Sergeant Elliot looked uncomfortable and cast his gaze toward the floor. “You know how it is—some people come back as ghosts, some don’t. When Barbara died, we found each other again, and wanted to spend as much time as possible together. But she was going to move on; she could tell. And it was going to happen fast. She’s been holding it off by sheer willpower until she knew I could go with her. I needed to get those bracelets so I could go on.”
Paul’s expression indicated he had deduced most of that already. “So it was Ms. Litton at work when Mac ended up falling out of his bed. She’s been trying to help you get the bracelets, and she was trying to get that one off Mac.”
“We both were,” the sergeant admitted. “He’s got it on so tight, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cut off circulation to his hand.” He looked at Paul. “You’ve got to get him to take it off. Please.”
I looked up at Paul then, almost involuntarily. I thought it might be time to give my idea a whirl, and I think Paul understood that from my expression, even if he didn’t know what I was considering. But Mac was listening, so I wrote my idea briefly on the bag from which I’d taken the bread and maneuvered it so Paul could see it. He read it and turned toward the sergeant.
“Why don’t you invite Barbara to join us?” he said. “Now that we know she’s here, there’s no harm.”
Sergeant Elliot appeared to consider that for moment, and then, apparently lacking Paul’s ability to communicate telepathically, looked toward the ceiling and yelled, “BARBARA! It’s okay!”
I decided, having heard Sergeant Elliot’s point of view, to find out what Mac’s might be. “You know, Mac, I have a POW bracelet, too,” I said, extending my arm with Colonel Mason’s name imprinted on the metal hanging from my wrist.
Mac extended his arm involuntarily at the mention of the bracelet. Paul must have thought that was my intention—I hadn’t even thought of it, to tell the truth—and pointed it out to Sergeant Elliot. The sergeant floated down toward Mac.
“I did notice that, man,” Mac said. I ignored the fact that he’d gotten my gender wrong. People like him often call everyone “man.” “You never found out what happened to your soldier, either?”
That was the opening I’d been waiting for, but I wanted to hold my response until Barbara Litton, who had tentatively emerged through the kitchen ceiling face-first—to see if it was safe, no doubt—was able to hear what was going on. She made her way to Sergeant Elliot, who had surreptitiously picked up a fork from the counter and seemed to be trying to determine how to hook it on Mac’s bracelet without showing himself. Whether or not he was worried about injuring Mac was hard to determine. Melissa was watching with fascination. Alison looked to me.
“No, I haven’t,” I said. “But I’ll admit, I take the bracelet off once in a while. Don’t you find that it starts to feel heavy on your arm? That it’s uncomfortable when you’re swimming or showering?” I took it off to show him, hoping he might do the same, but he didn’t.
“Yes, it does get to be a real drag to wear it sometimes,” Mac agreed.
Sergeant Elliot gestured to Alison to try and take Mac’s hand, to raise it off the island so he and Barbara could get a better angle with the fork. Alison, probably concerned for Mac’s arm, ignored him.
“Then why not take it off?” Melissa asked. She’d picked up on part of what I was trying to do; that girl is so quick.
“Can’t,” Mac answered her gently. “That would be disrespectful to Sergeant Elliot.”
Sergeant Elliot and Barbara stopped in midair, literally.
“What did he say?” he sergeant asked.
“Respect,” Barbara whispered. She seemed very uneasy among other people, particularly living ones, and rose a little toward the ceiling again, perhaps considering escape if necessary.
“Disrespectful?” I echoed to Mac. “Didn’t you oppose the war?”
“Of course,” Alison’s guest answered. “But not the people who were fighting it. It’s not like they went because they wanted to hurt people. I’ll bet Sergeant Elliot didn’t even know where Vietnam was before the war started.”
“It’s true,” the sergeant said. He hovered, barely moving, directly to Mac’s left, and turned toward Paul. “You knew he thought like this?”
Paul gave a small nod. “I gathered when Mac knew just what date and in what province you had died that it had been especially important to him. That’s information that isn’t on the bracelet—both his and Loretta’s show just a name and a date. He would have had to do quite a bit of research on the name he saw there, long before there was an Internet to make things easy.”
Maxine scoffed. “You call that easy?”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” I told Mac. “You must really feel a connection to Sergeant Elliot.”
Mac tilted his head in agreement. “The more I researched him, the more impressive he became,” he said. “From what I can tell, he was a good man and a fine leader of men. He was never found; his remains, if he’s dead, were never brought home. I can’t disgrace his memory by taking this off.” He gestured with the bracelet.
Like I said, I’m not ashamed of my gift, but I don’t often volunteer the information. I know Alison doesn’t care to broadcast her abilities, and especially not Melissa’s. But this time, I thought directness was the best solution to the problem. I looked up at Paul, who nodded his agreement. “Go for it,” he said.
“Mac, I have something to tell you that must remain a secret between us,” I said. Alison’s brow knitted and Melissa looked at me with a mixture of concern and wonder, no doubt puzzling over what her grandmother must be plotting now. I took a breath. “I can see ghosts.”
Alison grunted. Melissa suppressed a smile. Maxine, watching near Barbara, possibly in an attempt to keep her from fleeing, said, “Uh-oh.”
But Mac seemed unfazed. “Far out,” he said in a normal tone of voice. “What’s that like?”
“It’s a great gift and I cherish it,” I told him honestly. “But I’m wondering what you’d think if I said it might be a greater sign of respect to Sergeant Elliot if you were to take the bracelet off.”
“Very good,” Paul said. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
“Do you think he’ll go for that?” Sergeant Elliot said quietly.
Barbara Litton, suddenly, looked focused and interested. “Watch him,” she told the sergeant. “I think he means it.”
“Means what?” Maxine asked, but no one answered.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Mac told me. His right hand went to cover the bracelet in a protective gesture. “I’m keeping his memory alive. Taking if off would be a betrayal. With all due respect, I think I know Sergeant Elliot a little better than you do, Loretta. Can you understand that?”
“Certainly I can,” I answered. “But I’m asking you to trust me on this.”
“Man, I get where you’re coming from, I do,” he said. “But you’re not getting me. A lot of people took their bracelets off. You did, too, and that’s cool. But I think I’m entitled to my point of view, and I think the sergeant wouldn’t want me to forget him. Why should I take off mine?”
It was time, as Jack once told me when he was trying to teach me to play poker, to go all in. “Because Sergeant Elliot is right there and he wants you to,” I said, pointing to the sergeant himself, a foot to Mac’s left.
Probably without thinking, Mac looked where I had pointed, though of course he saw no one. “Are you sure?” he asked.