Give Up the Ghost

by Cherie Claire

  Don’t I?

  Trust your instinct, Aunt Mimi always told me. Your gut is always right. Right now my gut is home to two human beings who have no say in the matter.

  I look down at Stinky who pauses in his clawing at the door, looks up at me and howls. Gunner’s not around and my cat saved me once, should we risk this again.

  “What do I do?” I ask my feline.

  He looks at me as to say, “What are we waiting for?” So, I close my eyes and groan, open the door and step outside, Stinky rushing ahead into the woods. I follow the deck to the shore, pass Clayton sleeping inside his car, and step into the dark night, immediately enveloped by the woods and the cool mud squishing between my toes. The oncoming storm electrifies the air and I feel my curls rising. I grab the three-fish letter opener still in my pocket and hold it tight as I make my way toward where I first spotted Jack.

  It doesn’t take me long to reach my long-suffering ghost. I feel the familiar softness against my bare feet so I whisper, “It’s done. Go.”

  It’s a beautiful thing, watching ghosts transition. You witness the peace in their eyes, the knowing of their voyage to come, the warm white light pouring down from the heavens that’s filled with God’s love. Jack smiles as the light appears and his eyes send me a gleam of gratitude. It only takes seconds and within a heartbeat, Jack’s gone.

  I don’t do this without precaution, however. I hold the letter opener in front of me and circle my ghost, my back to Jack, until Jack safely disappears. Stinky remains at my feet, his claws firmly entrenched in the ground, waiting for someone or something to interfere.

  But no one does.

  I exhale the breath I’ve been holding and drop my arm. Maybe I was wrong about Dwayne being here. Maybe my nemesis got spooked by the FBI raid and left town.

  I look down at Stinky but he’s not convinced. He’s sniffing the air and glancing around, growling low in his throat.

  “What is it, Stink?”

  The words aren’t out my mouth when something strong and invisible kicks my cat — and hard. Stinky cries out and goes flying into the woods. I hear him land against a tree but then nothing.

  I’m so angry I turn toward Dwayne and thrust my knife in his direction. But it’s not the metal weapon in my hand that causes him to fall backwards, it’s the force of my emotions.

  “Nice one,” he says, picking himself back up, shaking the leaves off his pants. “You’re finally learning how to use your powers.”

  “How dare you hurt my cat?” I shout out, but my anger’s quickly turning to fear and hurt.

  “Funny how it leaves you, doesn’t it?” he asks, walking closer. There’s hardly any light this far from my houseboat and the street, but as his face becomes clearer I make out that horrible scar Stinky inflicted.

  “What does?” I ask, my knife pointing in his direction.

  “Anger. Such a powerful emotion, gives you so much strength, but then it slips away as fast as it arrives. Really only hurts the originator.”

  He’s right. Fear now grips my heart and my strength subsides. I took a gamble with Jack and now I’ve put myself and my two children at risk.

  “What do you want?” I ask, offering more bravado than I really have. “Jack’s gone, so you gain nothing from me.”

  Dwayne laughs and the sound chills my heart. I realize how alike he and Gunner are, both methodical in their evil with cold water in their veins. But Gunner’s actions resulted from inner pain and suffering while Dwayne simply has no concern for anyone but himself. There’s no fear or hurt behind his desires, simply a disregard for human life. How do I fight this?

  “I don’t want Jack,” Dwayne says with a sinister smile. “I never did, really.”

  I swallow hard, not wanting to know the answer to what I’m about to ask. “What do you want, then?”

  He examines a nail. “Oh Vi, such power bestowed on a simpleton. What was the universe thinking?”

  He inches closer and I wave the letter opener.

  “There’s a good example. Like that’s going to save you.”

  I glance toward the parking lot, wondering if Clayton will hear me scream, but the thunder has moved closer and his car seems so far away.

  “He won’t hear anything. And I doubt your hubbie will either. Doesn’t matter what you witches did tonight, it will be a while before your husband gets up to speed.”

  He moves closer and now I spot the dark centers of his brilliant blue eyes, orbs that once entranced me with their beauty.

  “You’re sick,” I say, remembering how Maribelle said the same thing to her brother only hours before. But, it doesn’t hold the same power over Dwayne.

  “No, sweetheart, just anxious to get this over with.”

  He’s closer now and I wave the letter opener again. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

  My weapon flies from my hands and disappears into the darkness of the woods.

  “Really?” he asks sarcastically.

  He’s so close I can smell that sickly sweet cologne he wears. I step back, my heart racing, feel my chest tighten up and my head begin to pound, know my blood pressure’s frighteningly high. Oh, why didn’t I stay put in the safety of the houseboat?

  “You’re so amazing, Viola. Did just what I expected you to do. I mean, did you really think I wanted Jack when I could have three souls with you?”

  My children. He doesn’t want just me, he wants my children. My precious twins who have yet to see the world.

  For a moment, the buzzing in my head disappears, I’m able to breathe, and my eyesight becomes crystal clear. The darkness fades as lightning cracks around me and thunder shakes the ground. I look straight at Dwayne and view him for what he is, a descendant able to offer so much to humanity but inside choosing to be an abomination walking the earth.

  I’m no longer scared of this man. I feel an intense power brewing deep inside my womb and flowing outward through my body until the electrons pour from my fingertips. I’m fearless. I’m a mother!

  I step forward and Dwayne senses the change, begins walking backward.

  “You will never harm me or my children,” I begin, pulling forth an energy originating in love that a mother has for her children, one so strong she will face the evils of hell to protect them.

  Dwayne attempts a laugh but it comes out hollow. He’s doubting himself.

  “You can’t win, Vi. Not against me.”

  Now, it’s my turn to smile. “Sorry, Dwayne. Guess your mother never told you that moms are always right.”

  His confidence disappears and anger overtakes his features. “Bitch, you owe me.”

  “I owe you nothing,” I say slowly and succinctly, still moving forward, Dwayne backing up toward the Cove.

  He shakes his head. “You’re mine.”

  Dwayne was right about one thing. Anger does give you power but it leaks away as fast as it comes. He bobbles unsteadily as his feet hit the water, closer than he realized in the intense darkness. Still, he attempts a counterattack, raising his arms to destroy me, his eyes flashing with hatred.

  But I come from a place of love. It’s as clear as the water’s surface waiting for the rains to arrive. I raise my own arms and shield myself and those I love from this hateful man. When he sends a force my way, I send one back, knocking him off his feet, him landing fully in the waters of Emma’s Cove.

  And that’s when the lightning hits.

  I watch in horror as Dwayne Garrett twitches with the electricity pouring through his body.

  “Help me,” he whispers.

  I reach for him, but lightning crackles around me, illuminating the water that will kill me just as easily if I step forward. When the impact ceases, Dwayne’s eyes appear lifeless and he falls back into the water.

  I think to run to Clayton and get help, but the blood drains from my head fast and the chest pain returns. I gasp for air as the world spins around me. I’m hyperventilating and worry I’m having a heart attack. I fall to the ground, praying that
my kids are all right.

  Before I lose consciousness, I hear footsteps approaching, hear TB calling my name and feel two giant arms scooping me up and carrying me away. When I come to again, I’m in an ambulance wearing an oxygen mask and an EMT inserting an IV. TB’s holding my hand, calling my name, tears pouring down his face.

  “Stinky?” I ask.

  “He’s fine,” TB tells me, petting my hair. “We’ve got him.”

  I smile but it hurts to do so. I want to tell him I’ve met the enemy and defeated him, that everything will be okay, but my exertion causes a sharp pain to pierce my chest and darkness returns.

  At first, the gloom frightens me, but then my pain disappears. I’m back in the light, in the ambulance looking down on everyone, at the top of TB’s head, the EMT struggling to find a vein. I realize I’m also gazing down on my lifeless form while the heart monitor beats threateningly. The EMT calls out to the person driving the ambulance and TB starts crying harder. I reach to place a hand on TB’s shoulder, to let him know I’m right here, but I float away.

  Now, I’m surrounded by a light reminiscent of the ones ghosts experience when they transition. There’s no pain anymore, no frightened love ones, no scary medical equipment. Just an intense feeling of love and peace. I close my eyes and relish the emotion, so pure and divine.

  “Hello Viola,” a voice calls out.

  I open my eyes to discover Grandma Willow, a woman I never met but know from the many photos my mom and Aunt Mimi have shown me. She’s short and stout with wiry hair like mine, except hers is brushed with streaks of gray. Her face denotes kindness and love and I realize I take after this psychic woman who attracted followers from miles around. She holds out her arms and I rush into her embrace, savor the comfort her arms offer.

  It’s then I realize that there’s nothing between us. Look down and find myself thin.

  “It’s different here,” my grandmother whispers. “We return to our most authentic selves. Plus, your babies are still very much alive in the other world.”

  I should think about what happened and where my twins are now but I’m surrounded by such peacefulness, like soaking in a salt-water hot tub where all you want to do is float unhindered.

  “Where am I?” I ask.

  Grandma Willow releases me, steps aside, and it’s then that I spot my baby. Lillye stands in front of me looking the picture of health, appearing as if leukemia never wrecked her body and stole her life away.

  I fall to my knees and open my arms and my precious angel fills them up. I hug her so hard I’m afraid I might hurt her damaged body but realize she’s fine, that we’re where nothing bad happens. I pull away and study her intensely, pull my fingers through her fine hair, gaze into those sweet brown eyes she inherited from her father and smell her sweet scent. I kiss every inch of her face. If this isn’t heaven, then I don’t want to end up there.

  “I’m fine, Momma,” she says through all the affection. “Grandma Willow takes good care of me.”

  I look up at my grandmother with gratitude.

  “She’s an angel.”

  “Like her dad,” I say and we all laugh.

  “You beat the bad man,” Lillye tells me proudly. “You’re invincible.”

  “Yeah, Mommy beat the bad man.”

  I don’t remember what happened with Dwayne, don’t even care I’m so focused on seeing my baby. I sit down and pull Lillye in my lap but she appears concerned.

  “What is it, sweetheart.”

  “Are you supposed to be here?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” And I mean it.

  I feel Grandma Willow’s hand on my shoulder. “Honey, you’re not supposed to be here.”

  I rub Lillye’s arms, relish her precious smile, hug her close. “I missed you so much.”

  She leans her head against mine. “I missed you, too, Mommy.”

  “We’re together now,” I say, enjoying the sensation of her cheek against mine.

  Grandma Willow squeezes my shoulder. “Darling, you can’t stay.”

  I’m not going anywhere, not leaving my beloved child.

  She squeezes again. “Viola. Sweetheart.”

  I close my eyes, sensing a pain deep in my chest. “No, I’m not leaving.”

  This time, it’s a tiny hand on my chin. “Mommy?”

  I can’t resist my baby so I open my eyes and smile. “Yes, my angel.”

  “Michael and Gaia need you.”

  “Who?”

  “And Daddy, he needs you too.”

  I take her face in my palms. “But I need you.”

  She was so young when death took my child, but wise beyond her years, always caring about everyone else.

  “I know, Mommy, but I’m always with you.”

  It’s what everyone has told me since Lillye passed away, a wisdom I believed but could never feel or accept. That pain in my chest intensifies.

  “But this is what I want,” I tell her. “To hold you, see you, hear your sweet voice.”

  She shakes her head to move the hair that’s fallen over her eyes, the way she used to and it warms my heart.

  “If you listen hard, Mommy, you can always hear me.”

  I know that, too, have been convinced the longer I deal with the paranormal that those on the other side assist me as much as I do them. Still, it’s not like holding your daughter close.

  I shake my head. “No, I’m staying here.”

  Now, Lillye looks worried, glances over my shoulder. “What about Daddy?”

  “Daddy will be fine.”

  In the background, I hear a beeping, but I try to push it from my mind.

  “What about my brother and sister?”

  The twins. My children. I lean backward, start to falter thinking of my other precious angels.

  “You have to go back,” Grandma Willow states firmly.

  I look back at Lillye, wanting to hold on to her forever.

  She nods. “It’s okay, Mommy. I’m in a beautiful place.”

  “But I miss you so much.”

  Grandma Willow sends me an empathic smile. “But they will miss you. And there is so much left for you to do.”

  I hear TB call my name as a jolt of energy pulsates through me.

  Lillye appears really concerned now. “Don’t let Daddy do this alone.” She rushes into my arms and holds me tight, then gently lets me go and turns me around. I see TB standing in the corner of what looks like an emergency room, hands over his mouth in horror as they apply defibrillators on my chest.

  I don’t even know how it happens, but the next second I’m back inside my body, excruciating pain filling my chest. I suck in a breath with a dramatic gulp.

  “She’s back,” I hear someone say.

  Another person warns TB to stay back but my husband’s at my side, grabbing my hand, calling my name. I look over into those loving brown eyes.

  “I’m fine,” I whisper.

  “You left me,” he whispers back.

  I think about where I went, who I saw. I squeeze his hand. “I saw her. I saw our baby. And she’s really good.”

  I don’t have to explain because TB knows exactly who I’m talking about, leans forward and cries quietly into my shoulder. I reach a hand, the free one without the IV, and stroke his hair.

  “She’s so happy. And she’s with my Grandma Willow.”

  He leans up and nods, attempts a smile.

  I feel a hand on my shoulder and expect to see said grandmother at my side. Instead, it’s Doctor Mahoney.

  “You went into maternal cardiac arrest so it’s imperative that we do a C-section immediately,” she tells me.

  “Of course,” I respond. “Whatever you need to do.”

  TB’s looking frightened again. “Will she have another heart attack?”

  Mahoney glances at the heart monitor by the side of the bed. “Her numbers came way down. Right now, her blood pressure’s normal, she’s doing great.”

  “Then let’s go,” I say, convinced ther
e are people on the other side watching over me.

  It all happens so fast. They wheel me into the operating room, TB never releasing my hand, even when a nurse dresses him in a gown; he does it one arm at a time. I receive an epidural, then a nurse drapes my bottom half. Doctor Mahoney literally has run to get scrubbed and re-emerges with a collection of nurses who gather around.

  And then the fun starts. Not like I feel any of it, but it sounds intense. I look at my husband who I’m convinced has no blood left in his face.

  “They’re going to be fine,” I whisper. “Breathe.”

  The first cry I hear sounds healthy and strong. In fact, this child screams for all the world.

  “Here she is,” Mahoney announces. “Your baby girl.”

  “Gaia,” I say.

  TB frowns and tilts his head. “What?”

  But I don’t have time to explain because Michael emerges. He’s quieter, utters a soft weeping.

  “And you have a healthy son as well.”

  TB and I start crying like the babies we just produced. In that divine moment, we forget all about FBI agents, arsonists, murderers, and a Lucifer descendant who may be lying in our Cove’s waters. All is well and we’re parents again.

  And Lillye’s looking down upon us all.

  When the babies have been examined and Doctor Mahoney announces they each have ten toes and ten fingers, the nurses bring us our children.

  “They came almost a month early but they’re six pounds each and very healthy,” Mahoney said. “After what happened and your heart attack, you’re a lucky woman.”

  I gaze into the tiny faces of my adorable twins, back at my husband with tears lingering on his lashes. I think back on the five years I shared with another sweet angel.

  “Yes, I am,” I state proudly.

  The nurses finish cleaning me up — thank goodness I can’t see any of that mess – while TB and I fuss over our babies. It’s then I notice something odd about Gaia.

  “Is it me, or does she have a green aura?” I ask TB.

  “You can see that?” he asks.