by Reyna Favis
“I’m not sure what you mean. All of them, all at once using the hand?” He reached out impulsively to touch the dead hand, but then drew back without making contact.
“No… different one’s at different times, I think, just like when they were writing.” I sat up slowly and then pulled the page towards me with my good hand. “And not all of them are literate.” Frowning, I traced a finger over the heavy cross. “That’s the best this one could do to make herself known.”
“You can tell that one was a woman?” Cam stared fixedly at me, his mouth slightly open.
I blinked owlishly a few times and then nodded. “Don’t ask me how I know, but I’m certain.” I pushed the paper to the center of the table and sat back, crossing my arms over my queasy belly and squinching my eyes as I tried to put it all together. “That display with the knife and burnt paper…whoever was running the show at the time, maybe couldn’t write.”
Cam rubbed his face and grumbled. “No, of course not. Why should things ever be simple?” He looked up and cocked his head. “Do you think we could ask it a few more questions?”
I shook my head. “Not today. It used a lot of energy letting through all of those souls just now.”
“Oh come on, just one more question won’t kill it.” Cam looked at me with pleading eyes and I immediately thought of William. Before I could reply, the dead hand lifted, curled back all fingers except the middle digit and then collapsed back on to the table.
“I think you have your answer.”
# # #
After the dead hand reveal with Cam, the whole day did not stretch out before me with a sparkling sense of hope and adventure. I was creeped out that the entire population of dead people could reach through from the other side using my hand as a conduit. It was like the whole world came to my house to use the bathroom. When it was just me using the bathroom, it was perfectly sanitary and there was nothing icky about it. After the whole world got through with it, the bathroom was now a polluted, misbegotten place that was rife with disease.
It seemed that the right way to spend the rest of the day was to cram into it as many masochistic activities as possible. I grabbed the mangled outfit from the previous night and headed for the dry cleaners. Sandra was going to be pissed when she saw what happened to the hand-sewn clothes she loaned me, but it wasn’t like she was going to get any happier if I took my time getting the outfit back to her. Besides, delaying the return just meant more time to work on my guilt ulcer.
When the folks at the dry cleaners said they couldn’t fix the neckline, I paid extra for the one day cleaning service, just so I could get it over with. I picked up some groceries during the hour the cleaners needed and bought Sandra a box of chocolates, as a way to apologize for ruining her clothes.
A text from Lucas – You okay??? – caught me off guard as I loaded groceries in the back seat. I texted back that I was fine and that he shouldn’t worry. Figuring that this was the end of the exchange, I returned the shopping cart to the corral and clambered into the car, only to have another text alert go off. Lucas wanted to meet for dinner and declared it to be our third date, counting the night out at the Meridian with the food avalanche as the first date. This being our third date, according to the rules set by the priest and rabbi, we would dine one-on-one.
I sat behind the wheel and drummed my fingers on my lips, not daring to answer before thinking things through. This was not what I expected. Between the possibility of a real date with Lucas and the revelation involving the dead hand, a sense of being overwhelmed made my head swim and I slumped down in the seat. I concentrated on controlling my breathing, so I wouldn’t hyperventilate, and I forced myself to think rationally.
Nothing had really changed with the dead hand – I was just more aware of what was going on behind the curtain. I needed to be as cautious as ever with it and I didn’t have to do anything different. But things with Lucas were suddenly moving fast and I wasn’t prepared for it. If I were Lucas, I would be backing off after the incident with Rory. Why would anyone want to hook up with some violent lunatic? And what about Hannah? It had only been six months since she passed away and there was no way he was over the traUma of losing her. The only explanation I saw for the sudden uptick in Lucas’s interest in me was Ron. It was possible Lucas thought he had competition and he needed to make a move before I rode off into the sunset with Ron. I shook my head in disbelief and decided to just accept my good fortune. But if things were going to work between us, I’d need to be more strategic in planning how events played out, including this upcoming date.
By definition, spending time alone with Lucas meant that Hannah was going to be an issue. I did not want to run off on Lucas again because she was threatening to throw a tantrum in a crowded venue. That sort of thing could eventually give Lucas a complex. I tapped out a message to let him know that I was all out of nice clothes, so we’d need to eat somewhere seriously casual. I suggested Hot Dog Johnny’s in Buttzville and then sent the text. There was outdoor seating at this restaurant and the weather might cooperate, allowing us to sit outside comfortably with our jackets on. If the situation went south and degenerated into a brawl, I did not want to be trapped inside a small space loaded with innocent bystanders. Outside, I had more options where I could take the fight.
Lucas responded with a series of question marks, but ultimately accepted my dining recommendation and we set a date to accommodate his work schedule. Reeling between elation and dread like an emotional yo-yo, I put the key in the ignition with a shaking hand and drove back to the dry cleaners.
I was thrilled that Lucas was showing unambiguous interest in me and I could quit second guessing myself every time he smiled my way, but having a relationship with him might be like running an obstacle course. Aside from Hannah being near him every minute of every day, I also needed to consider his feelings for her. Love doesn’t die just because a person does. Was he ready for a new relationship? Lucas was also a hardcore skeptic about the unseen world, always happy to do whatever mental contortions were necessary to make his observations fit the more limited reality he sensed. Maybe that would work in my favor where Hannah was concerned, but could I deal with constant disagreement? And then there was the dead hand. If things progressed in a natural way, this unnatural appendage was going to be a hindrance in a physical relationship. Fantasizing about being with Lucas was one thing. Experiencing the reality was going to take some creativity. Maybe I could keep the neoprene glove on and convince him I was kinky and this was just a strange fetish. Alone in my car, I blushed, then shook my head and admitted that I did not have what I needed to get through this life.
I hardly heard the cashier thank me for my business as she handed me the cleaned garment and accepted payment. With a head full of worries, I set off for Sandra’s home and readied myself to be chewed out for ruining her clothes.
# # #
Cam opened the door and invited me in. “Sandra seems to have left you in one piece.”
I hung my head as I stepped over the threshold, still feeling guilty about destroying the borrowed clothing. “Yeah, but she wasn’t happy about it. She was just madder at Rory than she was at me, so that probably saved my hide. She said she could rework the neckline…” My voice trailed off as I noticed the aroma of frying bacon. Cam’s text inviting me for brunch came with perfect timing as I left Sandra’s house. No matter how crappy the day was going, a free meal always made things better. “Lenora’s cooking?”
“It was her idea to make brunch. Those mini-drinks packed a wallop, so no one really felt like eating breakfast.” Cam took my coat and then escorted me to the dining room. The table was loaded with fresh baked bread, fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and a steaming casserole dish full of French toast, the brown sugar, cinnamon and vanilla harmonizing sweetly with the savory scents and making my stomach growl with impatience.
Ignoring everyone, I piled my plate high with two helpings of everything and devoted the next few minutes to feeding the beas
t in my belly. Once my plate was empty, I sensed everyone was looking, so I put the plate down and resisted the urge to lick it clean. Instead, I sat back and sighed, mostly out of contentment, but also to give the food more room to settle.
Lenora handed me a warm wash cloth. “Napkin won’t cut it this time.” After taking her seat again, she propped her chin in the palm of her hand and watched me wipe the syrup and bits of egg from my face. “Why you eat like that, little girl? No one’s gonna steal your food.”
I shrugged and blushed. “I get really hungry after dealing with spirits. They drain my energy or something. And growing up in the institution, perfect etiquette wasn’t high on the list of behaviors they needed to see from me.”
Ron made a rude noise. “They were happy if she could go one day without bleeding. They thought she was doing it to herself.”
I grimaced and started fidgeting. Cam saw my discomfort and came to the rescue. “So, I looked up Tom Quick earlier. The Lenape family named him as their murderer, and it turns out, he was quite the sociopath.”
Lenora made a sucking noise through her teeth. “Our people know this Tom Quick. He murdered many Lenape.”
Ron’s eyes blazed black fire. “He was celebrated for it by the white settlers. A hundred years later, they even put up a freakin’ monument in his honor.”
I gasped as the thought hit me. “Cam, do you think he’s still out there? Wandering around in those woods?”
“Not likely,” Cam said after a pause. “If he were earthbound, I think he would have tried to interfere when we released the family.”
‘Now, hold on there for just one second.” Ron waved a fork with some French toast and then chewed it down before continuing. “Are you saying Tom Quick made it to the afterlife after all the evil he did, while He-Who-Counseled-the-Chief is still stuck on this side? How is that even fair?”
Cam and I exchanged a look. With a slight tilt of his head, Cam motioned for me to take the question. I rolled my eyes and said, “What does fair have to do with it? It just is.”
Ron’s eyebrows did a little dance of confusion and surprise. “No, I can’t accept that. There has to be justice after everything’s said and done.”
“Look, all we know is that spirits – good, bad, or indifferent – cross over to the other side. Sometimes it takes a bit of an effort to get them to go.” Cam sighed and poured another mug of coffee. “What happens after that, we can’t tell you. If it makes you feel better to believe that there is some kind of sorting or judgment, by all means, go with that.”
“Besides, what do you really know about He-Who-Counseled-the-Chief?” Taking the coffee carafe from Cam, I topped off my mug. “He might have done some stuff he’s not too proud of. He’s still on this side, after all.” Ron’s face fell, distracting me and making me fumble as I replaced the carafe on the trivet. Ancestors were revered in his culture and I had just shat all over that. I clumsily babbled on and tried to cover my faux pas. “Or maybe there is something left unfinished and he needs to find closure. He led us to the Lenape family, but he didn’t join them when they crossed over, so even though this was important, it wasn’t the central issue for him.”
Lenora spoke up, still holding her chin in her palm. “She-Who-Ate-Audachienrra was important to him. Why doesn’t he go to her?”
“Good question,” Cam said. “He’s been dead and wandering since sometime in the sixteen hundreds and he hasn’t tried to go to her. Obviously, we can use this lady to induce him to cross over.” Cam sipped his coffee and considered. “He did seem excited when you spoke to him in his native tongue. He said he had been searching for you.” When Lenora widened her eyes at this, Cam clarified. “Well, not you specifically, but probably other tribal members.”
Ron shook his head, the corners of his eyes and mouth pulled down by sadness. “By the early seventeen hundreds, the Unami speakers like He-Who-Counseled-the-Chief were pushed out of New Jersey into eastern Pennsylvania. In the eighteen hundreds, our people were forced even farther west. We ended up as far north as Canada and as far south as Mexico and a bunch of places in between. It’s no wonder he couldn’t find his people when he searched the old tribal lands.”
“That poor man…Can you imagine being abandoned, without your people?” Lenora put her knuckles to her mouth and shook her head slowly.
Sagging in his chair, Ron closed his eyes. “Yes,” he said softly. Lenora reached over and put her frail hand over his large, meaty paw, saying nothing.
I looked away. I did not want to remember the feeling of isolation before I met Cam and Zackie. Clearing my throat, I brought up the other piece of the puzzle. “There’s still the question of why He-Who-Counseled-the-Chief was with Maggie when she took her life.”
“Who’s this Maggie?” Lenora asked. “I remember you asked He-Who-Counseled-the-Chief what he did to her and it made him angry.”
After we explained what we knew about Maggie’s case to Lenora and Ron, she sat back with her arms folded over her chest. “Why’d you think he’d harm her? He’d tried to help her. It’s obvious what he said was to stop her from shooting herself.”
Cam sighed. “We don’t know that. He might have been tormenting her in her last moments or he –”
Ron interrupted. “No, he wouldn’t do that. He helped the Lenape family. Without him, they’d still be stuck here, trapped below the water.”
“Dude, what if he only helps his own? He’d have no reason to have a soft heart for the people who invaded his land. And he saw what Tom Quick did to that poor family. That’s not going to give him a good impression of white settlers.” I forced the bangs out of my eyes and searched Ron’s face for understanding. He looked away, unconvinced. “Look, I don’t believe in my gut that he tried to harm her. But I have no solid evidence to tell me anything one way or the other.”
Lenora uncrossed her arms and tapped the table top with her finger. “You talk to him again. Things’ll be different for you now that you helped the family.”
Cam shrugged. “You may be right. In any event, we do need to talk to him again, if only for his own sake. He needs to move on. But I’m not holding out hope that what he has to say can help us with Maggie.” Cam gave me a probing look. “And we cannot do this today. Fia needs more time to recharge.”
I nodded gratefully. If it were an emergency, I would have sucked it up to do what I had to do, but it would cost me. Another spirit encounter right then would probably be really unpleasant and possibly painful. “Maybe one more day. I think I’ll be ready in another day.” I looked for signs of disappointment and impatience, but the faces of my friends were understanding. I could take the time I needed.
# # #
The day had come and I completely lost any ability to focus. The date with Lucas preyed on my mind and any moments of soaring exhilaration came crashing down, brought to ground by the fears and worries of how reality might compare with my fantasies. I tried to watch TV to pass the time, but could not concentrate long enough to make it to a commercial break. It became background noise while I showered and then obsessed about my hair and clothes. Taking extra time and special care, I applied the mortuary makeup to the dead hand, blending the colors until I had a near perfect facsimile of life. I planned what I would eat because I wanted that first kiss to be perfect. And I wanted that kiss more than I ever wanted anything in my life.
The evening was unseasonably warm, more like a throwback to summer than an autumn night. I wore my finest black t-shirt, my best bet for hiding food stains, and rolled my windows down slightly during the drive to Hot Dog Johnny’s. I couldn’t risk getting my hair mussed, but neither could I arrive sweaty and sticky. Maybe I should avoid anything with onions or do without condiments to keep my shirt clean. I chewed the inside of my cheek, deciding. Maybe I wouldn’t eat.
My mind churned uselessly, swarmed with trivial worries in an effort to block the true, core fears that slowly bubbled to the surface. What if I screwed this up, doing or saying something to make him t
hink psychosis was a better explanation for who I was? It was different when Cam was there to back me up, but alone with Lucas, I was afraid that I’d bump up against his limits with the ghost stuff and he’d see me as the crazy girl. And what if he kissed me and I didn’t measure up to Hannah? I would always be in her shadow. She was his first love, his wife, and I was certain he wouldn’t have given me a second look if she were still alive.
I parked near the tree line and stilled the engine with a mindless turn of the key. A warm breeze blew through my open window, teasing strands of my hair to float softly around my face. I stepped out of the car and was greeted by the silvery sound of water from a stream rushing at the bottom of the hill behind the restaurant. He sat on a table, leaning slightly forward, his feet on the seat and his hands clasped loosely on bent knees. When he stood up and walked slowly towards me, his stride easy with its own unique rhythm, a bass line played soft as crushed velvet in my mind. It might have been my heart beating to match his pace as I stood unmoving, thoughts and fears stuttering to a halt, mesmerized by his animal grace. He wore faded jeans and a gray t-shirt that exposed the cut of his biceps below the sleeves. My eyes traveled along his form while the breeze swirled, pressing the soft fabric of his shirt against the muscles of his chest. I followed the movement of Lucas’s blond hair as it swayed silkily around his shoulders, moved by the warm drafts, until at last I found his eyes. He looked back at me, gray as a winter sky and steady.
Stopping within inches of me, his unblinking gaze softened and delved into my eyes. His hands brushed the hair back from my face and then he brought his lips to mine. And I was lost in this purely sensual moment, with no room for thoughts or doubts. His kiss was soft and gentle, but there was nothing tentative. He smelled of clean soap and I tasted mint on his lips. I stroked his ribs and found the taught muscles of his back. With that small encouragement, his hands smoothed the contours of my body and pulled me in closer, his lips burning and insistent. My fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair and my heart pounded, sending lava coursing through my veins. Like a scorching desert wind, his emotions swept through me, incendiary and wild, painting me with flame. Leaning into him, feeling the searing heat of his body, I deepened the kiss and savored the gift of this moment.
