The Guidance

by Marley Gibson

  "Let's do the spirit-art thing," I say, almost bouncing in my seat.

  Celia pulls a sketchpad from her book bag, along with a tray of pencils. She sharpens a couple and lays them next to the blank sheet of paper and a gigantic pink eraser. "Ready when you are, chief."

  I inhale a deep breath. "Okay, you see, Cel here is wicked good at drawing. So what I do is describe the spirit that I see in my head or however they show themselves to me. It's like getting a police-artist sketch. Then we can show it to the family or whoever to see what the connection is to the deceased."

  With a nod of her head, Mom seems intrigued. "I'd very much like to see you two do this."

  "Excellent!"

  Celia frowns. "Who do you want to draw though, Kendall?"

  "Oh, I've got it! Let's draw Emily!"

  "Who's Emily?" Mom asks.

  "The ghost that lives here in the house." When I witness Mom's cheeks pale, I reassure her. "She's nice, Mom. Don't worry. Pretty too. You'll like her."

  Her hand slips up to grip her neck like she's trying to force herself to breathe ... to accept. "I'm not too sure, Kendall."

  "It'll be cool. Let's do it."

  I close my eyes and center my breathing, slowing it, almost. I block out the sound of Kaitlin moving around on the upper floor and the pot roast bubbling away on the stove. The sole focus of my attention is Emily. I've seen her so many times, it's like conjuring up an old friend in my memory. However, she helps out by appearing for me, right next to Celia.

  Trying not to freak out Mom any more, I speak to Emily in my head.

  Thanks, Emily!

  "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Kendall."

  Why not?

  "Your mother is very skeptical. I don't want her to send me away."

  Don't be silly, Emily. No one's sending you away until you're ready to go.

  I begin describing my spirit friend. "She has long dark hair and soft green eyes, not too far apart. Her nose is slender, as is her face. And she's really pale."

  Celia glances at me over her notepad. "She's a ghost, Kendall. Of course she's pale."

  That gets a laugh out of Mom.

  Over the next fifteen minutes, I describe Emily from memory and by how she appears to me now at the kitchen table. I decide to have Celia give her a pretty smile instead of the glower she's tossing at me.

  What?

  "I just don't like this, Kendall."

  I need the practice, Emily.

  "I wish your friend wouldn't practice on me."

  You're just being silly.

  "Almost done," Celia says. I love watching her draw. She's like a five-year-old with a crayon in her hand for the first time. Her tongue hangs out of her mouth and circles her lips, as if she's sketching with it as well as the pencil. Her eyes are focused on her task, and then a smile breaks out over her face. As she flips the notepad around, she says, "Ta-da!"

  "Awesome! You drew her perfectly!" I exclaim.

  My joy is short-lived though; Mom sucks in an enormous gulp of air and nearly falls out of her seat.

  "Mom! Are you okay?"

  "Miss Sarah?"

  "Wh-wh-where did you see that woman?" she asks through short breaths.

  "What do you mean? This is Emily. The ghost here in our house."

  Mom's eyes tear up, and her face reddens. "That's impossible."

  "What is it, Miss Sarah? You look like you've seen ... well, a ghost."

  Mom regains her balance, stands, and pushes the chair back to the table. She turns and heads to the fridge, where she grabs a bottle of water. I watch the liquid disappear in three, four huge gulps. Mom is shaking and is afraid to tell me something. Fear radiates off her in a halo of light. Her aura is a shocking muddy blue to my eyes. Quickly, I dig my aura-meaning reference out of my bag and flip to the right section. The color I'm seeing means fear of the future, fear of self-expression, fear of facing or speaking the truth.

  What truth? My mom's no liar. Maybe I'm just wigging her out with all of this. Yet I swear I saw recognition in her eyes when Celia showed her the drawing of Emily.

  I silently cross the room and touch Mom in the middle of her back. She jumps three feet in the air, like she's been zapped with a Taser. "Mom? Are you okay?"

  Her back is still turned, but I sense her calming herself and compressing her unease into a neat pocket somewhere deep inside her stomach. "I'm fine, dear. Just overwhelmed to actually see this ghost you say is in our house."

  Celia brings the drawing to us. "She's not frightening though, Miss Sarah. Look how pretty she is. So young. I wish she'd tell Kendall how she died."

  Mom swallows. "You don't know?"

  "No, I don't. Emily won't tell me anything. Says she's just here to guide me, that's all. But it's a mystery I'd love to solve." Emily's still standing next to the kitchen table, not pleased with me at all. Her eyes reflect a gloominess that I'm sorry I brought on. Maybe she thinks Mom and Dad will force her to leave me now. "Emily's just a little older than I am and she'd never do anything to hurt me. It's like having a big sister, almost."

  Mom begins to choke, and lifts the plastic bottle to finish off the water that's left in it.

  The ends of my fingers tingle where I'm connected to Mom, and I'm wondering if she's hiding something from me. That fear of facing the truth that her aura is radiating; she couldn't...

  "Do you know her, Mom?"

  She spins toward me, horror painted on her face. "What? I don't see spirits like you do!"

  "No, I mean, did you know her when she was alive?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about, Kendall." She rushes around the butcher block in the middle of the kitchen to tend to the pot roast on the stove. The rich savory aroma no longer appeals to me; instead, it makes me feel a little nauseated. Deep in my heart of hearts, I know my mother is lying to me. The woman who taught me the Ten Commandments. The one who punishes me when I'm caught in a fib. She's ducking the truth on this, and I want to know why.

  "You do recognize her." I grab the notepad from Celia. "Look at her again, Mom. Who is she? I need to know!"

  She pushes the sketch away. "Kendall, enough of this." Her breathing is ragged, but then, she composes herself. "I simply thought she looked like this woman I saw on Inside Edition the other afternoon. A woman who was wanted for the murder of her boyfriend in Buffalo."

  "Since when do you watch Inside Edition?"

  "Oh, you know, I was cleaning and the TV was on. I just remember seeing a drawing like that. It's really no big deal. I'm still not altogether crazy about the idea of someone else living with us, watching us eat and sleep and bathe."

  Emily giggles in my head. At least she's not still mad at me.

  "Emily doesn't watch us bathe."

  Mom hugs me and kisses the top of my head. "That's what I get for watching those awful TV shows. I'm sorry I reacted negatively. You have a great talent, Celia. I think the two of you make a wonderful team."

  I grit my teeth together and grind them a bit. "So, you don't think that Emily's some black-widow killer or what have you?"

  Mom stirs the vegetables. "No, certainly not."

  However, the muddy blue aura still surrounds her. What does my mother have to hide? What isn't she telling me, and how does her seeing Emily fit into all of this?

  "Celia, why don't you stay for supper?" Mom asks. "There's going to be plenty of food."

  Somewhat rattled by the whole scene, Celia finally perks up. "Sure thing, Miss Sarah. Beats another night of Alice's cooking."

  "You girls run along and wash up while I get this finished."

  As we head up the staircase to my room, Emily stops me on the fourth step.

  I'm so sorry about that, Em. Mom's trying to understand me.

  "You don't have to apologize, Kendall."

  I will get to the bottom of who you are.

  "Please don't, Kendall. Let me just be your friend and guide you like I'm supposed to do."

  I'm pretty stern though. When t
his case with Courtney's over, we'll talk.

  And with that, Emily fades away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Emily wasn't around this morning when I woke up, although Sonoma the Bear had been moved from my rocking chair to my bed in the middle of the night. I guess she's giving me some distance after the whole freak-out with Mom; I've hardly seen her this whole week.

  Saturday, I help Mom out in the yard, planting some bushes around the back fence. I never knew her to have such a green thumb, but she seems motivated to be the Happy Homemaker today. Plus, it's good spending time with Mom as just her daughter, not the kid she's worried about.

  Mom and Dad have a dinner date with another couple, so Jason comes over to watch movies with me and hang out. Kaitlin's got Penny Carmickle sleeping over, and I'm allegedly chaperoning. All I want to do, though, is lock them in her room, turn off the lights, and make out with Jason.

  He seems annoyed with me. Has he seen the drawing of Emily too? As one of my favorite movies of all time, French Kiss, plays on the DVR, I try to snuggle into the nook of Jason's arm.

  "Can't we watch Iron Man?"

  "I thought you wanted to watch something romantic," I say with a frown.

  "No, Kendall, I said I wanted romantic time with you."

  I spread my hands wide. "What do you call this?"

  He rolls his eyes skyward. "I call it baby-sitting."

  "Yeah, sorry about that. It was the only way Mom and Dad would let us be alone in the house."

  He harrumphs. "Don't they trust you?"

  I laugh at him and pick at the zipper of his hoodie. "I don't think they trust you."

  Jason sighs hard and removes his arm from around me. "Jesus, Kendall. How many people's permissions do I have to get to be with you?"

  I sit up, and my mouth drops open. "No one's. I mean, what are you talking about?"

  He stands and nearly trips on the sneakers he discarded when he got here an hour ago with pizza, soda, and a smile. "Between not having classes together at school and you always being with my sister, Celia, and Becca, and all of your ghost hunting, and this obsession with what Courtney's going through—"

  "Hey! Now, wait a minute. I—"

  "And now your parents not trusting us to be together and you having to baby-sit. Not to mention your imaginary friend who's constantly around. It gives me the creeps knowing she's always watching us." He spins back to me, his blue eyes ablaze. "When do I rate some of your time, Kendall? I'm your boyfriend."

  "I know, Jason! I'm so sorry. There's just so much going on, you know that."

  "That's the sad thing, Kendall. I do know it. You know how long it's been since we just hung out, you and me?"

  "We're hanging out now."

  "With your little sis and her friend upstairs."

  "We went bowling," I say meekly.

  He throws his hands up. "Yeah, with Taylor and Ryan and Celia and Dragon and—"

  "I know—"

  "And it turned into a ghost investigation."

  My chest hurts over his words. Not 'cause he's being mean, but because he's right. I don't make him cookies or leave him love notes or fix up for him like I should. I look down at my ratty jeans and Bobby Hull Chicago Blackhawks hockey jersey that I love so much. Would it have killed me to put on a little eye shadow and blush and foof up my hair and wear one of those new outfits from my Atlanta shopping spree?

  "Jason, I'm sooooooo sorry."

  I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his firm waist. He's hesitant, but he finally gives in and hugs me back. "It's hard being with you, Kendall."

  "Why?" I ask, muffled against his chest.

  "Because I'm never just alone with you."

  Pulling away a little bit, I stare dreamily into his amazing eyes that had me from the get-go. "We're alone now," I say with a tease in my voice.

  He smiles. "Sort of."

  Feeling bold, I lift up on my tiptoes and place my lips on Jason's. At first, he's a little stiff and distant, then he cuddles me into his arms, nearly raising me off my feet as he deepens the kiss. Ahhh ... there we go. That's much better.

  We work our way over to the couch in the flickering light of the television. Images of Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline traipsing through the French countryside fade into the distance and all I concentrate on is the feel of Jason's mouth on mine and his taut, athletic body lying next to me as we make out on the couch.

  I love kissing. It's so personal. And so giving. There's nothing like it. I think I was born to do nothing but kiss this boy. His lips are soft and full, and he certainly knows what he's doing. I don't want to think about all the practice he's had before me—especially not the hours spent with Courtney Langdon. I hope he thinks I'm as good a kisser as she was. God, I shouldn't think of things like that. Jason must think I'm a good kisser too 'cause he does this little moany-groan thing when our tongues touch. It's like the best dessert I've ever had without the guilt of thousands of evil calories.

  Jason's hands get a little bold, roaming across my stomach and into the waistband of my jeans. I wiggle a little bit to resist. However, I'm also enjoying his warm touch as his fingers grip my stomach and bunch up my shirt. I unzip his hoodie and push it off his arms. I want to be closer to him. I can feel his body heat through the thin Atlanta Braves T-shirt he's wearing. He moves in again to nip at my lips and continue our soulbonding kiss.

  Everything's going just fine until his hands move lower on my belly, dangerously close to the snap of my jeans. Then—pop!—the first button fly is loose. I'm exhilarated! I'm scared shitless! I don't know if I'm ready to take this to the next level with Jason. Certainly not with my little sister and her best friend upstairs. We've only been dating a couple of months after all, and we haven't really had a lot of quality time together. But I am enjoying the sensations rippling through me. Things I've never felt before.

  Right now, I'm not a psychic, a sensitive, or a ghost huntress. I'm just Kendall, Jason's girlfriend.

  Maybe one more button, but I won't let it go any further.

  Then Jason reels back. "Ouch!"

  My eyes jerk open. "What?"

  "Shit, Kendall! Why'd you pull my hair?"

  "I didn't." Did I? I mean, my fingers were woven into his soft tresses at one point, though I don't remember tugging on them. In fact, I know I didn't.

  His eyes are dark as he peers down at me. He looks perturbed.

  "I would have stopped. All you had to do was say so," he says, releasing a pent-up sigh.

  "I swear, I didn't pull your hair. One of my hands was on your back and the other was ... well, it was sort of on your butt." The heat of my blush raises my temperature to a feverish degree.

  Jason sits up and reaches to the floor for his hoodie. Suddenly, he falls off the couch and hits the hardwood floor with a resounding boom.

  "Damn it! Why'd you go and do that?"

  I scramble up and rebutton my jeans. Diving for the nearest light, I turn it on and look around to see if Kaitlin's in here mucking with us. "I swear I didn't do anything, Jason. Maybe you just slid off."

  He stuffs his arms into his zip-up and huffs at me. "I got kicked off the couch and you know it! What's the deal, Kendall? I thought we were having a good time."

  "We were!"

  I'm perplexed about why this is happening. We were making out and getting in to each other, and it's like my parents walked in and caught us in the act of—

  Suddenly, it's very clear to me.

  Emily.

  "Emily! You're intruding."

  He was taking advantage of you, Kendall.

  "Oh my God! It's not taking advantage when I'm going along with it. You know, the whole takes-two-to-tango thing?" And baby, we were tangoing.

  Jason runs his hands through his mussed hair. "I don't believe this. You're talking to your ghost, aren't you?"

  "Emily pulled your hair and kicked you, Jason. Not me. She's really protective of me."

  "Are you kidding?" he asks derisively. "You don't need prote
ction from me. I love you!"

  "I love you, too. Emily, leave us alone, please!"

  The boy wanted to have his way with you.

  "So what?" Not that I was gonna go all the way or anything.

  Don't make the same mistake I made.

  "What mistake was that?"

  "I'm not a mistake," Jason says.

  "I wasn't talking to you."

  Jason jams his feet into his sneakers, not even bothering to untie them first. "Great. Now you're talking to her instead of me, or whoever. I can't do this, Kendall. Either you're with me or you're with your ghost friends."

  "Jason, please. I'm finally getting some clues on who Emily is and trying to—"

  "I don't want to hear it, Kendall." He snatches the keys to his Jeep off the top of our piano, which is by the front door. "Call me when you have time for me, okay?"

  "Jason, don't leave!"

  Too late. I'm staring at his back, and then the door slams shut.

  If I weren't so pissed off, I'd cry.

  Emily, I swear to God ...

  Don't do that, Kendall. I was just protecting you.

  "Look, ghost! I already have a mother. I don't need another guardian."

  I have to watch out for you, Kendall ...

  "Umm, no, you don't. I didn't ask for you to be in my life and I didn't request that you run my boyfriend off. Thanks for ruining my night."

  Please don't be that way. I only did what I thought was right. Boys get carried away and girls are too emotional to stop them ...

  I grab my hair, wanting to jerk every strand out of my head from frustration. "Ugh! Why don't you find someone else to haunt, Emily."

  With that, I storm up the stairs, bang the door to my room shut ... and I do cry.

  Sunday morning, I have a heartache hangover. I tried calling Jason last night, but it went straight to voice mail. Fine. I needed to get some sleep anyway, which I did. Emily didn't bother me and I didn't even wake up when Mom and Dad got home.

  My dreams were racked with images of ghosts and spirits and all of the conflicts in my life. Jason was there in the distance, standing apart, as Celia, Taylor, Becca, and I investigated an old abandoned warehouse. Courtney was there, channeling the spirit of every ghost who'd ever been in this building. She was crying out to me, begging for help, asking that I do everything in my power to free her. I awakened with a jolt, knowing I have to exorcise this chick from my life. Only then can I make things right with Jason.