End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) Page 15

  “Claudia, I know what I saw and I’m not crazy.”

  “Whatever, let’s get this over with, I’m hungry.”

  Claudia had cut her hair boy short since the last time I saw her and it didn’t do her narrow face and large ears any favors. I stood next to Candy and took advantage of Claudia not being able to see me by flipping her off. Georgia laughed.

  Candy closed her eyes, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. I watched the tip of her long lashes touch the skin under her eyes. Her lips were shiny with lip gloss and I knew it was strawberry scented. She had worn the same flavor ever since we started dating. Unlike her sister, Candy kept her hair long. Strands blew in the light breeze and I fought the urge to tuck the errant hair behind her ear, but had a feeling I needed to save my energy. She opened her eyes and asked, “Tobin, are you here with me?”

  I didn’t think tossing a rock at her would be convincing enough for Claudia, so I summoned up my energy, picked up a stick and wrote ‘yes’ in the sand by their feet. Claudia gasped and reached for her sister’s arm. Candy blurted out, “I told you so!”

  “Holy shit! Did that really just happen? Ask him another question,” Claudia urged, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

  “Are you alone?”

  I wrote no, me plus 6 others and dropped the stick, noticing my arm disappeared completely. My energy had run out.

  Lawrence came up beside me. “I will write the next answer, if you tell me what to say.” I nodded and waited for both Candy and Claudia to recover – they were both shaking. This was the first time that any of us had communicated with the living and the others moved in closer wearing matching expressions of amazement. Just with them being nearer, I grew stronger and my arm reappeared, although not as solid as it had been.

  “Are you in pain?”

  Lawrence looked at me for direction. “Tell her no.”

  After she read the answer Candy started to sob. “I’m sorry you didn’t live.” Claudia put an arm around her sister’s shoulder and held her.

  “Tell her that doesn’t matter. I only care that she and Egan are alive.” Lawrence struggled to get it all out, but managed and dropped the stick when he finished the sentence. Candy’s sobs grew heavier and Claudia asked the next question.

  “Were Candy and Egan saved by angels?”

  Georgia bent down and picked up the stick. She didn’t need me to tell her what to write. No, the other spirits pulled them out.

  Claudia was silent and contemplative. Candy cleared her throat and shook her hair back, getting herself under control. “Thank you. Thank you so much!” She said with a thick voice.

  “Why are you still here?” Claudia asked after a few moments of silence.

  Frank took the stick from Georgia, who was fading fast and almost invisible. We don’t know.

  “Oh.”

  Claudia grabbed her sister’s hand, “Candy, we have to leave to get Egan from daycare.”

  I moved closer to my wife and hoped she’d feel my presence. Summoning all of my remaining energy, I touched her cheek. It was a light caress, as my supply was limited, but I saw goose bumps travel down her arm. She gasped and stared in my direction.

  “I’ll come back,” she promised.

  She did come back with her parents and Claudia, plus my parents, my brother and a camera. My mom cried when the answers started appearing in the sand. My brother stood with his mouth hanging open while my father paced behind the group. He was a religious man and having his oldest son communicate from the great beyond surely tested his faith. Claudia took pictures with the digital camera while her parents stood in stunned silence, much like my brother.

  “Why can’t we see you?” my mom asked.

  Peggy was holding the stick this time. We don’t know. Some have been able to before. One of the first things I learned about Peggy was how seeing Lawrence, Juanita, Frank and Georgia on the side of the road caused her to wreck.

  “Maybe we can bring a psychic?” my mom asked, directing the question toward Candy.

  At this suggestion, my dad stopped pacing and faced her. “That is preposterous! There is no such thing as a ‘psychic’, just someone really good at ripping people off.”

  “But Bruce, don’t you want to see our son?”

  “I do, God knows I do, but he’s gone from our world Karen, you have to accept that.”

  “Bruce, his life was snatched away too soon. We didn’t get a chance to say good bye.” She collapsed into tears again. My brother, Gavin, put his arm around her and glared at our father.

  I asked Peggy for the stick and wrote in the sand, don’t fight over me. I underlined this - twice.

  “Dad, I want a psychic to come up here too. Maybe he, or she, can help Tobin move on.”

  “Absolutely not. There are greater forces at work here. We shouldn’t interfere.”

  “Well, I’m his wife and you can’t tell me what to do,” Candy said, her head raised high and her chin forward. I laughed and knew my dad had met his match. Once Candy dug her heels in, she wouldn’t budge.

  They stared at each other, a face-off with my last words creating the line in the sand. Georgia told me that my dad reminded me of hers. She mimicked a shudder.

  “We’ll discuss this later,” my dad said and walked away from the group. “I’ll be in the car.”

  “Don’t worry Tobin, honey. We’ll come back and will help you,” my mom said before everyone left.

  Weeks went by and no one came to visit. From the second the sun started to lighten the sky in the east, I’d wait. Georgia would often accompany me. We were closer in age when we died and I spent hours telling her about video games, cell phones and the Internet.

  ***

  Gavin paid me a visit just as I was convinced my family had moved on. He stood near the spot where Candy had left flowers. The petals were long gone. Only shriveled up stems and a faded bow, which was fraying at the ends, remained.

  He didn’t say anything at first, just rubbed the toe of a sneaker in the sand. His hands were in his jeans pockets, his shoulders hunched forward, and his shaggy hair hung in his face.

  “Tobin? Are you still here?”

  Yes, I wrote in the sand by the groove his foot had gouged. His lips twitched up on one side into a smirk.

  “I knew it! Dad’s been making us go to church twice a week so we can pray for you to crossover. I told him that I didn’t think it would work.”

  That’s Dad, I wrote.

  “Yeah. He convinced Mom that it isn’t healthy to dwell and come up here. I’m not supposed to be here either, but…whatever.”

  You’re driving?

  “Cool, huh? I got my license three weeks ago. I’m saving up for a car. The wagon cramps my style.” Gavin turned back toward the highway where the beat up station wagon with faded wooden paneling was parked.

  How’s Egan? Candy?

  “Good, they’re doing well. Candy has a hard time coming up here. She says she cries for days after.”

  Oh.

  “Hey Tobin…what’s it like?”

  What’s what like?

  “Being a ghost or whatever you are?”

  I had to hand the stick off to Georgia, who was closest to me. It’s hard to explain. We’re stuck here. I told her to write.

  “Huh.” He paused and started working at the groove in the sand again. The black fabric of his Converse faded under a layer of dust. “Did it hurt when you died?” he asked.

  I think it did, but the memory of the pain doesn’t stay with you.

  “Good, that’s really good to hear, man. Hey, I gotta get back so I’m not late for dinner. You know how dad freaks out. This is cool. I miss talking to you bro.”

  Having recovered some of the energy, I asked Georgia for the stick. I miss you too. I’m still here – kinda.

  “Yeah. I’ll come back.

  Ok.

  I watched as he walked to the car and wished that I could go with him. We’d drive to my parent’s house and I’d have seconds of
my mom’s spaghetti and meatballs. Just like old times. Then I’d go home to Candy and play with Egan; hear his laughter one more time.

  Frank came up and stood by my side. “You’re one lucky guy.”

  “Ha!” I said. Bitterness hung on that one syllable. “You call being stuck here lucky?”

  “No, but at least your family comes to see you. No one came to see me…or anyone else.”

  “I’d do anything to see my family again,” Lawrence whispered.

  They moved away and went to join the others who had formed a semi-circle around me. We were a strange, dysfunctional family kept together by unseen forces.

  ***

  Gavin’s visits became less frequent. He brought his girlfriend up the summer before he left for college and she freaked out when I wrote to him in the sand. After that he stopped coming. I didn’t blame him. He had a life to live.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  JUANITA

  It was another day for us. The sun blazed and traffic whipped by on the highway. No storms threatened in any direction, so not being able to charge up on extra energy meant for a boring day. Bob stood in the middle of the interstate and enjoyed the thrill of cars passing through him. He once told me he did this because even in death he was looking for a high.

  A new Mercedes pulled over to the shoulder next to our clearing. Sun reflected off of its silver paint and Frank whistled. “Now that’s a beautiful car,” he said.

  We all watched with interest as an older Hispanic woman stepped out from the driver’s side. Large sunglasses took up most of her face. Her mouth was drawn down in a frown. She walked around and opened up the passenger side. A cane appeared first, followed by a shriveled up man, topped with thinning white hair. He towed an oxygen tank behind him; the narrow wheels kept getting stuck in the sand, so the woman picked it up and carried it beside her with ease.

  The old man paused and surveyed the area before moving forward. The odd couple made slow progress across the strip of land and came to rest in the shade of my tree.

  “Uncle Pedro, what is this all about?” the woman asked. At the mention of my brother’s name I moved closer. Underneath the deep creases of wrinkles and the bushy white eyebrows, were familiar brown eyes. I inhaled sharply and stared intently at his face.

  “I needed to come here and there’s something I have to tell you,” the man gasped, trying to catch his breath.

  The woman crossed her arms over her chest and stared out across the valley. Sweat dripped down from her temple and landed on the collar of her hot pink shirt. The color contrasted nicely against her dark skin. I admired her thick, curly hair that even though it was streaked with gray, reminded me of my daughter’s curls. Recognition began to tug at my memories.

  “Under this tree is where your mother died,” the old man finally said. I let out a choking sound, part wail. Everyone had gathered around me.

  “Juanita, what is it?” Georgia asked. I couldn’t answer for I had one hand over my mouth and the other was reaching out towards Mariella.

  “Uncle Pedro, what are you saying? My mother died when she gave birth to me.”

  “No, no,” Pedro’s head dropped to his chest and his breathing became more labored. “We made up a stupid story…I don’t even remember why. Shame, maybe? It was so long ago.”

  “Uncle, as your doctor, I think you need to get out of this heat,” she tried to steer my brother back to the car. He stubbornly held his ground.

  “Mariella, you need to hear the truth!” He drove his cane into the sand and refused to move.

  The confirmation of her name was all I needed and I faced my friends, the group that had become my family over the decades. Lawrence appeared more solid, summoning up energy from who knows where, and put his hand on my shoulder. “She’s my daughter! Ay dios mio, my niña! She’s alive…and a doctor!”

  “Are you sure?” Lawrence asked.

  “Si, yes I’m sure! I never thought I’d see her again…shhh listen to mi hermano.” Pedro had begun to tell Mariella our story.

  “Your mother wanted a better life for you. We were on our way to meet your Uncle Enrique in Prescott when she was bitten by a rattlesnake…twice. She was almost dead when I placed her in the shade of this tree. Enrique and I were going to come back for her, but we got picked up by immigration and deported.”

  So that’s why he never came back, I thought. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. Pedro held true to his promise and raised Mariella right. The strong, smart woman I always wanted her to be stood before me. A wedding ring flashed on her left hand when she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. A useless gesture for seconds later Mariella shook her head, freeing the hair and a tear slipped from her right eye. “She died here? Alone?”

  Pedro nodded and reached for his niece with a shaking hand. I moved closer too and began concentrating on the energy around us, in the trees and the cacti. My eyes were closed and energy prickled through me. When I was strong enough, I reached out to rest a hand on top of Pedro’s. He jerked his head up and moved his hand away; allowing mine to land on my daughters. Mariella gasped and looked down. Her gaze then traveled up my arm to meet my eyes.

  “Mama?” she asked and I smiled. She had closely resembled her father when she was a baby, but, up close I saw more of my mother in her features, from the crow’s feet around her deep, brown eyes to the slight cleft in her chin. Pedro coughed and I turned to him. He smiled hesitantly at first, but then his smile grew wider. He had a few less teeth and more lines around his mouth, but his grin was the same. This is what I had been waiting for; a chance to see my family again. At that moment a sense of complete peace washed over me and my energy wasn’t quivering on the brink of exhaustion.

  “You came back,” I said. “I thought I’d been forgotten.”

  “Never,” Pedro said. “I wish I had come sooner. Have you been here the whole time?”

  “Si,” I reached for Mariella’s hand again and managed to hold it. Her grip was firm, her hands soft and warm. “You’re a doctor?” I asked her.

  “Yes, an Oncologist.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I specialize in cancer.”

  “Oh,” I paused and glanced at the oxygen tank Pedro was hooked up to.

  “I have lung cancer, Juanita. I don’t have much longer, which is why we’re here.”

  “No!” I grabbed his hand and we stood in a small circle with our hands linking us together.

  “Will I be stuck on earth like you?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t happen to everyone.”

  “I see.” He lowered his head and seemed to doze off.

  “Uncle Pedro, you need to get out of this heat,” Mariella said, tugging gently on his arm and he jerked awake. I could see the dark half-moons under his eyes. “Mama, I’m sorry, but he isn’t well.”

  “I understand. Just seeing you and knowing you’re okay…” I squeezed her hand one last time before releasing it. “Please, before you go, do you have children?”

  Mariella’s face softened and she smiled. “Yes, two sons and a daughter. Her name is Juanita. I have grandchildren too.”

  She placed her arm underneath Pedro’s and guided him back to the car. After getting him situated, Mariella came back with something black in her hand.

  “I have pictures,” she said and light bounced off of the object she was holding. Turns out it was a telephone. Tobin informed me it was something called an iPhone.

  “Wait,” I set my hand on hers. “Don’t you think this is strange? You’re talking to the ghost of your mother.”

  Mariella regarded me with her dark eyes, her head cocked to one side. “No…yes. Well, not really. Cancer isn’t a forgiving disease and a number of my patients have hovered on the edge of death. I tend to keep an open mind about what happens afterwards. Plus, I think I’m in shock or maybe I’m dreaming?”

  I nodded and removed my hand. Mariella punched her fingers against the phone then held it out for me to see. At first th
ere was a glare, so she used her other hand to block the sun.

  “Here’s Tomas, he’s twelve and my oldest grandson.” She pointed to a boy with Francisco’s mischievous, lopsided grin. I had to take a step back. Now I was the one in shock. She swiped her finger across the screen and a new picture appeared.

  “Here’s Pedro, named after you know who,” she chuckled, “He’s ten.” A boy with a head of dark, thick curls smiled back at me.

  “Oh, here’s Juanita,” Mariella said when she swiped the screen again. “The two boys are hers.” I regarded my namesake. She had a big smile that lit up her face. Laugh lines framed her mouth and fanned out from large dark eyes framed with thick lashes. The shape of her face was like Mariella’s as was her thick, curly hair. If I had a heartbeat I knew it would be racing. It was almost too much – to be able to see my daughter, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Mariella gave me a few moments before moving on to the next picture. My great-granddaughter resembled me when I was her age. A long braid hung over her shoulder, decorated at the end with a bright red ribbon. Her eyes seemed shy and veiled by long lashes.

  “They’re beautiful,” I whispered after we had gone through the pictures. They were and happy too. When Mariella pulled up a picture of her and husband, the love they shared for each other was easy to see, from the way he held her close and to the smile on her face. “Thank you for showing me.”

  “De nada,” she said and looked back at her car. “I really need to get Uncle Pedro home. I’d like to come back?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll be here,” I said. During our reunion a tugging sensation kept nagging at me, as if trying to pull me away. I had never experienced this feeling before and something told me that it was time for me to move on.

  “Oh,” She bit on her lower lip and I could see she was struggling with something. “Well, goodbye then.” She started walking back to her car.

  “I love you niña!” I called after her. She stopped and turned back to face me. Tears glistened on her cheeks and she smiled, sadness dampening some of its earlier luster.