The Counseling

by Marley Gibson

  "I'm trying to scream," Harper says. "Hailey, I mean. I'm feeling her attempt to scream, but it's not working because his hands are over her mouth."

  An owl squawks overhead and takes flight. Willow watches his pattern and then looks to all of us, knowing the owl is a sign.

  Patrick takes over. "Now his hands are around Hailey's throat and she's struggling to breathe. Her eyes are begging him to stop."

  I blink hard to rid my own eyes of the hot tears filming my vision. "She died here. He panicked and hid her body. The ground was hard, so he couldn't bury her deep. But she's here."

  The policemen take notice. "We need something more substantial."

  Oliver raises his hand. "Give them a moment, Officers."

  "I have divining rods," Talking Feathers says. "Let me walk around the area some."

  "I'll dowse," Carl says.

  "I'll dowse too," I say.

  Harper stoops to the ground and begins to feel around, obviously trying to connect with Hailey or her attacker.

  With Carl and me dowsing with pendulums, Josiah on the rods, Harper using her empathy, and Patrick and Oliver going purely by instinct, we all end up in the same exact location.

  "Look!" Willow exclaims, pointing up. Sure enough, the owl is on the branch of the nearest tree, watching us. "It's a sign."

  "It damn sure is," Patrick says.

  We exchange glances, wondering what to do next. We're in a thick covering of leaves and pinecones, about fifty feet east of the Wawona Tunnel Tree. It's far off the path, in an area where tourists would never venture; no wonder Hailey hasn't been discovered. But she is here.

  You found me, Kendall, Hailey says, standing next to me.

  Why didn't you just tell me? I ask. Wouldn't that have been easier?

  She shrugs. I didn't know where I was. I was scared and confused. But I knew you'd help. You and Patrick. You have a special bond and you used it to find me.

  Patrick's fingers tighten on my hand, and I know he sees her too.

  His voice is mature and calm, not bitter or denying now. "Oliver, get the policemen, please."

  No one moves. Certainly not me. While I talk to spirits all the time, I certainly don't want to see a dead body.

  The deputies rush over and confer with Oliver. One of the men breaks off and asks us to leave the area. My tears fall unfettered now as I bury my head in Patrick's shoulder. He holds me closely, stroking my hair with his firm hand. A shudder passes through him, letting me know he's not untouched by what we've just been through.

  "We did what we were supposed to do," he whispers.

  The crunch of leaves alerts us to Oliver's return. "They've found a body. Just where we said it would be. It's extremely decayed, but it looks to be that of a young woman."

  Sobbing openly, I cling to Patrick and mourn the girl I never knew and the family who lost her over a jealous boyfriend. I wish I could see him. I've seen his car, his boots, and that class ring. I wish—wait!

  "Where's Evan Christian?"

  I hear a rustling from behind. "Right here, Kendall."

  "I need the pics you printed out."

  He reaches into his backpack and draws out the thick stack. I snatch them away without thanking him. I spread them on the forest floor and get on my knees to get a better look. Erin and Harper join me. The ones of Hailey and her girlfriends and parents don't matter. I toss them aside. "Come on..."

  There it is. The Holy Grail, so to speak.

  Hailey is cuddled up with a good-looking older guy who's standing next to a blue Mustang. She looks so happy and in love. He's gorgeous and knows he's scored with a babe like Hailey. My eyes move down to the worn brown hiking boots. Only one thing remains to be seen.

  "I wish I had a magnifying glass. Damnit!"

  Ranger Allen steps forward. "I've got one, miss. I have it to show the kids on tours how you can use the sun to make a spark."

  I'd totally hug this ranger if I weren't so desperate to get a closer look at this picture. I take the small glass and hold it close to the paper, pulling back slightly to look at his left hand. Sure enough, there's a ring with a red stone in the middle of it.

  The caption of the picture reads Me and Derrick at Stacey's Going-Away Party.

  "Oliver, this is the guy. His name is Derrick. I'm sure this is who killed her."

  Our host takes the picture from me and nods. "You've done a great job, Kendall. All of you, in fact. We'll let the authorities handle it now."

  Chapter Twenty-two

  THE MINI-COACH TURNS into the inn and we're greeted by Chris, Glenn, Speedy, and a couple of the cats. I'm so frickin' exhausted, it's not even funny. What happened in Yosemite completely drained every bit of energy out of me. Patrick had to help me walk back to the coach from the murder site, and once in my seat, I promptly slipped into a low-grade coma.

  But we found Hailey. We. Found. Her.

  Glenn helps me down now and pats me on the back. Chris hugs me to her. "I hear you kids accomplished quite a feat. I'm so proud of you!"

  "Thanks," I say.

  She proceeds to hug everyone; even Patrick accepts her warmth.

  "I'll have a late lunch ready in no time."

  "I'm famished," Maddie announces.

  Harper nods. "Me too, although I barely did anything out there."

  "Look," I say to her. "You were feeling Hailey's pain, too. You did help. You confirmed what other people were sensing. Don't downplay that, g'friend."

  "Where are the counselors?" Patrick asks. "I want to tell them what happened."

  Oliver's face brightens. "Then let's go to the conference room and fill them in."

  "Geesh, you think they would have been out here for the welcome wagon," Jess says a bit snarkily.

  "Yeah," Greg agrees. "It's like they're vampires. Hey! Maybe they are!"

  "Get over it, Gregory," Maddie says, ever the flirt.

  Downstairs, Mary, Heidi, Peggy, and Wisdom Walker are waiting for us. "We just got word that the police identified Hailey," Peggy says. "They're calling her parents in Calistoga."

  "That was awfully quick," Harper notes. "Doesn't it take a lot longer?"

  "Yes, it does. Sometimes weeks. But they aren't analyzing the DNA at this point. There was a wallet in the pocket of the girl's jeans with Hailey Ann Santiago's driver's license. Also, her missing-persons file mentioned an appendectomy scar and a belly ring with a dolphin on it. Both were on the corpse. It's Hailey. I'm sure of it." Oliver hangs his head and wipes away what appears to be a tear.

  I'd do the same, but I think I'm cried out. I do send prayers and sympathies out to Mr. and Mrs. Santiago, imagining what they must be going through, knowing their daughter will never come home again. Much like my Emily. How many years did my grandparents search for her? When did they give up? At least Hailey will have a proper burial and a final resting place that isn't a foot of dirt and leaves.

  Mary approaches me. "I'm very proud of you, Kendall. I know you had some hesitation when you got here at the beginning of the week. Look how far you've come. You're not just ghost hunting or cleansing people's houses, you're giving families closure. You have to keep putting yourself out there. It's what God wants you to do."

  I listen intently to the small woman who so believes in me. "I will, Mary. I promise."

  I have to get my ghost-huntress team back together and we have to keep assisting those who reach out to us. Life itself is one big walking risk. Sure, there may be a Sherry Biddison around the corner here and there. I might be hit by a MARTA train one day too. You never know. I am sure of one thing—something Loreen told me not too long ago: if I give in, then the bad guy wins. The bad guy being the woman who tried to kill her own daughter-in-law (Sherry) or the mucked-up boyfriend who murdered Hailey.

  I reach to hug Mary, but she pulls back. "No, no, dear, that's all right. That's what I'm here for."

  Geesh ... touchy much?

  "I think you deserve some rest," Mary says with a sweet smile. She looks at everyone else.
"You all do. Why don't we break for a while?"

  "Good idea," Oliver says. "Let's go eat."

  I weave my way up the stairs feeling like there's a ball and chain attached to me. I've never been so tired in my whole life, yet I'm also exhilarated that we found Hailey. The fact that there may be justice in all of this is an amazing high. No drug could ever feel like this.

  In the kitchen, I fill my plate with lunchmeats, salad, and fruit, and then I go out into the sunshine of the front courtyard for a breather on my own while everyone else settles around the large table. Fifteen minutes later, I'm full as a tick, so I lean back into the chaise longue and luxuriate in the sunshine, feeling quite at peace. Soon, the air carries an unfamiliar song tiptoeing along with the breeze. Hmmm ... Patrick is somewhere playing his guitar. I follow the melody through the front garden and down the long steps to the backyard. He's sitting on the edge of the hot tub, strumming away barehanded, his feet dangling in the water. Now, that's quite a change!

  "Well ... look at you," I say as I sneak up on him and then sit down on the rim of the Jacuzzi.

  He doesn't jump or anything, though. I'm sure he sensed my arrival. Continuing to pluck at the strings, he says, "Yeah, well, I don't seem to be so skeeved out by water anymore. There was this cute chick trying to drink in the entire Pacific Ocean yesterday and I had to leap in and save her. Sort of ... got over my phobia."

  A skitter of excitement runs up and down the length of my back when I hear him refer to me as "this cute chick" I totally want to geek out at this moment, but instead I scrutinize the tattoo on his biceps that's peeking out from his T-shirt.

  "What's the deal with the smirking ghost?" I ask.

  Patrick lifts his sleeve. "I don't know. Seemed like a good idea. I see spirits and hear them, so I thought if I made light of it, they might go away. Now I know they're part of me and my future. You should get one too."

  I toss my head back. "Me? A tattoo? Right. Like my mom wouldn't go totally postal over that!"

  "We'll go to the airport together and we'll stop at a place. Wha'd'ya say?"

  "I think you've definitely lost it!" I bend forward to get a good look at his face. "Seriously, though ... I'm proud of you, Patrick. You know, for accepting your abilities. No matter how you got them, they're part of you now."

  "Thanks, Kendall. It's still a little discombobulating. I'll get used to it, though. Knowing there are others like me makes me feel less of a freak."

  "Oh, come on," I say with a laugh. "We're all freaks."

  His laughter bubbles up from his chest and breaks forth, and he gives me a huge smile that makes my knees weak. "I suppose we are."

  My hands shake a bit and I grip them together as I speak. "The most interesting thing through all of this is that you and I have this sort of infused energy between us when we connect. I mean, I've seen a lot of stuff since my awakening. A lot. Mostly things about other people. I've never been able to pick up anything about myself—other than in dreams. It just seemed that with this case, we saw more with each other than we did apart, and I can't explain that." God, I'm rambling like an idiot.

  He twists his head and his delicious brown eyes move over my face. "We have something ... special, Kendall."

  My head drops and my hair covers my face, hopefully hiding a massive blush. Attraction and flirtation aside, I need to ask a very selfish question.

  Patrick moves in close. "You want me to help you with something?"

  I sit back slightly and rock on my hands. "Yeah. I do. I want to find out what we can see together about my birth mother, Emily, and any information on her parents, my grandparents. I mean, I've gotten snippets of names and license plates, but nothing definitive enough to say that is where they are and this is how I can find them."

  He sets his guitar aside and adjusts to face me. He spreads his hands out on his lap, palms up. I place mine in his and our fingers entwine. Immediately, I feel like I'm flying through a wormhole in time as our minds join in search of Emily Jane Faulkner and my grandparents. Spiraling and twisting through multiple memories that belong to neither of us, we come to a halt at the edge of a tranquil lake. Little St. Germain Lake, in Wisconsin, just like Emily's license plate read. There, she sits on a pontoon boat fishing with an older man. She's about my age and she's laughing and cutting up. The man is her father, John Thomas Faulkner, and he's found a lake turtle that he's hauling in with the net. A woman with short salt-and-pepper hair sits nearby sipping homemade lemonade, egging them both on. It's Emily's mother, my grandmother Anna Wynn Faulkner. I try not to allow my personal feelings to amp up at this moment as I focus on the visions before us.

  Our hands tighten and the visualization adjusts in a whooshy kind of way, like fast-forwarding a movie as quickly as possible. We're no longer in Wisconsin, but we're still next to a lake. A gorgeous, breathtaking, amazing, crystal-clear calm lake surrounded by the most fantastic scenery I've ever seen. Villas line the coast, which is covered with lazy trees. There are my grandparents. Much older than in my previous images of them. They're holding hands and sitting in ... a gondola?

  Where are they? I ask Patrick in my mind.

  Looks like Naboo.

  There's no such place.

  He snickers at me. I'm telling you, it looks like Queen Padmé Amidala's home planet in the Star Wars movies. Naboo...

  OMG! I huff a surprised breath. God bless Celia Nichols and her penchant for useless trivia. One Saturday night when we had no ghost hunt planned, we hung out at her house watching torrents of the new Star Wars movies. She told me how they'd filmed the scenes for Naboo in Italy, in the lake country.

  Lake Como? I ask Patrick. Does that sound right?

  That's it! That's where these people are.

  My grandparents are in Italy? Holy Roman Catholic Church! How in the world will I ever get to them?

  We'll find a way, Kendall.

  I like that "we" part.

  My eyes open and I realize that my cheeks are wet from crying. Happy tears, though. Joy that I know where my grandparents live. That they live. Period. Bliss that Patrick was able to help me clarify this information. Hope that I might find them. Wishfulness that Patrick and I can make this work between us.

  His hand lifts and brushes away my tears ever so gently. His dazzling eyes dance over me and we smile together.

  "Thanks for that" I say. "And thanks again for saving my life."

  He moves closer. He smells of Aquafresh and deodorant ... and yumminess. "Thanks for saving mine, Kendall."

  Our heads inch closer and closer together, like two magnets drawn toward each other. When his lips touch mine, I almost want to scream. It's the most magically soft, romantic, and sexy kiss I've ever had in my seventeen years. Patrick wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him, deepening the kiss. Mmm—this is a much better version than I experienced in my near-death experience. I never want this to stop.

  I drape myself against Patrick and hold on for dear life, kissing him back with all my might.

  And here I thought Jason Tillson could kiss.

  Umm ... Jason who?

  Chapter Twenty-three

  "WELL, THIS IS OUR LAST GROUP SESSION," Oliver says a few hours later. I've hot-tubbed, slept, and eaten the best turkey sandwich I've ever had in my life—and I'm in love again. Sad to think that this will all end tomorrow.

  Don't think about it, Kendall...

  Turning my attention to Oliver, I see him flash a real picture of Hailey Santiago from the overhead projector. "I wanted you to see the young woman you helped bring closure to. This is her senior picture, taken last fall. She would have been graduating this May and going off to Washington State University. 'So wise so young, they say do never live long.'"

  Ahhh, another Shakespeare fan. I knew I liked Oliver.

  "One of the officers shared with me that they found some DNA evidence under her fingernails that may lead to the killer. They also put out an all points bulletin for her ex-boyfriend Derrick Ingram, who fits the description
in your visions and the pictures. They can't arrest him based solely on psychic information; however, they can bring him in for questioning," Oliver informs us. "In fact, they have a lead on his last known address and are making a visit to it as we speak." Oliver shakes his head as we all gasp, whoop, high-five, and mourn.

  "At least Hailey's family can have a service for her now," Erin says quietly.

  "That they can," Oliver says. "I think we've all learned some pretty amazing things this week. If you weren't enlightened before, you certainly are now."

  "I don't wanna leave," Greg shouts out.

  "Me either," says Carl and Ricky, followed by each of the Pucketts.

  "That's an incredible compliment," Oliver says proudly. "I'll be sure to pass that along to the counselors."

  Jessica raises her hand. "Speaking of that..."

  "Yes, Jess?"

  "I'm really curious about something. Except for Wisdom Walker at the sweat lodge, the counselors don't seem to leave this room or hang out around the inn. What's their deal? Are they just totally unsociable?"

  Oliver tents his fingers in front of him. "Why don't you all meditate on that and see what you come up with?"

  They don't come to meals. They don't sleep here. Come to think of it, their clothing never changes. Why didn't I notice that before? (Because I was preoccupied with Hailey, with Patrick ... with myself.) They aren't touchy. They come and go like specters. Whoa. My eyes flutter closed, but it's not long before the clouds of understanding part in my mind and the answer to Jess's question is written in the blue sky.

  "Oh my God!" I sputter. "They're ghosts?"

  "That's impossible," Greg says. "I wouldn't be able to see them if they were."

  Oliver smiles. "Think again, Greg."

  Wisdom Walker, Peggy, Mary, and Heidi all file into the room. Spreading his hands wide, Oliver says, "I want you to meet my own spirit guides, who helped educate me through my own awakening. They have given of themselves to help me teach others to be aware of their talents and God-given abilities."