PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  "I'm thinkin' we should be off t'Sara's house, we should," Ruth said, heading for the sliding glass doors.

  "Oh, honey, this is such a bad idea," Martin said in a dither, as he followed her through the door.

  "Martin, we need to stay focused. We 'ave a mission, and this family is the answer," Ruth said, flying into the night air.

  "I just know we're gonna get ourselves in some shit after this little endeavor."

  "How bad could it be, dear? We're already dead."

  "You ever tangled with a necromancer, Ruth?"

  "Can't say as I 'ave."

  "Swell."

  ***

  On a plane bound for Michigan, Antoinette sat in first class, alternately sipping a mimosa and munching on an egg croissant. Sara sat in the empty window seat next to her grandmother, and to everyone else in first class it seemed the older woman was talking to herself.

  "Do you see all ghosts, Gran?" Sara asked.

  "Yes, even when I wish not too," her grandmother answered, took another bite of her croissant, wiped her lips with a paper napkin, and then placed the egg sandwich neatly on the tray in front of her. "There's three in first class, hovering over a poor man on his way to a funeral."

  "Go on! I didn't see them! I'll be right back!"

  "Hold on, Sara. You may not always see others; just as all humans are not able to see a spirit. It takes a combined effort, unless you're a necromancer. And even then, one could be limited."

  "Nothing wrong with your necromancer skills—you see a shitload—and you don't even have to be dead. How cool is that?" Sara commented as she eyed the egg sandwich. "I miss eating."

  "Yes, well, we should be landing in an hour. I wish to discuss the importance of Toni's inheritance, the rules of acceptance, and her first sexual encounter."

  "Tooo much information—I really don't wanna discuss her first sexual . . . thing, Gran." Sara bounced off the roof of the plane, back down, and right through her seat, due to a bit of turbulence. She wiggled out and glared at her grandmother.

  "It's important, Sara." Gran took another sip of her mimosa. "With our gifts come a few rules that have been handed down generation after generation, and they've been strictly adhered to."

  An older man, dressed in a business suit, sitting in the aisle seat across from them, cleared his throat and frowned at Antoinette.

  She smiled at him as she set down her mimosa.

  "You mean Toni might not get the gift?" Sara came to attention.

  Her grandmother furrowed her brows. "You know perfectly well there are qualifiers. Don't play coy with me, young lady. If one of the rules is broken, the gift will die with me."

  "So what are the rules?" Sara asked with the look of innocence.

  Antoinette's smile seemed forced. "Before I list a few, keep in mind our bargain. If you do anything to ruin this for your sister I will personally enjoy your incarceration."

  Sara burrowed into her chair. "I got it, Gran, even if I don't have any idea where the hell you'll send me if I screw up."

  "And Hell it will be," Gran said. "I'm only making you aware because you now know what I am, and even though I'm not quite sure you can do anything about it, I want you to be fully conscious of not only the consequences, but of the rules that must not be broken."

  "Fine—just fine and F'n dandy—no one seems to care that I'm dead. It's all about Toni and this stupid gift. I got it," Sara pouted.

  The man in the aisle seat coughed loudly, shook the newspaper he was reading, and glared at Antoinette with livid gray eyes. She glared back. He tossed the paper in the empty seat next to his, got up, and strutted toward the front of the plane.

  Sara floated up, eyes on the curtain between first class and coach.

  Gran watched the man's back for a minute; then turned and studied Sara's face before proceeding. "You know, Sara, in your human life, you often acted before thinking of the ramifications. I'm merely pointing out that this is very serious and this time you will pay dearly for your indiscretions."

  Sara took in a long breath, teeth clenched, and then let it out in a hiss. "Are you going to tell me what I can't do or what?"

  "Yes, I am, because stupidity will not be an excuse for forgiveness," Antoinette softly whispered. "The first and most important rule is that no one is allowed to advise a possible recipient about the gift. Is that clear? No friends, family, spirits, bums on the street, no one, even if they believe it's untrue."

  "Do you want me to write all this down?" Sara asked coyly.

  "Don't be a smartass," Gran said through tight lips. "If Toni finds out, the gift is null and void; and, in this case, it's extremely important because the future generations will lose the ability to become a necromancer since your mother's uterus is drying up."

  The corner of Sara's lip twitched.

  The man walked by, huffed at Antoinette, sidled into his seat, picked up the newspaper, shook it out with much ado, and then buried his face behind it.

  "That's it? Just don't tell her she's gonna start seeing ghosts as soon as she screws someone after she turns eighteen?"

  "That brings us to the second rule: anyone who has knowledge of the gift cannot encourage the recipient either to have or not to have sex until the age of eighteen."

  "So if Toni does the nasty with Paul in the next twelve days, she's shit out of luck?" Sara asked.

  "That's correct. However, all past recipients have shown a demeanor of shyness, are often withdrawn, and usually do not participate in sexual promiscuity at an early age."

  "So they're all geeks! Were you a geek, Gran?" Sara giggled.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, I was. I had little use for men. Unlike you, who screwed your way right out of the gift, sweetheart." Gran smiled, saluting Sara with her mimosa before taking a long sip.

  Sara totally ignored the jab. "So, what you’re saying is the only way we can screw this up is if you, me, or Mom says anything to her, right?"

  "No one can interfere—no one—dead or alive. And if someone does—anyone—you will be held responsible. That includes your new friends, Sara; if that's what you're thinking. Clear enough?"

  "About as crystal clear as a set of Bose ear buds," Sara said. "This is between you and me."

  "And am I supposed to believe that, coming from the ghost that has already tried to enter her sister's body?" Antoinette asked with a wicked smile.

  "Was it you that stopped me?" Sara wanted to know.

  "No, I didn't try to stop you for good reason," Gran said with a knowing smile.

  A stewardess approached with a quizzical look. "Can I get you anything else, Mrs. Maestro?"

  "Well, who the hell did, then?" Sara growled, eyes suspicious.

  Gran put on a sad face and looked up at the stewardess. "No, just reminiscing. Sorry if I'm bothering anyone with my chatter. I'm on my way to my granddaughter's funeral. She was only seventeen."

  The stewardess tilted her head and furrowed her brow. "Ohhh, I'm so sorry. And you're not bothering anyone, dear." She patted Gran's arm, frowning at the man across from them. "Are you sure you wouldn't like another?" She pointed to the empty mimosa cup on the little tray in front of Antoinette.

  "No, she doesn't want another!" Sara yelled. "She's already had two!"

  Gran smiled at the attendant. "Well, maybe just one more. Thank you, sweetheart."

  Sara huffed, shoved her hands through the armrests of her seat, and then slid them under her butt.

  The stewardess put her hand on Antoinette's shoulder. "I'll be right back." She walked away shaking her head at the man behind the newspaper.

  Antoinette shot him a sweet old lady smile; then turned back to Sara and whispered, "As I was saying, I didn't stop you from trying to enter your sister because it was an opportunity to find out if she was, indeed, a recipient of the gift. The chosen are protected from any entity entering their body or mind until they receive the gift."

  "Can you enter a human's body?" Sara asked.

  "No, just their dreams. I can, h
owever, summon Bartholomew, explain why I am . . . rooting for him, and then enter Paul's dreams when Bartholomew is not inside of Paul. I can't manipulate Paul, but I can sure as hell give him some really sweet dreams about our Toni along with the repercussions of bedding a minor. And that's not against the rules."

  Chapter Eleven

  At the Farrell home, the smell of coffee permeated the air.

  Belle eyed the steaming cup in Toni's hand as she passed her on the way into the kitchen. "Why are you still in your pajamas? Let's get a move on, Toni. You know how your grandmother hates to be kept waiting."

  "I can't wait to see Gran," Toni paused in the doorway and smiled. "It's been two years! How could we go so long without seeing her?" I can't wait to hug her—tell her how much I miss Sara—and . . . tell her about Paul. Oh God, she's going to meet him tonight and I don't even know if I really want this.

  "I'm sure she'll be happy to see you, too." Belle swept a wad of well-used tissue across her nose and pulled a cup off a rack mounted over the stove. "Now, get dressed. It's a thirty minute drive to the airport."

  "Sorry, Mom," Toni said, and turned on her heel. "Sara's friends have been calling to find out when the viewing is. Did you know she belonged to a club?" Toni hollered over her shoulder as she took the stairs two at a time. 'Edible Sploshers'? What the heck kind of club is that? Who knows with Sara? Maybe it's a swim team.

  Belle mumbled to herself, "My little girl belonged to a club I didn't know about?" She paused, pot hovering over her cup. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'm just glad there will be a good turn out." She rubbed her nose as she poured a cup of coffee. "I hope you're watching, Sara," she whispered at the ceiling. Sniffing back a sob, she walked to the small table in the center of the kitchen, sat down and stared at the steam rising over her cup.

  An hour later they looped around the Northwest baggage claim area for the third time to see if they could spot Gran waiting.

  "There she is!" Toni announced, waving out the window.

  Gran, suitcase beside her, large purse slung over her shoulder, waved as they pulled up to the curb. Her hair was knotted in at the base of her neck and loose tendrils of frazzled curls blew across her wrinkled face, almost hiding storm cloud eyes. She wore a pair of dark gray silk pants, white tennis shoes and a white silk hoodie.

  Toni jumped out before the car came to a stop and wrapped her arms around Antoinette. "Gran, I've missed you so much. I can't wait to have one of our special talks. I need you more than ever."

  "I know sweetie. I've missed you too. This is very hard for all of us," Antoinette said. Cleverly placed shades of gray eye shadow, scarcely noticeable blush and tan lipstick, accentuated the sad expression she wore across her face.

  Sara floated beside Antoinette as Toni put the luggage into the trunk with a sigh. "I can't believe she's gone, Gran."

  Belle put her head against the steering wheel. "I miss Sara so much, Mother."

  "Oh dammit, I miss you guys too!" Sara sobbed, but only Gran heard her.

  "I know you miss her, Belle," Antoinette said, climbing into the car. "I'm sure she's right here with us."

  Sara floated through the back window and sat in the back seat with her hands folded in her lap.

  "Do you think?" Belle stared at her mother through soggy, hopeful eyes.

  "Yes," Antoinette said, settling into the back seat.

  "I just want to get these next few days over with," Toni said, climbing into the front passenger seat.

  "Me too," Belle sobbed, eyes checking the left hand mirror for oncoming cars.

  "So the first viewing is tonight?" Antoinette asked, her eyes locked on Belle's as her daughter glanced into the rearview mirror.

  With a grimace, Sara erupted, "Gran, you've got to help me. I want to make sure Mom didn't have them dress me in something stupid. Can you-"

  "Yes, at seven," Belle answered, drying her eyes as she slowly guided the car into the flow of traffic, "and we need to get there thirty minutes early. I guess they want us to-" Her words cut off in another sob.

  "Go on! That's not enough time!" Sara squawked, arms flailing. "Ask Toni what they picked out to dress me in."

  Antoinette frowned at Sara. "I'm sure the funeral director wants to make sure everything is done the way you asked, Belle, maybe we should add another fifteen minutes. I'd like to have some time alone with Sara before anyone else gets there."

  "Way to go, Gran!" Sara bounced with glee, her head popping in and out of the headliner. "I could kiss you! Now all you have to do is make sure Toni picked out my clothes."

  Belle pulled onto the highway. "We can do that, Mom. Remind me to call the director to tell him we're gonna get there a little earlier."

  "That's a great idea. I'd like to get there before anyone else too," Toni said, turning around in her seat with a smile.

  "What did you take for her to wear, Belle?" Antoinette asked, getting a squeal out of Sara.

  Toni rolled her eyes at her grandmother and shook her head.

  "Shit!" Sara said. "I knew it. Mom picked out the friggin' clothes!"

  "I picked out a lovely dress," Belle choked out.

  "A DRESS! Ohmigod, I'm so screwed," Sara said, diving halfway through the front seat. "What dress, Mom? Ask her what dress, dammit!"

  "I'm sure whatever you picked will be just fine, Jezebel," Antoinette said, a big smile on her face.

  "God'll get you for that, Gran!" Sara yelled, pulling herself out of the front seat, her chestnut eyes shooting daggers at Antoinette.

  ***

  Back at the Farrell's house, Ruth and Martin floated through the cement block wall, facing the front yard, and directly into the Farrell's living room.

  "I don't believe we've asked Sara where 'er father is, we 'aven't." Ruth glanced around the living room. "An'er mother 'as made no mention o' 'im either."

  Martin swaggered across the room, feet treading carpet as if it were beach sand, and stopped in front of the fireplace. He pointed to a picture on the mantle. "I'm thinking it's this very masculine man with the red hair and green eyes, dressed in a military uniform and decorated with medals."

  Ruth blew across the room and hovered beside Martin. "Seems so dear, 'e looks an awful lot like Toni, and look, there's a medal o' 'onor framed 'ere on the mantle, also. It's inscribed, it is."

  Martin's eyes moved to the inscription on the metal plate attached to the picture frame. "His name is Patrick Farrell. He died in an air strike at the end of the Gulf War."

  Ruth clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Shame, 'e looks like a nice man, 'e does, an 'e never got t'meet 'is daughters, 'e didn't."

  Martin was counting off the years on the fingers of his left hand when his head whipped around at the sound of gravel crunching under tires in the front yard. "Well, they're here. Let's hope Sara is with them."

  They both flew to the front windows, heads buried in the curtains.

  Martin started bouncing up and down, the balls of his feet pumping in and out of the carpet. "She's here! Sara's here!"

  "Y'seem t'be gettin' quite fond o'the little pisser offer, Martin, Blessyerworrisomesoul, and just like I thought, Gran's with 'er, she is."

  Martin almost blew away in a puff of smoke when he caught sight of Gran glaring at the front window. "Oh honey, Medusa's got nothin' on that old biddy; I swear those split ends hangin' in her face have teeth. I'm thinkin' we're smokin' stone. You?"

  "Never mind, dear, and be respectful, Martin. We need 'er help, we do, and we should offer ours in return, we should; t'keep an eye on Bartholomew fer 'er."

  Sara wafted through the front door, a look of anger on her face. She spotted Ruth and Martin and her eyes brightened. "Thank God you're both here! The witch is totally pissing me off!"

  "No!" Martin slapped his hand into his chest, eyes big with exaggerated skepticism.

  Toni pulled a suitcase on wheels through the door. "Come on, Gran; let's take your stuff up to the guestroom. I really need to talk to you about something."


  "Go up, Gran! Maybe it's about the clothes Mom took to the funeral home!" Sara shouted.

  The phone rang and Toni let out a noisy breath, set the luggage aside, and ran to get it. "Hello," she answered, watching her grandmother stare at the front window with a wrinkled forehead. "Yes, the viewing is tonight. Seven o'clock at the Golden Chapel Funeral Home in Reed City. Do you . . . "

  Sara shot towards Toni.

  Toni's voice faded as Antoinette said, "Belle, I need to eat something. Would you mind fixing a protein shack? All the stress from the trip has my blood sugar spiking."

  "Probably the three drinks you sucked down on the plane," Sara offered from the hall. "I mean, come on! Three?"

  Antoinette's brows slammed together as Sara flew out of the hall, and she clamped her mouth shut.

  Ruth and Martin exchanged a look of apprehension.

  Belle glanced around the room, tilted her head, and smiled at her mother. "Of course I don't mind making something, Mom. You and Toni go unpack and I'll call up when it's ready."

  "I think I'll step out back for a moment," Antoinette said with a nod, her eyes directed at Ruth, Martin, and Sara, spoke volumes. "I want to see how your garden is doing, Belle. You still have the rose bushes, don't you? I thought I'd pick a few to take to the funeral home; that is, if they're in bloom."

  "They are, and the russet ones are Sara's favorite. That's such a thoughtful idea." Belle set her keys on the dining room table and headed for the kitchen. "We'll talk later."

  "Another one of Sara's club members," Toni announced as she walked into the room. "She'd be so pleased to hear that they're all showing up tonight."

  Toni grabbed the handle of the suitcase and headed for the stairs. "You ready, Gran?"

  "Let's go upstairs, Gran," Sara said. "I really need you to handle the clothes issue with Toni."

  "Would you mind taking it up to the guest room for me, sweetheart?" Antoinette asked. "I was just saying I'd like to pick a few roses for Sara. I'll just be a minute."

  "You're so thoughtful," Toni said, and then whispered, "I'll wait for you upstairs. I really need to talk to you alone."