The spirit was an older man and must have died sometime in the eighties because his clothes reminded me of what my dad wore back then. Dressed in a black and gray pinstriped suit with massive shoulder pads—the shoulder pads were the big eighties giveaway—with one side of the jacket crossing over the other to button, I felt like I'd stepped back in time. My chest ached at the thought of him waiting thirty years to connect with someone on this side. Had he not found another psychic medium to help, or like my mother, did he come and go as he pleased? I knew I’d never figure that stuff out, and let the thought pass. I caught his eye and flicked my head toward my car, urging him to follow me there, which he did.
I pulled out one of my ear buds and swiped on my phone's screen, pretending to make a call. I may have been okay with my gift, but it wasn't something I was ready to share with the world. "I'm gonna guess you're looking for me," I said.
"Yes. I'm told you can help me."
Even though the suit made it pretty obvious, I had to ask. "Did you pass sometime in the eighties?"
The spirit nodded. "1985."
"It's 2014. Have you been here, waiting this whole time to connect?"
"I have not felt the need until now," he said.
That didn't exactly answer my question, but I let it pass. "My name is Angela." I grabbed my water bottle from the car and took a swig.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Angela. I'm Lou Sassole."
I spit the water out. "Did you just say—"
He interrupted me. "You heard it correctly."
I rubbed my mouth, pushing back the smile that threatened to take over my face. "Lou Sassole. Wow, that's messed up." That slipped from my lips before I could stop it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."
"Builds character. Thankfully I didn't give my son the name to carry on."
I chewed on my bottom lip. "That was wise."
"After fifty-seven years I've heard it all. My parents were from a different time, when discussing the private parts of our bodies was taboo."
"Lou Sassole. Wow." I could have kicked myself for repeating it, but I still couldn't believe someone would name their kid that. "I'm sorry. Please, tell me what I can do for you."
He shifted toward the three women. "The blond, she's my daughter. Pam Ryan." He faced me again. "You know her, yes?"
"Enough to say hello mostly, but not much more than that."
He dropped his head. "I understand."
I held up my palm, and then pulled it back quickly. I glanced at the women but none appeared to notice. "Oh, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm not saying I can't help you. I just meant I don't really know her."
The spirit was very formal and showed little emotion. He reminded me of the people I'd met at business dinners with my dad. "Very well then. I must ask you to tell my daughter about her brother."
"Okay, but I'm going to need a little more than that."
"Of course. Her brother has passed."
Word about the death of a loved one usually made its rounds throughout a family pretty quick, so I was flummoxed. "Wouldn't she already know that?"
He shook his head. "Alan did not have a wife or children. No family to speak of, so no one to tell her. He was mentally ill and had been living on the streets for many years. They have not talked since my passing, but she needs to know. She needs to give him a proper burial."
My shoulders slumped. I much preferred delivering news about hidden money and baby congratulations to depressing stuff like that. "I'm sorry for your loss." Then I realized it probably wasn't a loss for him since he'd get to be with his son. "Er, uh, should I say congratulations to you, instead?"
He did the one dip nod thing again. "I have mixed feelings. Alan's life on earth was hard, but his soul is well now and for that I am grateful."
"Good to know." I dropped my hands to my sides and shook them, releasing the tension that always built up when presented with a spirit. I wasn't thrilled to have to talk to a mom in Josh's lacrosse circle, but I'd learned my gift was just that, a gift, and it wasn't for me, it was for people like Pam Ryan. So I sucked it up and prepared to do what needed to be done. "All righty then. Let's do this." I pushed my shoulders back and walked over to the three women with Lou Sassole, the poorly named spirit, floating by my side.
After a brief superfluous chat with the three moms, I found an opening. Pushing my angst and trepidation aside, I made my move. "Hey Pam. You're the mom that sells the sportswear for the team, right?"
She gave my black running shorts and matching tank top the once over. "Yes, have you ordered any?"
"I meant to, but I haven't. Do you have an order form handy? I'd like to do it before I forget."
"Yes, I've got one in my car. Walk over with me and you can look at the catalog, too."
I was going to kill two birds with one stone—relay a message from spirit and get my lacrosse stuff ordered—and was quite proud of myself for it, too. I was the queen of multi-tasking.
She handed me the catalog and order form and gave me the once over again. I was tempted to ask what her problem was but I'd found being rude before telling someone you're talking to their dead loved one didn't instill trust.
"You can either write a check or put your card information on the form, whichever is easier," she said.
"No problem."
She got a full two minutes of Angela-critiquing in while I studied form. I hoped that was enough.
"Um, so." The first part of telling someone I was conversing with his or her dead family member was always the hardest. "I know I don't really know you, or any of the other women for that matter, but I'd like to talk to you about something."
She swiveled her head toward the women we'd just left and then back to me. "Is it about Camden, Sheila's son, because we were just talking about him earlier. Everyone is tired of his attitude."
Poor Sheila. Not only did she have a son with an attitude, but they were both the objects of rec league prattle. Lacrosse moms could be as competitive as their sons, and even though I didn't know Sheila or Camden, I empathized with them both. "No, it's not. Actually, it's uh…it's about you."
"About me?" Her head flinched back and she pressed a palm to her chest. "What do you mean?"
I fidgeted with my phone. "It's nothing bad, well, I guess it's sort of bad but it's not really about you. It's—"
She interrupted me. A trait she must have gotten from her father. "I'm not sure what you're trying to say, but—"
It was my turn to interrupt her. "I'm making this worse, so I'm just gonna say it." I pushed my heels into the ground. "Your brother Alan passed away and your father wants you give him a proper burial." I held my chin up and raised one side of my mouth. "I'm sorry for your loss."
Pam's mouth dropped. "I'm…you know my brother? He's dead? My father died years ago. What do you mean he wants me to know?"
This wasn't going as well as I'd hoped. Bringing my gift into an important part of my personal life, one that could easily send the news pinging through every cell phone tower in the state, needed to be handled with care and tact, two things I clearly lacked at that moment. I ran my hand through my hair. "No, I don't know your brother. And I know that your father passed in 1985."
She flinched. "How would you know that? He died in Wisconsin."
I pinched the top of my nose, hoping to ward off a migraine. "I know your brother's dead and when your father passed because your father told me."
"Excuse me?"
Her face reddened and I knew I was losing her. "Pam, I'm a psychic medium, and your father, Lou Sassole, is here. He came to me so I could deliver his message about your brother." I was proud of myself for not laughing when I said the spirit's name.
"Alan," the spirit said. "My son's name is Alan."
"Alan Sassole," I repeated, grateful his name didn't reference any body parts.
Her head veered from left to right, and then she swiveled her entire body in a one-eighty, searching behind her. "Is this some kind of joke?"
I shook my head. "No, it's not a joke. I promise. Your dad is here and he wanted me to tell you that your brother Alan passed. He said you've not been in contact with your brother since your dad died and that Alan was mentally ill."
"I…I…my father is here?" She scanned the area again, and then pointed a finger to the ground. "Like right here, now? Where we're standing?"
I nodded.
"Like, right now? Right here?"
Apparently my head nod wasn't confirmation enough. "He's wearing a black and gray pinstriped suit with really big shoulder pads." I gave Lou a shoulder shrug. "Sorry, I know that was the style when you passed, but I'm just not used to seeing it now."
"I understand."
Pam's mouth gaped. "Are you talking to him right now? To my father? Where is he?"
I pointed to her right. "He's hovering there."
She peeked over to her right, and stared right through her father. He raised a hand to the side of her face and she must have felt his energy because she pressed her own hand onto the same place.
"You're feeling the energy from his hand. He just put it close to your face in that very spot."
She touched the spot again. "I felt like a vibration or something on my skin." Tears pooled in her eyes. "Oh my God. He's here, isn't he?"
Several sarcastic comments flew through my head but I kept them to myself and just nodded.
Pam tried to hold it together but couldn't. She pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped the tears that had pooled in the corners of her eyes.
I was a sucker when it came to reuniting spirit and their loved ones. "Do you have another one of those?" I asked, pointing to the tissue.
She pulled one from her purse and I used it to wipe my own tears. I relayed Lou's messages to his daughter, explaining how her brother passed, and where his body was. "I'm truly sorry for your loss."
"I lost my brother the day Dad died."
"He was very ill," Lou said. "We did everything we could but nothing seemed to help him. Please tell her he is at peace now, that he is well."
I did.
"Can he hear me?" she asked.
"Yes."
She wiped her palms on her tennis skirt. "This is so strange."
"You have no idea," I said.
"Dad? Do you see Austin, my baby? He's so much like you, Daddy. So much. I tell him about you all the time, too. I wish you were still here to see him. You two would be the best of friends."
"I see him," Lou said. "He's a good boy. Smart and respectful, just like his mother." He hovered close to Pam. "I love you, Pam. You've made me a proud father and grandfather. I'll always be in your heart, but it's time for me to go now, to be with your brother. We have a lot of catching up to do. One day, we'll be together again. I promise." He turned toward me. "You'll tell her?"
I nodded. "I will."
"Thank you," he said, and then he shimmered away.
Pam gasped, and pressed her hand to her chest. "He's gone, isn't he? I can tell."
"Yes, he's gone. He said you make him proud, both as a dad and a grandfather."
She used the tissue on her eyes again and then crumbled it into a ball in her fist. "I don't know what to say. I had no idea that you—"
I stopped her. "It's not something I like to advertise," I said. "I just help when the need arises."
She pulled me to her and hugged me tightly. My stomach lurched. I hated hugs, especially from people I barely knew. I didn't do touchy-feely with anyone except close friends and relatives.
Pam's eyes widened. "Do you do group sessions?"
I wasn't sure what she'd meant. "Huh?"
"Group sessions? You know, where a group of people get together and you connect them with people they've lost."
I stepped back, shaking my head. "Oh, no. No, I don't do that. I don't try to contact spirits," I said, not mentioning my mother, who I didn't factor into that situation. "They contact me. I don't…I don't…no, I don't do parties or anything."
Her shoulders sank. "Oh, well that's too bad. You could make a killing doing that."
I imagined her texting all of her friends and giving them the psychic medium mom from Austin's lacrosse team's phone number. My pulse shot from normal to get-to-the-hospital-no. I hoped the panic I felt wasn't obvious. "Pam, I really need you to keep this between us, please. I don't do it for money, and I don't offer it to just anyone. I only help when a spirit asks, and it's not something I want made public. Do you understand?"
She nodded. "Oh, yes. Of course, I completely get it."
"Thank you. I'd like to keep my family as normal as possible."
The fake smile that spread across her face sent sirens off in my head. Pam knowing my secret was like stepping into a heaping pile of dog crap with nothing to wipe it off. She wasn't going to go away no matter how hard I tried. I could feel that in my bones.
"I completely understand, of course, and really, thank you so much. You have no idea what you've done for me."
Actually, it was more like I had no idea what she would do to me.
Practice ended then, and the boys headed toward the parking lot. A collective smell of nasty preteen and teenage boys took over my nasal passages and threatened to bring up the contents of my stomach. Boys stunk, and it wasn't the standard oniony body odor scent. It was almost sweet, but not like candy, more like the vomit of someone who'd eaten an entire box of Gummy Bears.
"Open your window," I said to Josh, and waved goodbye to Pam. I slid into the driver's seat with a big ol' cloud of dread looming over me. "This isn't gonna be good."
"What?" Josh asked.
"Nothing," I said, and switched on the ignition while watching the boys throw their lacrosse bags into other cars. "Which kid is Camden?"
CHAPTER THREE
EMILY CAME HOME, showered, and rushed to leave again. "I'll be home by curfew," she said, sailing out the garage door.
"Hold up," I said, following after her. "Where're you goin'?"
She did a one-eighty on her tan wedges. "On a date." She showed me her pearly whites, the ones that cost over five thousand dollars to straighten.
Emily hadn't had the best luck in picking dates, and after the last fiasco, even though she'd made great changes, Jake and I tightened the leash. "That's news to me. How about you come back inside first and gimme the details?"
She rolled her eyes, the standard Emily move that would likely never go away. "Mom." She put her hands on my shoulders. "I like, talked to Dad already and he said I could like, go."
I opened my mouth to speak but she stopped me. "I know, I'm like, supposed to tell you too, but you weren't home. Have you checked your email? I like, sent you the details." She took out her phone and pressed the screen with her finger. "I emailed both you and Dad all of his information, and even said that Dad said it was okay. He responded too, so like, you can see he knew." She shoved the phone into my face. "See?"
I stepped back so I could read the tiny words on the screen, and skimmed the email. I saw the boy's basic information, as well as Jake's agreement. "The deal is no dates unless we meet the boy first, remember?"
"I know, but like, Dad said it'd be okay, since it's like, a blind date."
I grabbed her phone. "What? I didn't see that part. I'm not comfortable with you going on a blind date at all. Is anyone else going?"
"No, but it's not like, a big deal, Mom. He's like, the son of a woman I work with."
"He's like the son of someone you work with, or he's actually the son of someone you work with?"
She rolled her eyes. "He's the son of someone I work with. So, like, it's not really a blind date anyway. I've met him before, but like, we just haven't talked a lot." She took the phone back. "Look, I even gave you her cell phone number. Mom, he's a sophomore at Georgia Tech and was a like, Valedictorian in high school. He's not Chandler."
Chandler's name coming up twice in one day made my teeth ache. An image of them in the back of Emily's car popped into my brain but I pushed it out before it had a chan
ce to take root. "Tattoos?"
"Nope."
"Body piercings?"
She shook her head.
"Ever been in jail?"
"Mom."
"Juvenile records are sealed. He could have been and you'd never know."
"Like, I'm pretty sure he's never been in jail. He even goes to church."
"That doesn't mean he's not been in jail. God forgives that kind of stuff. Mothers don't."
She giggled and hugged me. "I'll tell you what. I'll ask him if he's ever been in jail, and if he says yes, I'll get back in my car and like, come right home, okay?"
"Promise?"
She nodded. "I'm not that girl anymore, Mom. Like, you know that."
She was right. She wasn't that insecure, emotional train wreck of a teenager from a few months ago. "You weren't so bad," I lied. "For the most part."
She hugged me again, and that time I hugged her back harder. "Love you, Mom."
"Love you too. Remember your promise."
She waved her hand behind her. "I will."
"Wait. What's the boy's name?"
"Mike." She got in her car.
"Mike," I mumbled. "Didn't know anyone named their kids such normal names anymore. Thought it was stuff like Chandler and Braxton or Wyatt."
Chandler had grabbed a hold of my daughter's heart and squeezed it until it burst into tiny pieces, and then left it in a crumbled mess for us to fix. Though she'd tried to show interest in a few other boys after the break-up, it took her a few months to get back on her feet again. We'd spent three months crying and talking and sharing thoughts about life, boys, teenagers, the future…the things moms and daughters talked about when neither was in the midst of a hormonal freak show. During that time something happened. A light went on over my daughter's head and she got it. Or at least I thought she got it. She'd found a place of comfort within herself, just being Emily.
Uncharted Territory (An Angela Panther Mystery Book 3) Page 4
