Inbetween (Kissed by Death, #1) (15 page)

Chapter 19

Emma

“Who is he?” Mom leaned on the counter, studying my face intently.

I finished dumping the rest of the lettuce into the big wooden salad bowl. “What are you talking about?”

“Just tell me it’s not Cash.” She held her hands up in surrender. “I don’t think I could take that.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “It’s not Cash. It’s not anybody.”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing, it doesn’t take ten minutes to make a bag salad for one,” she said, grinning. “And it definitely doesn’t require that much smiling.”

Heat blossomed across my cheeks and I tossed the tongs in the bowl. Stupid salad. Stupid
me
for standing here daydreaming about a guy who didn’t even have a heartbeat! I closed my eyes and pressed my palms to the counter so that I could feel grounded, and not like I was about to float off into space. It was useless. Anytime I closed my eyes, Finn was there. Smiling. Laughing. Almost kissing me. My heart hammered out a happy rhythm just thinking about him.

Everything else in my life might have been in shreds, but in that moment, with Mom in the kitchen and Finn in my heart, I felt happy. I felt like I wanted to be alive. Whatever that took. Whatever it meant. I wanted more of what I had with Finn. I wanted more time with Cash. More time with my mom. For the first time in a long time I felt like I had something to look forward to. And there was no way I was letting anyone take it from me.

Mom laughed at my smile and tucked a strawberry-blond wave behind her ear. “That’s exactly how I looked the day your dad kissed me for the first time.”

I breathed through the tight feeling in my chest, wishing she’d go on. She never talked about Dad anymore. And she had no idea how much I needed her to. Anything to bridge this always-widening gap between me and the memory of him. “How did it happen?”

She looked up at me surprised. “I’ve never told you?”

I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek.

“Well, it was a disaster.” She laughed and touched her lips. “It was supposed to be our second date, but I got sick. So I called and canceled because I didn’t want to infect him.”

I smiled, trying to picture it.

“But your Dad…he wouldn’t give up that easily. He drove over to my dorm anyway and brought me soup and a movie. He said he didn’t care if he got germs as long as they were mine.”

“So, he kissed you then?”

“No.” She stirred the spaghetti sauce I had on the stove, then turned back to me. “No, first I spilled hot soup on him. And
then
he kissed me.”

I laughed and rinsed a pan that smelled like oregano and garlic. I tried to picture what my dad would have been like back then but I couldn’t. All I could picture was Finn with his lips so close to mine it made my chest hurt in a way I’d never felt before.

“Do you feel that way about the new guy?” I asked, scrubbing the pan a little harder.

She sighed. “I’m not looking for a replacement for your dad. I’m just looking for someone to have a life with. To be happy with.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

She was quiet for a moment but finally said, “Yes. Parker makes me very happy. It’s different than with your dad, but nice.”

I thought about how happy Dad had made us. How he’d make us pancakes on Saturday mornings and tell cheesy knock-knock jokes while we ate.

“Knock knock,” he said and stuffed a giant bite of banana pancake into his mouth. I couldn’t wait to answer.

“Who’s there, Daddy?”

“Cows go.” He set his fork down and smiled at Mom, who beamed back at him.

“Cows go who?” I asked.

“Cows don’t go who, Emma. They go moo.”

The doorbell rang, shattering the memory, and I set the pan in the sink. “Is that him?”

“Yes.” She sighed and darted over to the mirror on the wall to check her hair. “Be nice, Emma. He’s really excited about meeting you.”

I dried my hands on a dish towel. He might have been excited about meeting me, but I couldn’t say I felt the same. How was I supposed to be excited when the conversation with Mom had left memories of my dad swirling around in my head like a dream? A dream I didn’t want to wake up from. Mom reached over and pulled the rubber band out of my hair, so that it tumbled down in waves over my shoulders. “Be nice,” she said again.

Of all the things Finn had saved me from, why couldn’t he save me from this? My fingers settled on the doorknob, stalling, and the doorbell rang again.

“Emma! Answer it!” Mom called from the kitchen.

I sighed and pulled the door open to find my mom’s new boyfriend on the other side, surrounded by trick-or-treaters. He grinned and stepped back to let a miniature Spider-Man and a princess rush up to the door. “Trick or treat!”

I’d almost forgotten it was Halloween. It was hard to remember holidays when your life felt like Halloween every day. I missed the days when Cash and I used to dress up and terrorize the neighborhood. Well, Cash terrorized. I usually just helped him take the blame in exchange for half of his candy. Mom pointed to a bag of candy on top of the fridge and I grabbed it.

“Here you go, guys.” I dumped a handful of mini Kit Kats into their sacks, then watched them run around Parker to get to the next house. I gave him a hesitant smile and set the bag of candy outside so I wouldn’t have to keep answering the door.

“You must be Emma. Wow, it’s nice to finally meet you.” He stuck out his hand and I mechanically shook it, not really knowing what to say. All I could think was,
If Dad wasn’t dead, I wouldn’t be meeting you.

I pulled my hand away and stepped aside so he could come in. “Um…yeah. Nice to meet you, too.”

He was cute. I’d at least give her that. He had the kind of crew-cut brown hair and burly build that made me wonder if he was a cop, and the kind of wide, puppy-dog eyes that made me wonder if he had the hardness to back up such a title. And I had never seen Mom so googly-eyed over a guy since Dad. It made me uncomfortable to be in the same room with them looking at each other like this. It felt like I was choosing sides, and this wasn’t the side I was ready to be on.

“It smells amazing in here,” Parker said, smiling. “Is someone baking bread? You never told me you cooked, Rachel.”

I snorted and chewed on a carrot from the salad. “That’s because she can’t.”

Mom gasped. “Emma!”

“What? You can’t.”

Parker chuckled. “Well, it smells like she’s a good cook.”

Mom finally gave in and laughed, too. “Emma’s the cook around here. She’s pretty amazing when she gets into a kitchen.”

Parker looked between us, then to the stove. “While this smells great, would you like to join us for dinner, Emma? I’m sure your mom wouldn’t mind.”

I forced myself to smile. “That’s okay. Thanks, though.”

He nodded. “Next time, then.”

Mom smiled and kissed him on the cheek. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to throw up because he was nice. And she was happy. And everything seemed perfect. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t ever going to be perfect again. Not without Dad. I leaned my head against the wall.

“Well, we’re off,” Mom said. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

I watched her sling her purse over her shoulder and take Parker’s hand. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

She stopped at the door and pointed at me. “No boys. And that includes Cash. If you let him over here, he’ll eat all the Halloween candy before those poor kids have a chance.”

I laughed. “I set it on the front porch. That’s probably going to happen regardless.”

I waved them both off, then watched Parker’s Honda zip out of the driveway through the kitchen window above the sink. I didn’t know how to feel. Relieved, maybe? At least he was nice. And he seemed to make Mom happy. As much as I hated this reality, that’s exactly what it was. Reality. And I had to find a way to deal with it.

I sighed and leaned on the sink, the smell of the food cooking making me a little hungry. The only sound in the house was the whir of air through the heating vents and the bubbling of spaghetti sauce on the stove. It was too much quiet. I needed something to drown out the thoughts. Music. I whirled around to grab the little kitchen radio Mom kept on the counter and froze.

All four of the kitchen chairs were stacked on top of one another, reaching all the way to the ceiling. The oak legs were jammed into the backs of each chair, making an eerie tower. I hadn’t even heard them move. My muscles coiled into tight knots and I pressed myself against the cabinets. A cold burst of air swirled into my lungs with my next breath. I touched my throat and shook my head. Maeve. She was here. How did she do that so fast…

Something crashed against the wall in the living room and I grabbed on to the counter behind me. She was here. And Finn wasn’t. My brain pulsed with fear, making everything fuzzy.

Think, Emma. Think!

Sage. The website had said burning sage would clear a home of unwanted spirits. It was sage, wasn’t it? I darted for the refrigerator and dug through the clear drawer we kept herbs in. Behind me, it sounded like something was sliding along the wall. I didn’t get a chance to turn around to see what it was. A picture frame crashed into the refrigerator next to my face and I screamed. My heart pounded out a deafening rhythm in my chest. I could feel it behind my ears as I fell to my knees and fumbled through the drawer. Rosemary, oregano, thyme…

Sage! I peeled open the package and pulled the little green leaves out. There wasn’t much left, and it wasn’t dry, but it would work. It
had
to work. If it didn’t…no. No thinking like that. I grabbed a lighter from the drawer by the sink, bundled the sage, and watched the blue and orange flame char the ends. They smoked softly, but when I pulled the flame away, nothing. It wouldn’t light.

The lights flickered and one of Mom’s decorative plates slammed into the microwave next to my head, breaking into a hundred paisley pieces.

“Damn it!” I hunched down and sparked the lighter again. “Please light,” I whispered through the panic thick in my throat.

Nothing. No flames. No smoke.

No, no, no!
This could not be happening. “Light, damn you!” I screamed and rolled my thumb across the lighter switch. The metal burned my skin, but I ignored it, holding the flame under the leaves until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

The flame snaked around the leaves. They shriveled, turning black, and smoke finally swirled up into the air. Shaking, I waved it around, choking on the smell.

“Get out,” I said, holding the leaves up in the air.
Please work. Please work.
The pots on the stove started to vibrate and rattle. A wooden spoon I’d left in the spaghetti sauce started to spin circles in the pot. I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed, “Get the hell out of my house!”

Everything stopped.

Silent.

Still.

I opened my eyes and blinked at the spaghetti sauce boiling on the stove. The shattered pieces of plate lay scattered across the tile. The glass crunched under my shoes, and the fear in my chest started to drain. She was…gone. My fingers shook around the half-charred leaves in my fist.

“It worked,” I laughed, though it sounded more like a sob, and forced my fingers open. The leaves dropped onto the tile.

And then everything exploded.

Kitchen cabinets and drawers burst open. Silverware turned into shrapnel. Wine glasses burst like grenades around me. The pot of spaghetti sauce erupted like a volcano, and the loaf of bread I’d been baking shot out of the oven and slammed into the wall.

I dropped to the ground, slapping my hands over my ears, and scrambled into a corner. Across the room, cans started to fly out of the pantry. Above me, forks whistled through the air and jammed into the wall. I curled into a ball and wrapped my arms around my legs, pressing myself as close to the wall as I could get. I could feel her. She felt like ice, a prickling cold against my skin. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. All of those incantations I’d read about…I could only remember one.

“This is a house of the living. Not a place for the dead,” I whispered into my knees. “You are not welcome here.” I could smell spaghetti sauce burning along with the sage, but I couldn’t make myself move. All I could do was say it over and over until my lips felt numb. “This is a house of the living. Not a place for the dead. You are not welcome here.”

I didn’t stop until everything got quiet and the cold bled out of the room. Was she gone? I wasn’t waiting around to find out. My knees almost buckled as I pushed myself up and brushed the glass off my jeans. I couldn’t deal with this. Not now. Trying to suppress a sob, I ran down the hallway and into my room, then collapsed onto my bed. With the darkness of my pillow blocking the rest of it out, I could think.

The sage may not have worked, but the chant must have. Maeve wouldn’t have gone on her own. Not unless she’d gotten what she’d wanted. I rolled over, mind reeling, and exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure who I was talking to. God maybe.

“Emma.” Finn started across the room and I sat up.

“Maeve…she was here,” I said, my voice hoarse from screaming.

“Are you okay?” He placed his open palms on either side of me and leaned in so close I could feel his warmth reaching out to my skin. “Emma, answer me.”

“I…I’m okay.” I stared at him and the fear in my chest eased. “She is gone, right? I can’t feel her anymore.”

He nodded.

“Why is she doing this?” My voice cracked.

“She’s angry at me,” he said softly. “It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

He looked sad and tortured and I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand any of this. I pushed myself up off the bed and made my way back into the kitchen. It looked like a disaster area. Like a freaking tornado had roared through our house and turned my baking refuge upside down. Trembling, I touched a steak knife sticking out of a cabinet. How the hell was I supposed to explain this to Mom? An entirely different kind of terror washed through me. If she saw this, she’d think I did it and send me back to Brookhaven. She couldn’t see this. I pulled out the trash can and a broom and started to sweep.