by Meg Cabot
Jesse finally looked at me like he was really seeing me, maybe for the first time since he'd come into the room.
"You really went back?" He stared at me. "To the past? My past?"
I nodded. What was there to say?
He shook his head. "And Paul? I went to the basilica to look for him, but he was gone. You followed him?"
I nodded again.
"I wanted to stop him," I said. "From . . . from keeping you from dying. But in the end . . . I couldn't, Jesse. It wasn't right. What Diego did to you. I couldn't let it happen again. So I told you. And you killed him. You killed Diego. But then there was the fire and . . ." I looked down at the figure in the bed. I couldn't stifle a sob. "And now I think this is good-bye. I'm sorry, Jesse. I'm so, so sorry."
My vision clouded over again with tears. I couldn't believe any of this was happening. I had always thought of my "gift" as a curse, but never, never had I hated it as much as I did just then. I wished I had never heard of mediators. I wished I had never seen a single ghost. I wished I had never been born.
Then I felt Jesse's hand on my cheek.
"Querida," he said.
He placed his other hand on the bed to balance himself as he leaned across it to kiss me. One last kiss before he was ripped from me forever. I closed my eyes, anticipating the feel of those cool lips against mine. Good-bye, Jesse. Goodbye.
His mouth had barely touched mine, however, when I heard him gasp. He jerked his head from mine and looked down.
His hand had touched his living body's leg.
Something seemed to jolt through him, then. He flared more brightly for a second, his gaze on mine more intense than it had ever been in all the time I'd known him.
And then he was sucked down into his body, like smoke pulled into a fan.
And was gone.
Oh his body was still there. But the ghost of Jesse - the ghost I had loved - was gone. In his place was. . . .
Nothing. I reached out, desperate to grab some small piece of him, but my hand clutched only air.
Jesse was gone. He was truly gone. He was back inside the body he'd left so long ago . . . the body that, even as I watched, shuddered all over as if to reject the soul that had just entered it. . . .
Then went still as death.
I knew then what had happened. Jesse's body had come forward through time, yes. But not his soul, because two of the same souls could not exist in the same dimension. Jesse's body had been without a soul just as, for so many years, Jesse's soul had been without a body.
Now the two were united at last. . . .
But too late. And now I was going to lose them both.
I don't know how long I must have stood there, holding Jesse's hand, gazing down at him in utter despair. Long enough, I know, that Father Dominic came back, and said, "Don't worry, Susannah, it's all taken care of. Jesse will get the tests he needs."
"It doesn't matter," I murmured, still holding his hand . . . his cold hand.
"Don't give up hope, Susannah," Father Dominic said. "Never give up hope."
I let out a bitter laugh. "And why is that, Father D?"
"Because it's all we have, you know." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "You did what you did because you loved him, Susannah. You loved him enough to let him go. There's no greater gift you could have given him."
I shook my head, my vision still blurred with tears.
"That's not how it's supposed to go, Father Dominic."
"What's not, Susannah?" he asked gently.
"The saying. It's supposed to be, If you love something, set it free. If it was meant to be, it will come back to you. Don't you know? Haven't you read it?"
When I looked up at Father Dominic to see what he thought of this, I saw that he wasn't even looking at me. He was staring down at Jesse on the bed. Father Dominic's blue eyes, I noticed, were as tear-filled as my own.
"Susannah," he said in a strangled voice. "Look."
I looked. And as I moved my head, felt the fingers of the hand I was holding suddenly tighten around mine.
Color that hadn't been there a minute before had flooded Jesse's face. His face was no longer the same color as the sheets. His skin was the same olive tone it had been when I'd first seen him, back in the O'Neils' barn.
And that wasn't all. His chest was rising and falling visibly now beneath the blanket that covered him. A pulse thrummed visibly in his neck.
And, as I stood there, staring down at him, his eyelids lifted . . .
. . . and I was falling, as hard as I did every time he looked at me, into the deep dark pools that were Jesse's eyes . . eyes that weren't just seeing me, but knew me. Knew my soul.
He lifted the hand I wasn't clutching, plucked aside the oxygen mask that had been covering his nose and mouth, and said just one word.
But it was a word that set my heart singing.
"Querida."
Chapter twenty-one
"Suze!"
I heard my mothers voice calling from downstairs.
"Suze!"
I was sitting at my dressing table, admiring my blowout. CeeCee and I had spent the afternoon getting our hair and nails done. CeeCee hadn't needed a blow-out . . . her white-blonde hair is straight on its own. But she'd gotten an updo, then fretted all afternoon that it wouldn't hold.
My blow-out, however, apparently had staying power, because my hair looked as dark and shimmery as it had when I'd stepped from the salon.
"Suze!" my mom called a third and final time.
I glanced at the clock. I'd made him wait nearly five minutes. That seemed long enough.
"Coming," I yelled and grabbed my evening bag and the filmy white stole that went with my dress.
I went to my bedroom door and threw it open. Coming up the stairs as I was about to head down them was Jake, carrying a heavy backpack filled with books. From the library.
"Has hell frozen over?" I asked him as he went by me on his way to his room.
"Don't start with me, I've got finals," he growled. Then, just as he was to the door of his room, he turned and, with all apparent sincerity, said, "Nice dress," and disappeared into the confines of his bachelor cave.
I couldn't help smiling. It was the first compliment I'd ever managed to wring from Jake.
I started down the stairs, one hand lifting the hem of my gown. They were the exact same stairs, I realized, as the ones Mrs. O'Neil had chased me down about, oh, 150-something years ago. I wondered if, in my current ensemble, she'd have mistaken me for a hoochie mama. Somehow, I doubted it.
It's nice, I thought, that we have stairs like this. Stairs a girl can really make an entrance on. I got to the last landing, the one that basically served as a stage for girls who were going to their first Winter Formal to pivot and show off their dress to the people waiting in the living room, and paused, preparing to do just that.
But it was no use. I saw that at once. My stepfather was running around with a spoon filled with something green, urging everyone he encountered to taste it, just taste it. My mom was trying to figure out how her new digital camera worked and not doing the world's best job at it. My youngest stepbrother, David, was talking a mile a minute to my date about some new advances in aeronautics he'd seen on the Discovery Channel.
And Max, the family dog, had his nose buried in the front of my date's tuxedo pants.
I guess it was a pretty typical familial scene, one that I'm sure occurs in millions of homes every night.
So why did tears spring to my eyes at the sight of it?
Oh, not at Andy and his spoon, or my mom and her camera, or David and his complete conviction that anyone wanted to hear the entire transcript of the show he'd watched.
No, it was the fact that the family dog kept thrusting his nose into inappropriate places on my date, and that my date had to keep shoving Max away, that made the tears well up.
Because Max could smell my date. Max could finally smell Jesse.
David noticed me standing there on the landing f
irst. His voice trailed off and he dried up, and just stood there staring. After a minute, everyone was staring.
I hastily blinked my tears away. Especially when Max rushed over and tried to thrust his big furry head beneath my skirt.
"Oh, Susie," my mom cooed and to everyone's surprise - especially her own - managed to snap a picture. "You look beautiful."
Andy, spying another victim, raised his spoon toward me, but my mother cut him off at the pass.
"Andy, don't you go near her with that stuff while she's in that dress," she warned.
That made me smile. When I looked at Jesse, I saw he was smiling, too. A secret smile, just for me - even though now, of course, everyone else could see it, too.
It still took my breath away, same as ever.
"So," I said as casually as I could with a giant lump in my throat. But this one was from joy. "I see you've met Jesse."
Andy summed up their introduction in two words before heading back to the kitchen with his spoon. "He'll do."
My mother was beaming. "So nice to meet you," she said to Jesse. "Now come down here, I want to get your picture together."
I came down the rest of the stairs and went to stand by Jesse's side in front of the fireplace. He looked so tall and handsome in his tux, I could hardly stand it. I didn't even care that my mother was completely mortifying me in front of him. I guess those kind of things don't really matter when you nearly lose your reason for living, then get it back again, against all odds.
"This is for you," Jesse said when I came close enough. He handed me something he'd been holding. It was a single white orchid, the kind you usually only see at funerals. Or on graves.
I took it from him with a wry smile. Only he and I realized the flower's significance. To my mother, who came rushing over to pin it to my dress before she took the picture, it was just a corsage.
"Now, say cheese," she said and took the picture, thankfully without actually making us say it.
Andy reemerged from the kitchen, this time without his spoon, and started looking parental.
"Now, you have her home by midnight, understand, young man?" he said, clearly enjoying being father to a girl instead of a boy for a change.
"I will, sir," Jesse replied.
"One," I said to Andy.
"Twelve thirty," Andy countered.
"Twelve thirty," I agreed. I'd only argued because, well, that's what you do. It didn't really matter what time Jesse had to bring me home by. Not when we had our whole lives together ahead of us.
"Suze," my mom whispered as she fussed with my shawl, "we like him, don't get us wrong. But isn't he a little, well, old for you? After all, he's in college - Jake's age."
If only she knew.
"That makes us about even," I assured her. "Girls mature faster than boys."
Brad chose that moment to come barreling in from the TV room, where he'd been playing video games. When he saw we were still in the doorway, his face twisted with annoyance.
"Haven't you guys left yet?" he demanded and stormed back into the kitchen.
I looked at my mother.
"I see what you mean," she said and patted me on the back. "Have a nice time."
Outside in the crisp evening air, Jesse looked over his shoulder to make sure my parents weren't watching. Then he took my hand.
"Between doing that again and an eternity in hellfire," he said, "I'd take the hellfire."
"Well, you'll never have to do it again," I said with a laugh. "Now that they know you. And besides, they liked you."
"Your mother didn't," Jesse assured me.
"Yes, she did," I said. "She just thinks you're a little old for me."
"If only she knew," Jesse said, voicing, as he so often did, exactly what I'd been thinking.
"Your stepfather, on the other hand, invited me to dinner tomorrow night."
"Sunday dinner?" I was impressed. "He really must like you."
We'd reached Jesse's car - well, really, it was Father Dom's car. But Father D was letting Jesse borrow it for the occasion. Not, of course, that Jesse had a license. Father Dom was still working on getting him a birth certificate . . . and a Social Security card . . . and school transcripts, so he could start applying for colleges and for student loans.
But, the good father had assured us, it wouldn't be hard. "The church," he'd said, "had ways."
"Madam," Jesse said, opening the front passenger door for me.
"Why, thank you," I said, and slid in.
Jesse went around to the driver's seat, slid into it, then reached for the ignition.
"You're sure you know how to drive one of these things?" I asked him, just to make sure.
"Susannah." Jesse started the engine. "I did not sit idly by eating bonbons for the 150 years I was a ghost. I did make a few observations now and then. And I most definitely know - " He started backing the car out of the driveway. " - how to drive."
"Okay. Just checking. Because I could always take over if you need - "
"You will sit where you are," Jesse said, turning onto Pine Crest Road without nearly hitting the mailbox, which was something even I, a driver with an actual license, rarely managed to do, "and look pretty, as a young lady ought to."
"Wait, which century is this?"
"Humor me," he said, looking pained. "I'm doing it for you, in this monkey suit."
"Penguin."
"Susannah."
"I'm just saying. That's what it's called. You need to get hip with the lingo if you're going to fit in."
"Whatever," Jesse said in such a perfect imitation of - well, me - that I was forced to mock punch him in the arm.
I sat and looked pretty for the entire rest of the two-mile ride to the Mission. When we got there, I even waited and let him come around to open the car door for me. Jesse thanked me, mentioning that his male ego had taken enough blows over the past week.
I knew what he meant and didn't blame him a bit for feeling that way. He had basically walked out of the Carmel Hospital a man newly born, without a past, at least, not one that was going to help him in this century, without family - except for me, of course, and Father Dominic - and without a cent to his name. If it hadn't been for Father Dominic, in fact, who knew what might have happened? Oh, I suppose my mom and Andy might have let him move in with us. . . .
But they wouldn't have been wild about it. But Father Dominic had found Jesse a small - but clean and nice - apartment, and he was looking into a job. College would come later, after Jesse had studied for and taken the SATs. But when we ran into Father D at the entrance to the dance - it was being held in the Mission courtyard, which had been transformed for the occasion into a moonlit oasis, complete with white fairy lights twisted around every palm tree and multicolored gels over the lights in the fountain - he pretended he and Jesse were meeting for the first time, for the sake of Sister Ernestine, who was standing nearby.
"Very nice to meet you," Father Dominic said, shaking Jesse's hand.
Jesse was unable to keep a smile from his face. "Same with you, Father," he said.
After Sister Ernestine left with a sniff at my dress - I suppose she'd been waiting for me to show up in something slit to my navel, not the very demure white Jessica McClintock number I was wearing instead - Father Dominic dropped the pretense and said to Jesse, "I have good news. The job's come through."
Jesse looked excited. "Really? What is it? When do I start?"
"Monday morning, and though the pay won't be much, it's something I think you'll be unusually well-suited for - giving talks about old Carmel at the Historical Society Museum. Do you think you can stand to do that for a while? Until we can get you into medical school, anyway?"
Jesse's grin seemed - to me, anyway - even more brilliant than the moon.
"I think so," he said.
"Excellent." Father Dominic pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled at us. "Have a nice evening, children."
Jesse and I assured him we would, then went into the dance.
/> It wasn't any mid-nineteenth-century ball or anything, but it was still very nice. There were punch and cookies and chaperones. And okay, there was also a DJ and a smoke machine, but whatever. Jesse seemed to be enjoying himself, especially when CeeCee and Adam came up to us, and he was able to shake both their hands and say, "I've heard a lot about you both."
Adam, who'd had no idea about Jesse's existence, scowled.
"Can't say I can return the compliment," he said.
But CeeCee, who'd turned pale as her dress when she heard me say Jesse's name, was more friendly. Or at least enthusiastic.
"B-but," she stammered, looking from Jesse's face to mine and then back again, "are - aren't you - "
"Not anymore," I said to her and, though she still looked confused, she smiled.
"Well," she said. Then, more loudly, "Well! That's wonderful!"
That's when I noticed her aunt standing nearby, chatting with Mr. Walden.
"What's she doing here?" I asked CeeCee.
Adam laughed and, before CeeCee could say a word, explained, "Mr. Walden's chaperoning. And guess who he brought as his date?"
"They aren't dating," CeeCee insisted. "They're just friends."
"Right," Adam said with a grin.
"Suze." CeeCee pulled her lace shawl more tightly over her bare shoulders. "Come to the ladies' room with me?"
"I'll be right back," I said to Jesse.
"How - " CeeCee began as soon as she'd dragged me into the ladies.
But she couldn't get out anything more than that, because a bunch of giggling freshmen came in and crowded around the mirror over the sink, checking their hair.
"I'll tell you someday," I said to her with a laugh.
CeeCee screwed up her face. "Promise?"
"If you'll tell me how it's going with Adam."
CeeCee sighed and checked out her own reflection. "Dreamy," she said. Then looked at me. "It is for you, too. I can tell by your face."
"Dreamy's a good word for it," I said.
"I thought so. Well, come on. No telling what Adam might be saying to him."
We turned to leave just as the bathroom door swung open, and Kelly Prescott came in. She shot me a supremely dirty look, which I didn't understand until she was followed by Sister Ernestine, who had a measuring tape in her hand. That's when I saw the slit in Kelly's designer gown. It was much higher than the regulation knee-length.
