Kindred Spirits

by Jean Marie Bauhaus

“Now, I’m going to my office where Derek is waiting. You are going to stay here.”

  “I meant, what’s the plan to help Jimmy?”

  Chris shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I’m going over there later to survey the situation and figure out what he needs from me.”

  “Cool. I’ll come too.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  Ron blinked at her. “What? Why?”

  “You stay here. I’ve got this.”

  “But I told Jimmy—”

  “I said I’ve got this,” Chris insisted, ignoring her sister’s pouty look. “I’ll let you know if I need your help. Besides, you should spend some time with that hot guy you’ve got upstairs instead of taking off and leaving him high and dry.”

  Ron folded her arms. “What are you talking about?”

  “You should talk to Joe, is what I’m saying.”

  “About what?”

  “About how neglected and left out he feels.”

  She glanced up at the ceiling, and frowned. “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Oh, sure. He just loves being stuck here all alone, twiddling his thumbs while you go out and make new friends.”

  Ron frowned. “It’s not like that. I was helping.”

  Chris closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. “Ronnie,” she said, opening them again, “trust me. Just spend the day here with him, okay?”

  She gave a little shrug as if to indicate she didn’t care much either way. “Fine.”

  “Good.” Chris left her there and made her way to the office, where Derek perched on the edge of her desk, still clutching the donut box. “Sorry that took so long.”

  “No problem,” he said, standing up. “Is everything okay with your sister?”

  “It’s fine. She’s fine. Anyway, I wanted to give you this.” She went to the shelves at the back of the room, where all of her equipment was stashed. After a bit of rummaging, she took down a hard plastic box that resembled a radio and brought it to him. “Here.”

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s called a ghost box. Jimmy can use it to talk to you.”

  He set the donut box down and took the device. “How’s it work?” he asked, turning it over in his hands.

  “It’s pretty simple. Just switch it on here,” she said, showing him the power button, “and set it in the room where you think Jimmy might be. It cycles up and down along radio frequencies, and as Jimmy speaks, it will pick up words that match what he’s saying.”

  His eyebrows crept up, signaling that he was apparently still skeptical in spite of everything. Stubborn guy. “How is that even possible?”

  “I have no idea,” Chris admitted. “I just know it usually works.”

  “Usually?”

  She gave him a small shrug. “This isn’t exactly science. Nothing is absolutely certain. But when a spirit is willing and able, this thing”—she tapped the box with her finger—“can give them a voice.”

  “Well, at least we know Jimmy’s willing. If he’s still around.” He retrieved the donuts and started for the door. Chris followed to let him out. When they got there, he stopped short. “I almost forgot. When can you come by?”

  “What time’s good for you?”

  He glanced at his watch—a Seiko, she noticed. Nice, but not flashy. “I should probably try to grab a nap and a shower. What about after lunch?”

  “I’ll be there. Oh! Just a sec’.” She ducked back into her office and retrieved a business card. Returning and holding it out to him, she said, “My number. If you run into trouble, just call or text or whatever.”

  He balanced the ghost box on top of the donut box and took the card. As he did, his thumb grazed hers. The contact was purely accidental, but it sent a little frisson of something shooting through her.

  Suddenly, she was eighteen again, a gawky freshman hiding behind pink hair and heavy black eyeliner, trying to keep her cool as she explained paranormal investigation tools to the cute junior from the college paper. Her flutters had been off the charts that night. Of course, that was before he’d eviscerated her and her club in his article. Remembering Ron’s accusation, and how history had repeated itself, she jerked her hand away.

  He eyed her a good, long moment, the expression on his face inscrutable. Note to self: never play poker with this guy. Tucking the card in his jeans pocket, he asked, “Only if there’s trouble?”

  She shrugged. “What else would you want it for?” That came out more clueless than flirtatious, and she wasn’t sure she’d intended it to be either.

  He cocked his head a tiny bit to the side, as though considering the question. Then he shook his head. “I guess we’ll see what happens,” he said, and Chris wanted to ask exactly what he meant by that, but instead, she was opening the door and he was walking through it and heading down the steps.

  She just stood there and watched him walk to his car, juggling his load as he unlocked it and put everything inside. He gave her a little wave before getting in. She returned it before shutting the door and leaning against it, her mind racing to decipher his words. And failing.

  “Yeah,” she muttered. “I guess we’ll see.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ron didn’t find Joe in his usual spot on the attic sofa. The scowl she already wore grew deeper as she looked around. “Joe?” she called, and was immediately greeted with a bark from the back of the attic.

  “Back here,” he called. She followed the sound of his voice and found him standing at a small gable window, gazing out at the back yard. Buster wiggled and spun in a circle next to his feet as she approached them. She knelt to give the dog some ear scratches. “Whatcha doin’?”

  “Thinkin’. Not much else to do these days.”

  She knew the correct response was to ask what he was thinking about. She also detected a certain amount of edge in his tone that reinforced that notion. But she still smarted from her little spat with Chris, and she needed to vent before she could properly deal with his sudden turn to broodiness.

  “So Derek Brandt was downstairs.” She gave Buster one last pat before straightening up. “He came to apologize. Apparently, Jimmy got through to him.” She didn’t mean to sound so smug, but it was hard to help.

  “That so?”

  She ignored the disinterest in his voice and the fact that he didn’t even glance in her direction. “It is indeed. Score one for the big sister. Seems I knew what I was doing after all.”

  Joe scoffed. “Just ‘cause stickin’ your nose where it wasn’t wanted worked out the way you wanted, doesn’t make it right.”

  Ron folded her arms and glared at him. “What’s your problem?”

  “I don’t got a problem.” He sounded resigned. “So now, I s’pose you’ll both be going over there to spend the day gettin’ Jimmy fixed up.”

  “Not me. Chris doesn’t want me to come.”

  Finally, he looked at her and showed some interest. “Why not?”

  Ron shrugged. “She’s still mad at me.” And she thinks you are, too, she almost added, but it was becoming clear that Chris was right on that front, and Ron wasn’t ready to confront that just yet. “She’s acting like she doesn’t need me.”

  Joe turned toward her and leaned against the wall. “Need I remind you again that your sister’s a grown woman? Would it be so terrible if she didn’t need you?”

  “No,” she said, a bit petulantly, while her mind screamed, Yes!

  “And would it be so awful for you to spend the day here with me? Or am I the one ghost you can’t fix, so you’ve given up here?”

  “What are you talking about? Joe, you don’t need fixing.”

  “But you sure need something to fix, don’t you?”

  Ron looked at him like he’d sprouted a second personality. She felt tired and disappointed, not to mention irritated. Clearly, she wasn’t going to find any sympathy here. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’re not happy unless you’ve got a project.”

  “That’s not
true!” He eyed her until she broke down and admitted, “Okay, that’s a little bit true. But is there anything wrong with that?”

  “Only when you plow over the people around you to get to your goals.”

  “I don’t do that! How many times do I have to tell you and Chris that I’m helping?”

  A short, angry laugh erupted from him. “If you have to explain to someone that you’re helping them, then maybe you ain’t bein’ so helpful.”

  “But I only got involved because I knew Chris needed me to!”

  “Well, Chris ain’t the only one in this house that’s got needs!” he shouted and immediately seemed to regret it. He closed his eyes and held up placating hands. “Just…slow down and think about the people you affect before you go chargin’ off.”

  Ron stared up at him, completely at a loss. Where was this anger coming from? “This is between me and my sister. How does it affect you?”

  Again, that angry laugh. He gave her a disbelieving shake of the head before shoving his hands in his pockets and turning back to the window.

  And she knew she’d been an idiot. Of course it affected him. He was part of this family now. Part of her. She sighed. “Joe.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. Of course it matters to you what goes on with me and Chris.”

  He shrugged away from her. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  He huffed through his teeth and shook his head at the window. Ron swallowed her rising irritation and said slowly, “No, really. Explain it to me as if I were a small child. A slow one.”

  He looked over at her a moment, seeming to consider his words, then turned back to the window. “What do you see out there?”

  Ron looked out the window. “I see the back yard, and more houses.”

  “You know what I see?” She waited, and after a moment, he went on. “I see a whole world that’s shut off from me. And you get to go out in it, and I don’t begrudge you that.” He turned and looked her in the eye. “I sincerely don’t. I’m glad you have that freedom. I wouldn’t wish this purgatory on you for anything.”

  Ron started to get it, and to feel more like an idiot and a jerk as a result. “Joe, I—”

  “But have you ever even once thought about what it’s like for me to be stuck here while you go off and have some kind of… of…” He seemed to struggle for the right word. Finally, he said, “Of life?”

  Honestly, she hadn’t. And she felt terrible for it. Joe had been here for nearly a century, and since she’d died, he’d become more of a home to her than the house itself. He was always here, dependable, safe. He couldn’t move on, like the others, but it had never even occurred to her that he might want to leave. At least not until…

  Her hand flew to her forehead and she closed her eyes. “I was supposed to help you try to leave the house.” She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten. No wonder he was so upset.

  He merely shrugged. “It’s not like we had set plans or anything.”

  “I’ve been so distracted. You should have reminded me.”

  “I shouldn’t have needed to.”

  She swallowed—she knew deep down that the lump forming in her throat was just a physical memory, as much a phantom as she was, and that she was only going through the motions of swallowing, but still, it helped. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She fell silent a moment, following his gaze out to the back yard. “Anyway, why not now?”

  Joe looked at her in confusion. “Why not what now?”

  “Let’s go out.”

  Something flickered in his gaze. Was it fear? “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never been able to.”

  “None of us could, not with Sarah around.”

  “You could.”

  “Yeah, but I’m a special kind of stubborn.” That drew a smile from him. “You might not be able to cross over into the light until Judgment Day or whatever, but why does being stuck on this plane of existence mean being stuck in this house?”

  He opened his mouth as if to answer, but then closed it and frowned. Then he said, “Huh.”

  “Sarah kept you prisoner here. But with her gone, I think maybe this has been a prison of your own making.” She tugged at his arm until he freed his hand from his pocket, then laced her fingers with his. “So what do you say we bust you out?”

  He squeezed her hand appreciatively. “You might be right. But what if you’re wrong?”

  “Then I’m wrong. And if that’s the case, then I promise to be more considerate of your limitations in the future. But we won’t know unless we try.”

  “But what if—” He hesitated, seeming to chew on his words. “What if we try and I get punished?” The flicker of fear she thought she’d seen before solidified into a look of sheer terror. “What if I get zapped out of existence?”

  Ron wrapped both of her hands around his. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I just am. The universe, or God, or whoever, can’t be that cruel.”

  His mouth tightened. “I ain’t so sure about that.”

  Ron studied him a moment. It was true that fate had been especially cruel to this man. But it had generally been pretty good to her, if you didn’t count that whole “getting killed at twenty-nine” thing. Besides, she loved Joe. Taking him from her after she gave up the afterlife for him would be a special kind of cruel. It just wouldn’t happen.

  It couldn’t.

  “I’m sure.” She squeezed his hand for emphasis. “But it’s up to you. Whenever you’re ready to try, just say the word.”

  He pulled her close and wrapped her in his arms. They stood there a long time, gazing out the window. After a while, Joe relaxed his grip and leaned back a little, tilting her face up to his as he smiled at her. “Maybe fate wouldn’t object too much to a stroll around the back yard.”

  Ron returned his smile. “Then let’s go.”

  They stood on the back porch at the top of the steps with the sun shining down on them. Joe couldn’t feel its warmth, nor could he feel the breeze that made the trees sway gently, nor breathe in the fresh air, although Ron told him that the air these days wasn’t anywhere near as fresh as he remembered.

  And he did remember. Though the memory was distant, if he thought real hard, he could recall how it felt to be warmed by the sunshine, to breathe deeply and fill his lungs with clean air, to smell the scents that mingled in it—which, in his day, had included a lot of manure and other barnyard smells, but also clean hay and newly-mown grass and the honeysuckle and milkweed that grew along the fence around the yard where his girl had played. And that was almost as good as feeling it.

  The lot was small, about a fraction of the size of the original house’s yard, bound by a chain-link fence and crowded by other such yards and houses on every side. Ron stepped down onto the grass and looked back at him. “You coming?”

  He followed her as far as the bottom step. Looking down at his feet he slowly—very slowly—edged his boot over the edge. When his toes didn’t disintegrate or otherwise disappear, he took the plunge and stepped into the yard.

  Nothing happened.

  He stood there a moment, letting that sink in. So he was allowed outside of the house. Good to know.

  Ron watched him, poorly-hidden amusement pulling the corners of her mouth into a smile. “Well, you didn’t go poof.”

  “I sure didn’t.” He looked around. He might not be able to feel his surroundings but he could still see just fine, still hear the leaves rustling in the wind, the birds singing. He could also hear muffled traffic coming from the major street located a few blocks over. Somewhere, a dog barked. Then several more dogs joined in.

  Sounds of life going on all around him.

  “When I died, this whole area was a working farm with about a hundred acres of land. If we assume that I can go anywhere within the bounds of that property, that gives me quite a bit of room to roam.”

  “Yeah, well…n
ow, it’s a crowded urban neighborhood in kind of a seedy part of town. I don’t know how much roaming you’d want to do here.”

  Her description of the neighborhood surprised him. “Why on earth would your sister fix this place up and live here if it’s not a good neighborhood?”

  “Because we’re here, mainly. But there’s an urban renewal project going on in this part of town. Real estate investors are buying up houses like this and flipping them.” At his confused look, she explained, “Fixing them up and then selling them for a profit. So the neighborhood’s on it’s way up. It’ll take a few years to get there, though. Anyway, now that we’re over the first hurdle, are you game to try leaving the property?”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  She moved closer and took his hand. “We won’t know unless we try. Do you really want this”—she waved her free hand to indicate their current view—“to be your whole world?”

  “It’s already bigger than it was a minute ago. As long as you’re in it, that wouldn’t be so bad.”

  That got a smile. She didn’t give up, though. “I’m willing to bet that the way this works is, if the powers that be—who or whatever that is—don’t want you to leave, then you simply won’t leave. I’ll go and you’ll stay behind. I don’t think you’ll get blasted into oblivion just for testing your boundaries.”

  He turned that over in his mind and nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Good. So where do you want to go? I’d take you to meet Jimmy, but Chris already laid down the law where that’s concerned.”

  “Maybe she just wants the chance to get her own take on the situation. Don’t mean she won’t want your help when she’s ready for it.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, is there anywhere in particular you’d like to visit?”

  He didn’t have to think too hard to know that there was. He told her where.

  “Close your eyes and picture it,” she told him.

  “I don’t know what it looks like.”

  “It’s okay, I do. So just focus on me.”

  He followed her instructions, and after a few seconds he felt the tingly, shimmery feeling that he got whenever he transported himself from room to room.