44 Book Four Read online

  I didn’t believe it for a long time. But now, after my time on the island, I knew in my heart that it was true. That I was alive only because of the injection. That his serum did, in fact, bring me back to life that terrible night and that it was Nathaniel Mortimer who had saved my life.

  It haunted me sometimes, the knowledge that I owed my life to such a man. During the day, I was pretty good about not thinking about it. But in those long, desperate hours after midnight, the thoughts exploded in my head and pinballed inside my skull and I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  I looked over at Kate. She was still lost in thought. I picked up the control and flipped it on, finding Sweet Genius, a reality show that I liked to watch sometimes.

  “That’s just life, isn’t it?” Kate said “You finally figure out what you want, but then it’s too damn late.”

  “He’ll be back, Kate,” I said. “He loves you.”

  I wondered why I had said that, when I knew that sometimes love just wasn’t enough.

  CHAPTER 13

  We weren’t able to close up on time so I texted Kate to let her know that I would be late.

  Thanks for the heads up. See you soon.

  Sometimes I hated Mike’s policy about how if a customer was sitting down and it was closing time, we couldn’t ask them to leave. We could start closing up, lock the doors, turn over the sign, but we had to wait patiently until they finished their drinks and left on their own.

  Sometimes waiting was tough. I was tired and wanted to go home. And the two women who were engaged in an animated conversation seemed like they were never going to stop talking, even with the chilly glares that Mo sent their way every few minutes.

  They also ignored us as we mopped and wiped down tables.

  “Time to go,” Mo said under her breath, a little louder than I was expecting, as she walked by them and collected a few dirty cups.

  But she was right. It was getting late and I found myself zoning out as I stood, staring into space. I was counting the hours that I had slept over the last three nights and had come up with eight. No wonder I was so emotional all day, and had felt like crying over nothing. It must have been all related to lack of sleep.

  I had even snapped at Ty earlier, when he called and told me he couldn’t come over for dinner on Friday. They had asked him to work that night. It was pretty stupid anyway because I was way too tired to be slaving away on the Bolognese Lasagna I had planned to cook, but I was still upset. I called him back later and apologized about my behavior.

  “No biggy,” he said. “I’m sorry too. Can’t we just do it on Thursday instead?”

  “No, that won’t work. But how about next week?”

  “Perfect,” he said.

  I yawned again and started emptying trashcans, hoping the two women might finally get that it was time to hit the road. But no hope was needed. Mo, at the end of her rope, walked over and told them that we were closing.

  “Screw the policy,” she said to me as she walked back over to the counter.

  I looked at clock. It was close to ten.

  “Bye, girls,” the larger woman said as she pushed open the door. Mo didn’t answer and I just gave a little wave to their backs.

  There were still a few things to do, but we worked well together now. I didn’t mind Mo’s silences anymore and appreciated that I didn’t have to try and think of something to say. It wasn’t like that with Mike. I was always stressing about topics when he came up front and we worked next to each other. I decided that it was nice working with Mo after all.

  I pulled down the blinds while Mo turned up a song by Rural Demons, a local band that sounded like a cross between a young Steve Earle and Edgar Allan Poe. She counted out the register. She was fast and took the money back to the safe.

  I still didn’t know much about Mo, but David could be counted on to pass along any gossip he heard about her. Like about how she had just broken up with the lead singer in her band. And about how Mike was trying to promote her into a management position for the new branch, but she didn’t want to do it.

  It had taken a while, but I finally realized that Mo and I both were at Bend High for a year. When I was a freshman, she was a senior. But back then she had real long, black hair and didn’t have the tattoos or piercings. She looked totally different, which was probably why it had taken me so long to put it together.

  I started sweeping the floor for the last time. I was humming along to the music but stopped suddenly, letting go of the broom.

  The ghost boy was sitting at the last table, staring at me.

  My heart thundered in my chest. It was time to figure out what he wanted.

  I gathered up my courage and inched closer. I could see his scars clearly now, deep and dark across his face and arms. He had been in an accident, I was sure of that. A real bad accident.

  I made my way over toward him. He was sitting on one of the chairs, his feet crossed in front of him. We looked at each other for a long time.

  “Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low. I didn’t want Mo to hear me talking out loud, thinking I was insane.

  “I’m Spenser,” he finally said, nodding.

  “Hi, Spenser,” I said. “So how old are you?”

  “Twelve,” he said, looking around the coffee shop.

  His dark hair was straight and thin, hanging past his shoulders. His pale skin bright against the shadows behind him.

  I tried to seem relaxed so I wouldn’t scare him away. But when I looked up at him again I saw that he was fading, disappearing before my eyes.

  “Do you need my help with something?” I asked, feeling my knees buckle.

  “I… I… messed up,” he said softly.

  “Messed up? What do you mean?” I asked.

  He just nodded, and looked back up at me, his eyes urgent.

  “Time is running out,” he said.

  I heard Mo come out from the back and he vanished, like he had never even been there.

  “Okay, you almost done?” she shouted to me over the music. “Time to get outta here.”

  “Yeah,” I said, taking off the apron, rubbing my arms to chase away the chills.

  What did he mean I was running out of time?

  At least I had a name. Spenser. It was a beginning.

  We quickly finished boxing up the day-old muffins for the homeless shelter and left them on the counter for the pickup in the morning and grabbed our stuff and headed toward the door.

  I turned abruptly to ask her if she had turned the lights off in the back when I caught sight of her arm and dropped my car keys on the floor.

  “Oops,” Mo said sarcastically.

  But I just stood there, paralyzed, staring.

  “Need help?” she said.

  I nodded, but couldn’t pry my eyes off the tattoo on her arm. I hadn’t ever seen that one before.

  It was a face.

  It was Spenser.

  CHAPTER 14

  I drove home in the dark, a combination of white flakes and rain falling steadily on the windshield, the wipers on high and the heat shooting out from all the vents.

  As I headed down Bond, I was wishing that Jesse would just appear out of nowhere and be here next to me in the passenger’s seat. I hadn’t seen much of him lately and now, after seeing the ghost and seeing Mo’s tattooed arm, I needed his help. I needed to talk to someone.

  On the other hand, I knew he wouldn’t want me to get involved with a ghost. The words were already on my tongue, but I held back from calling his name, from asking for help,

  Maybe I could talk to Kate. It was time to tell her, anyway, that I was seeing a ghost. I promised her that I would always tell her about any ghosts, visions, or strange energies surrounding people. I didn’t like to upset her, but I could see the importance of both of us knowing about those things.

  I pulled up into the driveway and clicked the garage door opener. At night, we always parked our cars inside the garage now. It was a tight fit and as I
drove in, I was careful not to scrape Kate’s Subaru.

  Kate opened the side door for me and I grabbed my bag and said hello as I walked into the house, the smell of fresh paint greeting me.

  “Good day?” she asked.

  “It was okay,” I said. “How about you?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Got it done.”

  We stood in the kitchen and I drank a glass of water. She told me about an interview she had with the forest service and the story she wrote. I told her about the chatty women who kept us working late and about how Mo finally kicked them out.

  “Good for her,” Kate said. “That’s tough when that happens. Reminds me of when I worked at Red Robin back in high school. You still get paid, but it’s not fun waiting around. I mean, just because someone’s making minimum wage doesn’t mean they don’t have a life.”

  “Hey, I don’t make minimum wage,” I said.

  I wasn’t that far from it, but still.

  “Stand down, Craig. No insult intended. I’m just saying, it’s not like you and Mo own the place and you’re making money off them. It’s late. Get the hell out. What are they doing drinking coffee at ten at night anyway?”

  “Who knows?” I said, yawning and rubbing my face.

  “Hey, come look at the bathroom. I finished it tonight. Just about every room in the house has been painted. I just have the hallway and your room left and I’m done.”

  I followed the strong smell. She had done a nice job. The walls were darker than before, but looked fresh and clean.

  “So it’s green?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Sage Green.”

  “Sounds nice,” I said. “I mean, looks nice. Really nice. You’ve done a great job. The entire house looks, I don’t know, elegant.”

  I yawned again.

  “You want to get to bed? We can watch the show tomorrow night instead.”

  I had forgotten that we had made plans to see an episode of Downton Abbey. But I shook my head.

  “No way. I want to see if Bates is charged with murder. Let me change and I’ll be right out.”

  Kate and I had just discovered the British TV show about rich people and their servants. It sounded boring when she suggested it but had turned out to be a great series. We started watching it two weeks ago and were already deep into the second season.

  I put on my pajamas, washed my face, and grabbed my new down comforter. I shuffled out to the living room and threw myself down on the slippery leather.

  “You want any dinner?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “Too late. I’m fine. I stuffed in a muffin at about eight.”

  “How about some tea? It would only take a minute.”

  “Nope, really I’m good.”

  “So how was the rest of your day?” she asked.

  “Fine.”

  I sat trying to think of a way to tell her about the ghost, but was having trouble finding the words.

  Kate paused the show and pulled her legs up, crossing them in front of her.

  “So what’s up?” she asked as she put down the remote.

  I smiled. I had forgotten that it wasn’t always so easy to hide things from her.

  I spilled it. Everything. I didn’t know if I was too tired or just desperate to tell someone, but I told Kate the entire story of seeing the ghost boy, out on the hiking trail, at the soccer park, and at work just a few hours ago. I made sure to emphasize that he didn’t scare me, that he wasn’t like Annabelle. He wasn’t angry or mean. He was just lost and needed some sort of help.

  Her eyes narrowed and I could tell she was worried.

  “Damn, Abby. I guess we should just be getting used to all this, but I wish they would leave you alone. But they don’t. They keep trying to pull you back down into their crap.”

  There was anger in her voice. I finished telling her anyway, about Mo and her tattoo.

  Kate sighed.

  “Well, what can I do to help? You want me to try and research this kid, see if we can find out what happened to him?”

  Kate was always Kate. My nose started stinging and I could feel the water pooling in my eyes as I thought about how lucky I was to have her in my life.

  “Abby, you okay?” she said.

  “I’m just tired,” I said. “Let me see what Mo says. I work with her again soon. Maybe it won’t be such a big deal. Maybe it’s kind of like a translation gig, you know? The ghost boy just wants to tell her something.”

  Kate shifted in the sofa.

  “Maybe it’s her brother,” she said.

  “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Thanks for listening. It helped.”

  “Good,” she said, picking up the control. “Always tell me these things, Abby. We’re in this together.”

  When she said that I almost lost it.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s see what happens to Mister Bates.”

  “God, I hate that guy,” Kate said as she started the show up.

  “Me too,” I said, the glow of the television bright in our faces.

  CHAPTER 15

  I picked up a pair of socks and wandered around Dick’s, checking out the Messi poster that was hanging above a display of jerseys. I had the same exact one in my room and had been looking for another, maybe one with the entire team, but they didn’t have any. I would have to find it online.

  It was an exciting time to be a Barcelona fan. They were looking strong as they headed into the quarterfinals of the Champions League. They also had a shot of winning La Liga, beating out their hated rivals, Real Madrid. And Messi looked as if he was a real contender for the Pichichi, the award given to the top scorer in the Spanish league.

  “That guy knows soccer,” a young guy said as he walked up to me.

  “No one better,” I said.

  I was surprised actually that someone in the store even knew about Lionel Messi. While most agreed he was one of the greatest soccer players ever at only 24 years of age, and while millions of people around the world watched him play every week, most Americans had no idea who he was.

  One of my dreams was to visit Spain someday and sit in the Camp Nou and watch my favorite team play a game. Messi, Iniesta, Carles Puyol, Xavi, Dani Alves. I wanted to watch Pep Guardiola, the best soccer coach in the world, coaching the best soccer team in the world.

  But my current wage of ten dollars an hour plus a few tips wasn’t going to get me there anytime soon. Although I had started saving a little from my paycheck every week, I was only up to $250 and my car registration was due next month.

  I made my way to the check out. There was a man in front of me and as I waited I pulled out my phone and checked for messages.

  Mike asked, again, if I could come in an hour early. I texted him back telling him I could. I knew I would be working with Mo and was planning on asking her about the boy who was tattooed on her arm.

  I always liked buying new soccer gear, even if it was just socks. It reminded me of the days when I played for my high school and flew all over that field, winning the ball and scoring. I was happy that I was playing again, but it wasn’t the same and sometimes it made me sad thinking that, save for the odd fantasy, my glory days were behind me. I could have been in college now if I hadn’t had the accident, maybe on a full scholarship, maybe even trying out for the US team.

  But whenever it got me down, I told myself that anything could have happened. Nothing was a sure thing. Like what happened with Amanda, my ex-friend who I used to play with. She was starting goalie last year at a California college but then blew out her knee.

  The cashier looked at me as I handed him my stuff, like he was waiting for something.

  “Come on, Abby,” he said, laughing. “Take a good look at my face.”

  It took me a moment to realize who it was.

  “Conner?” I said. “Wow, it’s really been a long time.”

  He came out from behind the register and gave me a hug before going back to ring up my things.

  “So, you’re
back playing soccer,” he said. “That’s good, Abby. I’m glad.”

  I smiled, not really sure what to say. The last time I had talked to him he told me he was breaking up with me so he could date a cheerleader.

  “It’s been forever,” he said, a little nervous. “Like we live in different cities or something. How have you been?”

  He flipped back his hair like he always used to do when we were dating in high school. It felt like a lifetime ago. It was strange not seeing him for all these years. But that’s how things were around here sometimes.

  “Fine,” I said. “How about you? What are you up to these days?”

  “Just working and going to school part time. I’ve been here at Dick’s for about a year. You know, the economy. But I’m taking classes over at the community college and I’ll be transferring to U of O next year.”

  “That’s great,” I said.

  “And you?” he asked, putting my stuff into a plastic bag.

  I was quiet as I slid my debit card through the machine and punched in my pin number, thinking of something to say. I looked behind me, hoping a customer would come up, but the store was pretty empty.

  “I work over at Back Street Coffee for now. Still trying to figure out the next move, I guess.”

  He nodded, his hair falling into his eyes and making him blink.

  “Well, it was nice seeing you,” I said, grabbing the bag and taking a few steps.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Hey, Abby, wait.”

  I stopped and turned back around facing him.

  “Do you think we could meet up sometime? I mean, just as friends. For coffee or a beer. You know. I always felt bad about how we ended.”

  You should, I thought. Conner had acted like a total loser, the way he broke up with me, and at the time it broke my heart. But now, looking at him, that all seemed so long ago and unimportant. It was almost like it hadn’t even happened.