Lovely Shadows (5 page)

“Yeah.” I fiddled with the edge of my blanket when something entirely different occurred to me. “Aidan?”

“Yes?”

“You can't touch me, right? Like you can't hold things or feel things without expending a lot of energy?”

“Right. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” I said, unsure of what I was about to say. This was crazy. I had a boyfriend for crying out loud. And I wanted to feel up a ghost who could walk through walls?

“Jessa, you're blushing. It can't be that bad.”

“I was wondering if I could touch you. Just because you can't touch me doesn't mean I can't touch you, does it?”

“I don't know.” He was taken back. “You can try if you want.”

“Okay, but you will have to guide me. It isn't like I can see you.” I reached my hand forward towards the top of the shadow. “I want to feel your face.”

“A little lower,” he instructed. I followed his directions. I felt his nose first.

“Wow,” I gasped, yanking my hand back in shock. “Were you projecting?”

“A little,” he admitted. “I wanted to feel you too.”

“Are you tired?”

“Not really. I've been practicing.”

I reached out again. “No projecting.” My hand slipped right through the air.

“Well, that's disappointing.”

He said nothing. Standing up, he moved across the room to the window.

“I'm sorry, Aidan.”

“Just go to sleep, Jessa,” he said sadly.

Obligingly I rolled over, tucking my hands under my pillow. The urge to cry was strong, but I choked back the tears. Not feeling him had been far more disappointing than I thought it would be. If it was this bad for me, I imagined it was a hundred times worse for him. Living without the human touch had to be some kind of torture. All the more thankful I could feel Levi whenever I wanted, that I could hug my brother, or link arms with my friends, I closed my eyes and counted my blessings.

4.

Screw purgatory—he was in Hell. Jessa being unable to touch him was like a knife through his heart. He hoped against hope she would feel him; still, when her hand slid through his shadow, a new kind of pain gripped him. How much could one person endure? Death meant the end of all pain right? Somehow, he was in worse pain than ever. No end was in sight.

He watched her sleep, her chest rising and falling with every breath. He longed to reach out and smooth her hair away from her face. Instead, he tucked his hands tight under his armpits. More than ever, he wanted to solve the damn mystery and get the hell out of here. The longer he stayed, the worse it was going to be when he left. Already, her attitude toward him had changed. What was his leaving going to do to her? Yeah, he knew she was in love with the farmer; that didn't mean she couldn't love him as well. Something had to be done, and soon.

The morning sun rose, bringing its ungodly heat with it. Summers in Kansas were like living in Death Valley. It was the one positive thing about death: Sensory perception was at a minimum. It was also a curse. Jessa got dressed then ate breakfast with Luke. The Reverend was already gone for the day. She teased Luke about his date with Billie, a detail Aidan apparently missed yesterday. So, the kid was going after the best friend. Oddly enough, Jessa seemed to be the matchmaker.

Luke left for his summer job at one of the local farms, and Jessa flopped down in front of the TV, but she didn't seem to be watching it. Instead, she looked like she was thinking hard. Aidan propped himself on the end of the couch, watching her. Her presence filled something deep within him, something he didn't know he was missing until he died.

She shifted her gaze from the TV to where he sat. For a long time, they stared at each other. He projected himself and held his shape. Her eyes widened, then she slowly sat up and reached out to him. This time, he didn't lose focus, and she didn't recoil as she lightly ran her finger across the sleeve of his jacket. When the phone rang, they both jumped.

He made himself scarce while she chatted with Billie. Drifting up the her room, he threw himself across her bed. He had nothing else to do—no one to visit, no one to talk to. Being a ghost was lonely. Sure, Jessa could see him but she wanted to get rid of him too. It was his own damn fault and he knew it. Maybe he should find the nearest cemetery and hang out with his own kind. Maybe if he was around other ghosts he'd feel better, get some perspective on things.

A few minutes later Jessa thundered up the stairs.

“Finally!” she exclaimed dramatically.

Aidan smiled. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. Now we can get to work.”

“Haven't you been working all day?” he asked sardonically with a chuckle.

“If you consider lounging on the couch all morning as work, then yes. But work usually benefits someone.”

“What are the benefits of helping me?”

“You get to cross over and I get my life back.”

He went cold, or at least as cold as a ghost could be.

“Oh Aidan!” She covered her mouth with one perfectly manicured hand. “I didn't mean...I'm...I didn't mean it to sound that way.”

“No, I understand. I'm cramping your style.”

She shook her head. “It's not that. I...I'll miss you when you go but you cannot follow me the rest of my life. Things with Levi are great. Strange as it sounds, this is my first relationship, and he is the perfect guy. Having a ghost complicates that.”

“So you don't want me to go, but I can't stay either?”

“Complex I know.” She laid down on the bed, parallel to his shadow. “Don't you want to cross over?”

“I don't know. I've never been afraid of much, but not knowing what is on the other side terrifies me. Yet, I don't want to stay in limbo either.”

“Do you believe in Heaven and Hell?”

“Yes. Don't you? You're a preacher's granddaughter.”

“I don't know. I never used to. Then I met you; now I wonder if everything I've never believed in might be true.”

“Why are you so skeptical?”

She shrugged. “I guess I figure if I believe in nothing then I'll never be disappointed.”

“That sounds cynical.”

She shrugged again. Carefully, she reached out one hand and brushed it through his shadow. Taking a deep breath—still a strange feeling since he didn't need air anymore—he let the energy flow through him. Her hand brushed his face, startling him with the softness of her skin. He fought to hold his shape but snapped back.

“Sorry,” they said in unison. Then they laughed.

“It's just strange to me,” she said, “having someone you can't really see or feel following you.”

“Well, don't get too used to it. I'm out of here soon, remember.”

Abruptly she rolled off the bed. “Yeah, I suppose we should do something about that. I thought we should make some lists: all your family and friends, anyone you hated or merely disliked, anyone who hated you. We need to hit this from all angles.”

He nodded. “It's a start.

For two hours they made list after list of all the people Aidan knew. He began to feel tired halfway through and started to fade out.

“Meditate for five minutes,” she instructed, “then we'll try again.”

He followed her orders. Almost immediately he began to feel better. The tension left his muscles and his headache cleared.

“Ready?” she asked.

Once more, they dove into the archives of Aidan's history. He remembered a kid he bullied in elementary.

“He kicked my ass in seventh grade so I think we're good.”

She laughed and continued writing. His sisters' friends and their families; his brother's friends and their families; everyone he could remember from his brother's military unit; everyone who knew his parents—the lists grew long and exhausting. When they finished, they began eliminating the suspects. All kids under sixteen were automatically crossed off, as were anyone over the age of fifty. Teachers, coaches, pastors, cashiers, bus drivers—they were deducted. Eventually, the list contained thirty people between the ages of eighteen and twenty-nine.

“This isn't bad,” Jessa said, chewing on her pen cap.

Aidan glanced over her shoulder. “Thirty is still a lot of potential murderers.”

Jess laid the list down. “Well, I think we've done enough for today. We'll start tracking some of these people down tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. What are you up to tonight?”

“Probably hanging out with Billie. Summers are kind of lazy around here. She helps with her mother's daycare, and her father works for an insurance company. Normally, I have a job but I'm taking this summer off. Next year I'll be so busy prepping for college that I kind of want to use this summer for fun.”

“Are you going to college?”

“That is the plan.”

“What is Levi doing?”

“Probably running the farm. Why are you so interested?”

Aidan shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

“Right.” She didn't look convinced.

She dragged a blanket and book out to the backyard. Spreading it under the towering elm, she flopped down and opened her book. Aidan laid down next to her, seeking the comfort of her presence. She was a restful sort of person, unperturbed by the trivialities of daily life. He longed for that kind of security.

Man, he'd like to go back home. Just once, just to see how everyone was doing. His mother and sisters were probably holding some kind of vigil in his room. He couldn't stomach watching that. Ryan had gone to Iraq, that much Aidan knew for sure. His father had brought his boys up that duty to country came before everything else.

His father was a thirty-year veteran of the Army. Retired exactly one year ago, he had big plans for the family. Aidan was positive those big plans didn't include losing his youngest son. Ironic, really, given that Ryan was fighting a war, and Aidan just needed a gallon of milk. If anyone had picked who'd die first, it wouldn't have been Aidan.

The moments immediately after death were still fresh in his mind though he constantly fought against them. Blessedly, the moments between careening off the road and waking up were remote. He carried no physical scars, nothing to remind him of burning to death. Watching his body crackle like logs on a campfire intensified the experience. Of all the things Aidan had seen in his life, that had been the most terrifying. Watching yourself die after you're already dead was a mixture of things: relief because you couldn't feel it; hope because maybe it's all a bad dream; fear that maybe it isn't; panic when you realize what it means.

Rooted to the spot just a few yards from where his body burned, Aidan was stricken with two thoughts: run from the image, or stay and see what happens. The first option seemed wise. Without a backwards glance, he ran straight through the woods, into a corn field, and across a four-lane highway. He kept running until he realized he wasn't tired. His muscles didn't ache, his lungs felt rested, and his heart rate was steady. So steady in fact it took a moment before he understood his heart no longer beat. A quick check of his wrist revealed no pulse. That was the moment it became official: He was dead.

Looking back the way he came, all Aidan wanted to do was go home and curl up in his mom's lap the way he used to when he was a child. He couldn't do that, though. He could never go home, but he couldn't stay here, could he? Where was that white light everyone always talked about? Aidan began walking once more, thinking he might just come across it by accident. Mile after mile, nothing happened. No light, no voice, no nothing; he was alone.

“Aidan!”

His eyes flew open at the sound of her exasperated voice.

“Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“That's okay. You've been sleeping for almost two hours.”

“What time is it?”

“After four. I have to get dinner on the table. Are you coming in?”

“No. I think I'm going to stay out here.”

“Suit yourself.” She left the blanket and the book with him under the tree.

Careful not to use too much energy, he flipped the cover. She'd been reading the Bible.

He slowly turned several pages before snapping the book shut. Anything God had to say wasn't something he was interested in. Nineteen and dead, leaving behind a devastated family...

The first and only ghost he met gave him the lowdown on what his new life was going to be like. Until he crossed over, he pretty much was good for haunting or hanging around doing nothing, which in Aidan's opinion was one and the same. The good ghost explained Aidan needed to complete his purpose first.

“But I'm dead!” he exclaimed. “What kind of purpose do I have now?”

The ghost, Eli, shrugged. “Well, find out why you died.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Find someone living to help you.”

“Right, because mediums are in such demand.”

“Look, kid,” Eli said, his eyes as black as coal, “you say you were ran off the road. I'm assuming it was no accident. You need to figure it out before you cross over. You can't take your baggage with ya. Say good-bye to your mother, kiss your girlfriend, buy a Corvette—frankly, I don't care. Keep doing whatever it takes until you're finished.”