaches his gloved ha
nd up to my cheek, but pulls away before making actual contact. He shoves his hand into the pocket of his jeans.

  "See you in a bit, Kendall."

  And with that, he disappears around the corner, leaving me breathless.

  Chapter Twenty

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, an unkempt and slightly sleep-discombobulated group sits in the conference room awaiting instructions.

  Oliver bounds in with another steaming cup of coffee, excitement simply radiating off him. "I know I called it an early night, but something's come up and I need everyone's help, energies, and abilities. We have some work to do."

  Several of my friends moan and groan in their sleep haze.

  "Awww, come on, y'all," Harper says. "We're here to learn."

  "Exactly," Oliver says. "This is not only a challenge of your collective abilities and enlightenment but a chance to help a family whose daughter has been missing for several months. We may be able to solve this as a group."

  "I wasn't asleep," Micah says. "I was just surfing the Web."

  "We're here," Peggy announces, and Mary, Heidi, and Wisdom Walker follow her into the room.

  "Good, good," Oliver says. "Let's get settled, then."

  I grab a Diet Coke from the refreshment table that Chris and Glenn set up and then sit next to Patrick, awaiting Oliver's next directive.

  While our host elucidates all the details Patrick and I told him, I try not to be geeked out that Patrick has looped his arm over the back of my chair. This isn't the time for my immense crush on him. It's time to join together as a group to help find Hailey. Like she asked me to do. And like Emily told me to do.

  Oliver clicks on an overhead projector, and the sketched image that Celia was kind enough to make appears on the screen.

  "Both Patrick and Kendall have had visitations from this spirit while here at Rose Briar Inn. Has anyone else had contact with her?"

  Willow raises her hand. "I felt the presence of an owl here. He's been speaking to me. He told me of a teenage girl who was ... lost, but it was so vague, I didn't know what to do with that, eh?"