by Reid, Terri
He took another look at them, especially the second one who had come out of nowhere. She was different. She looked past him, into his car and her eyes had widened. He glanced over his shoulder to the empty seat behind him. What had she seen?
Shaking his head, he pressed on the accelerator and turned the car down the street in the opposite direction of the school and the girls. He would be watching for them. If they tried to skip school once, he was sure they would try again. And this time, he would be more ready for them. But now, he thought with a smile spreading across his face, I need to find the other students who have skipped school today and maybe, another special one will be out there for me to add to my collection.
Chapter Nine
“Why aren’t you in school?” Mike asked, appearing next to the girls as they walked down the street toward the school.
Clarissa and Maggie both jumped when he appeared. “Hey, something’s got you spooked,” he said. “What’s up?”
An unspoken agreement passed between the girls before either one spoke. “You just scared us,” Clarissa said. “Why did you come anyway?”
Mike shrugged, eyeing the two carefully. “My spidey-sense told me you were in trouble,” he said. “What are you two up to?”
“Nothing,” Maggie said, not meeting his eyes. “We just missed the bus, so we had to walk to school and we’re late.”
“Wait, you missed the bus and you didn’t think either of your mothers would have driven you to school?” he asked. “Okay, that one is not going to fly.”
“We didn’t want to ask them,” Clarissa said, “because we wanted an adventure.”
“An adventure?” Mike asked. “That comes with skinned knees and cut hands? I don’t think so.”
“Don’t tell on us, Mike,” Maggie pleaded. “It was my fault. I wasn’t looking when I crossed the street and a car was coming. Clarissa had to pull me back and the car slammed on its brakes.”
“That’s why the lady in the car is following us to school,” Clarissa explained. “Because she wants to make sure we get there safely.”
Mike turned and looked over his shoulder at the black car that was slowly following the girls. “Okay, that’s creepy,” Mike said.
“Not as creepy as the other car,” Maggie blurted out.
“What other car?” Mike asked as Clarissa sent Maggie a look of exasperation.
“Oh, just a car we saw,” Clarissa said. “It was really weird.”
“Well, stay away from weird cars,” he lectured. “And look both ways before you cross the street. Come on, you guys aren’t kids anymore, you should know better.”
“Yes, Mike,” Maggie said. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Clarissa agreed. “We won’t do this ever again.”
Sighing, Mike walked along with them in silence for a few moments. He knew something was wrong, especially when he went into panic mode for a few minutes. He looked down at the girls, who seemed subdued but safe. Maybe it was just because Maggie had nearly been hit by the car. Perhaps he had just sensed Clarissa’s fear. He sure wished he understood this whole angel thing better.
“Okay, I’m not going to mention this to either of your parents,” Mike finally said. “I understand what it’s like to be young and stupid. But, no more adventures like this, do you promise?”
Clarissa stuck her hand behind her back and crossed her little fingers. “Promise,” she replied as earnestly as she could.
Maggie looked at Clarissa, not seeing her crossed fingers, and nodded her head. “I promise too,” she said.
They stopped in front of the school. The lady in the black car leaned out her window once more. “Now you get into that school and get to class right away,” she said. “Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Maggie replied.
Clarissa nodded sincerely. “Yes, we will.”
The black car sped down the street and the girls sighed with relief.
“You’re not out of the woods yet,” Mike said. “You still need to deal with your principal and with your parents if she decides to call them.”
“Can’t you just help us sneak in?” Clarissa asked, sending Mike a pleading look.
“Oh, sure, because that’s what angels are all about, cheating and lying,” Mike responded. “Not! You both need to accept responsibility for your actions. You made a bad choice and now you get to live with the consequences.”
“But we don’t want these consequences,” Maggie complained.
Mike shrugged. “Well, then you shouldn’t have made that choice.”
He walked them up to the door, but as soon as they put their hands on the handle, the fire alarm began to sound. Clarissa looked up at Mike. “Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t do it.”
The girls stood back as the doors burst open and class after class hurried out. When their class exited, they moved in at the end of the line, as if they had always been with the group.
“Maggie, Clarissa,” their teacher called, as she walked toward them.
The girls both held their breaths, waiting for the worst. “Yes?” Maggie asked.
“I thought I told everyone to leave their backpacks in the classroom,” she said. “In an emergency the only thing that’s important is to get to safety. Your personal belongings do not matter.”
“I’m sorry,” Clarissa said. “We didn’t hear you.”
“Well, next time I don’t want to see those backpacks.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Maggie replied.
When their teacher hurried away to deal with two boys who were shoving each other, the girls once again breathed a sigh of relief. “Even though you both got off way too easy,” Mike said. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
Clarissa nodded. “Yes, Mike, we have.”
Maggie agreed. “We’ll never do this again,” she said. “We promised.”
The return bell sounded over the loudspeakers in the playground.
“Looks like you just got the all clear,” Mike said. “Now behave yourselves.”
As soon as Mike disappeared, Clarissa turned to Maggie. “Next time we go, we’re going to have to figure out a better plan.”
“Next time?” Maggie replied, astonished. “We promised we would never do this again. We promised to an angel.”
Shaking her head, Clarissa smiled and lifted her hand with her crossed fingers. “I had my fingers crossed,” she said. “So I didn’t promise.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Maggie countered. “So we can’t go!”
“You can’t go,” Clarissa argued. “I still can.”
“Clarissa, we almost had a stranger take us. It’s not safe.”
“He didn’t almost get us. We got away,” she said. “Besides, we’ll never see him again.”
“I’m not going,” Maggie stated firmly.
“I’ll just go without you then,” Clarissa countered.
“But you can’t see if your dad is there without me,” Maggie said.
Clarissa stared at Maggie for a moment, her lips tight and her hands clenched in fists. “If you don’t come, I’ll never be your friend again,” she shouted, turning and hurrying toward the school door without Maggie.
Maggie stood alone for a moment, remembering the ghosts inside the man’s car. All of them were pounding on the windows, tears flowing from their eyes and pleading with Maggie to help them escape. She was more afraid than she had ever been. That man was too dangerous. “Clarissa, wait,” Maggie called, moving after her. “You have to listen to me.”
Chapter Ten
Mary unlocked the door to her office, walked in and looked around with a look of satisfaction on her face. She couldn’t imagine life getting any better than it was. She had a wonderful career, an amazing husband who adored her and a new daughter who was nearly perfect. And now, with the drama and worry of the past months over, she could finally just live her life.
Walking to her desk, she put her briefcase down and slipped out of her coat. A quick knock on the door had her turning a
round and smiling. Stanley was strolling through the front door with a white paper box in his hands. Her smile widened as she saw the familiar logo of Coles’ Bakery.
“So, girlie, you interested in one of these chocolate éclairs?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“I really shouldn’t,” she said.
“Yeah, but you want to,” he coaxed.
“I really do,” she confessed. “And for some reason, I’m just starving today.”
Walking to her desk, he sat on one of the chairs and put the box down. “Well, you know, you’ve been through a lot of changes in your life lately,” he said, as he untied the twine that kept the box closed. “And that causes stress. And that burns up calories. And that makes you hungry.”
He reached in, pulled out a six-inch éclair loaded with whipped filling and covered with dark chocolate and handed it to her. “And that’s why you need to eat this.”
Mary took a bite and closed her eyes in bliss as the flaky pastry, smooth cream and dark chocolate slid over her taste buds and down her throat. “Oh, Stanley,” she said, “This is just heavenly.”
Stanley lifted the other one out of the box and took a bite. “Yeah, it ain’t too bad, is it?” he asked through a mouthful of pastry. “Wonder if Rosie can make these?”
Mary took another bite and wiped the excess filling from her chin. “So, why isn’t Rosie baking these for you?” she asked. “I’d bet you haven’t stepped through the doorway of Coles’ since you got married.”
Nodding, as he took another bite, he swallowed before he answered. “Rosie’s got some important real estate seminar in Chicago,” he said. “So, I’m by myself for a couple of days.”
“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?” she asked, licking the frosting from her fingers.
Wiping his face with a paper napkin, he shook his head as he stood up. “Naw, this is your first night as a normal family,” he said. “You need to be alone. ’Sides, Rosie cooked me up a bunch of casseroles and iffen I don’t eat them, she’ll be put out.”
Mary picked up another napkin, sat back in her chair and wiped the traces of the treat off her face too. “It’s nice to have someone worry about you, isn’t it?” she asked.
He smiled down at her. “We done good, you and me,” he said. “We found soul mates. Not everyone gets that.”
“Yes, you’re right,” she agreed, sighing with satisfaction. “And we get to live happily ever after.”
Stanley chortled. “Girlie, you’ve read too many of those fairy tales,” he said. “You want to know why they always end the story right after the prince and the princess gets married?”
“Why?” she asked.
“’Cause the rest of their lives is just plain ugly,” he said.
“Stanley!” she scolded. “I can’t believe you said that. Being married to Rosie isn’t ugly.”
“I ain’t saying it is,” he said. “But the being married part, the putting two people together and trying to act like one. The making of a good marriage – it ain’t purty. It’s like making sausage, it’s ugly, but it’s worth it.”
Crossing her arms, she shook her head. “I think you’re pretty cynical,” she said.
“Nope, just realistic,” he replied. “After the twitterpated part wears off, you start seeing stuff that you didn’t pay attention to before.”
“Stuff?”
“Like he always leaves the top off the toothpaste and doesn’t clean up after himself in the bathroom,” he suggested, his right eyebrow lifting toward his forehead.
“Okay, well, yes, he might do that,” she said. “But I just think it’s cute.”
“Course you do, you’re still twitterpated,” he replied. “But when that first goofy love settles down to a real, deep love, then you start looking at him like a partner and things start bugging you.”
Worried, she sat forward and placed her head on her hands. “Bugging me?”
“Yeah, and bugging him too,” he said.
“There is nothing about me that would bug Bradley,” she said instantly. “He loves me too much.”
“Now there you go, girlie, mistaking love for human nature,” he said. “Course he loves you. Course he’d die for you. Course you’re the only woman for him. But, you’re a woman and he’s a man, you don’t think the same way and you don’t act the same way. There’s gonna be some bumps in the road.”
“So, what do I do?” she asked.
“You gotta remember he don’t think like you and he don’t see stuff the way you do,” he said, his voice softening as he spoke. “You just gotta talk to him when something hurts your feelings. Let him know how you feel. Don’t get angry with him for being a man, he can’t help that, but explain to him how you’re feeling about things.”
She plopped back against her chair. “So, there is no happily-ever-after?”
Stanley reached forward and patted her hand. “Sure there is, girlie,” he said. “It just don’t happen by itself. It takes two people working hard together, respecting each other and thinking about the other person first, that makes it happen.”
“I can do that,” she said hopefully.
“If anyone can do that, you can,” Stanley replied with confidence as he stood up. “Now, I gotta go to the store and make sure those youngsters are keeping busy.”
Mary smiled, picturing the fifty-year-old youngsters Stanley was referring to. “Don’t let them get away with lollygagging,” she laughed.
Winking at her, he stopped at the door before leaving. “Don’t worry, you got lots of time ’fore the twitterpated part ends. Lots of time.”
Chapter Eleven
A few minutes after Stanley left, Mary heard the bell jingle again. She looked up to see a woman enter the office.
“Hi, can I help you?” Mary asked, standing and walking around her desk.
Hesitant, the woman took a deep breath and finally nodded. “My name is Celia Rasmussen and I hope you can help me.”
Quickly assessing the woman, Mary decided she was probably in her late forties, but she was carrying a burden that made her seem older. She looked exhausted, but Mary could tell it was a chronic fatigue that had lasted many years. She wondered if the woman was sick.
“Hello, Mrs. Rasmussen,” she said, guiding her to a chair next to her desk. “Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?”
Moving to the other side of the desk, she sat in her chair, her expression patient and open, and waited.
“I feel like I’ve given up by coming to you,” Celia said bluntly.
“Given up?” Mary asked. “In what way?”
“Eight years ago my daughter was kidnapped,” Celia explained. “There were no clues, no explanations, no leads and we never found her.”
“I am so sorry,” Mary said.
Acknowledging Mary’s comment with a nod, she picked up the manila folder she had on her lap and handed it to her. Mary opened the file and saw a printout of a pixelated photo. “What am I looking for?” she asked.
Celia stood up and leaned over the desk, pointing to a small area in the photo where brush and trees overlapped. “See. In here,” she said, indicating a deviation in the colors of the leaves. “If you look closely, you can see Courtney’s face.”
Mary pulled a magnifying glass out of her desk drawer and studied the photo. There was difference in the photo that had nothing to do with sunlight and shade. There seemed to be a girl’s face in the midst of the trees. “When was this taken?” she asked.
“Last week,” Celia said, “during a softball tournament at the park. It was in the background of the shot, that’s why it’s so blurry. But it’s Courtney, I can tell.”
“I have to be honest and tell you this photo is so pixelated it’s hard to tell what this is, let alone pick out features,” Mary began. “I don’t know…”
“A mother knows her own daughter,” Celia interrupted. “Do you think I would mistake my own daughter?”
It only took Mary a moment to respond. “No, I don
’t think you would,” she agreed. “I think a mother’s intuition is one of the strongest forces on earth.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Celia sat back in her chair. “Thank you,” she said.
“But why haven’t you brought this to the police?” Mary asked.
“Because they don’t have time or resources to deal with fairly vague leads on an eight-year-old case,” she said openly. “I don’t blame them; I just have to look for other options.”
Picking up the magnifying glass again, Mary peered back down at the photo. The shot was so bad it looked like you could see through the face to the trees behind her. As soon as that thought went through her head, she froze and looked up at Celia.
“Why did you choose me for your option?” Mary asked softly.
Celia swallowed and took a deep shuddering breath. “I think you know,” she said, meeting Mary’s eyes directly. “But, I’m afraid…”
Laying the magnifying glass to the side of the desk, Mary met the woman’s eyes. “Now, I need to tell you a little bit about myself before we continue.”
“Okay,” Celia replied hesitantly.
“I used to work for the Chicago Police Department and during that time I was shot in the line of duty.”
“Oh, that must have been horrible for you,” Celia gasped. “Were you hurt badly?”
“I died,” Mary said. “And then I had the most unusual conversation. I was told that I had a choice, I could continue on to the light or I could come back and be with my friends and family. Only this time, my time on earth would be different.”
“Different? In what way?” Celia asked.
“Different because now I can see and communicate with ghosts,” Mary replied softly.
“Most people think there are no such things as ghosts,” Celia said, a flicker of hope glowing in her eyes. “People don’t believe in ghosts.”
Mary shrugged. “That’s true,” she said. “Many people don’t believe in ghosts, until they have an encounter of their very own and that somehow, quickly, changes their mind.”
“They say ghosts are evil,” she said. “Do you believe that?”
