Dad thought I was way too young to be so serious about Nick. “Your first love isn’t your last love,” he told me once. I wondered at the time if he was working to convince himself as much as he was me. My mother was his first love. Was he hoping for a chance at a last love?
Dad’s face softens as he stares at the image of me and Nick, so happy, so full of excitement at being together.
“You can reach him now,” says Thatcher, whispering next to me. “His mind is receptive.”
“Should I—” I start to reach out my hand, but Thatcher takes it and holds my fingers. I have to fight to ignore the electricity and warmth that I feel from his touch.
“Use your thoughts,” he says. “Think about what you want him to know, and what you want him to feel.”
I close my eyes, and I realize that I hope he doesn’t blame himself, for giving me the car, for being distant. I always knew how much he loved me.
How can I convey to my father that my drive to be reckless was my own choice?
I concentrate, replaying some of my more dangerous stunts in my head—the time I set up a makeshift ramp in the backyard and launched my bike (and myself) into the river, the time I made Carson drive down the beach so I could practice bailing out of a moving car (I’d seen it in the movies, and it looked so easy), and the morning of the day of my death, speeding on the docks.
After I flash through those moments, I switch to quieter ones with my father, with Carson, with Nick—the chaste versions. The times when they each provided a safe and warm harbor, when I didn’t have to put myself in danger to feel alive. As I linger in those moments, I cherish them in a way I never have before—I didn’t know how to value them when I was alive. But I do now.
I open my eyes. Dad is staring as if he can see me, right at my face.
“Oh, Callie.” He sighs, but it isn’t a sad one. It’s wistful, loving. Serene.
“He’s finding peace,” whispers Thatcher. “Can you feel it?”
I nod as I watch my father’s eyelids get heavier and heavier. They close after a few moments. I stay still, letting the ease in the room flow through me, feeling a tranquillity deeper than I knew was possible.
“Can we stay?” I ask.
“As long as you want,” says Thatcher.
We sit there for an hour while he sleeps, and Thatcher doesn’t push me to go anywhere, to do anything. He just stays in this space with me, with my father.
And it means the world.
Nineteen
I WANT TO GO TO NICK NEXT, do the same thing for him, but I can tell Thatcher’s energy is waning.
He creates a portal that delivers us right outside my door. I’m swamped with emotions: relief, joy, a tinge of sadness, a conviction that my dad will be all right. I’m almost bursting with a need to talk about it and to hold it in, savor it for a while longer. I have so much that I want to say to Thatcher, but all I seem capable of uttering is a heartfelt “Thank you.”
His blue eyes warm. “You’re the one who did it.”
“But I couldn’t have done it without you.” Only now do I realize that there was a sort of underlying chaos when I was with Reena, when she was pushing me to do things her way. It’s difficult to explain, but I don’t think her methods would have brought my father the peace that Thatcher’s did.
“You should rest,” he says, as though he’s uncomfortable with my gratitude.
“I—” I lower my gaze, watching the swirling mist, trying to form the right words. When I look up, his brow is furrowed, his eyes etched with concern. “You said I ruined things for Ella. Is she going to be okay?”
He nods. “There’ll be another ceremony. We just needed a little time for harmony to be achieved once again.”
I release a quick burst of embarrassed laughter, because I caused so many problems. “Oh, good. I was afraid she’d be sent to Purgatory or something.”
“No. Solus is waiting to welcome her.”
“Do you think that I could see her, apologize for what happened?”
The smile he gives me is devastating in its beauty. “I can arrange that. But you can’t touch her. Your energy could unravel things.”
I nod with understanding eyes, realizing that I trust him completely for the first time. “I won’t. I’ll follow your rules to the letter, do whatever you tell me.”
He grins. “I doubt you’ll go that far.”
I take his jab like a good sport. It’s deserved. Besides, I like it when he’s relaxed enough to give me a hard time. “I will, I promise. I really don’t want to mess things up for her.”
“Yeah, okay. Come on.”
As we walk along, I desperately want to take his hand. I think about what Reena said, that he was deliberately sabotaging my progress, to keep me here so he wouldn’t be lonely. I can’t see him being that selfish. Unfortunately, I can imagine him feeling that isolated.
“Now that I seem to have caught on to how some of this works, how long do you think I have in this realm?” I ask.
“It’s impossible to say.”
I wanted so badly to be out of here, to be back on Earth permanently, but now I don’t know if I want to go. If I want to leave Thatcher. “I hope the next ghost you guide doesn’t turn out to be such a pain.”
He shifts his gaze over to me. “Callie, you’re acting like this is going to be our good-bye, but we’re a long way from that.”
“But we will have to say good-bye eventually.”
“Eventually, yes.”
“How do you do that? Welcome someone here, connect with them, teach them what they need to know just so they can leave you?”
“I know something better is waiting for them. How can I deny them that? Besides, I don’t connect with those I guide. There’s nothing personal between us.”
“Not even with me?”
“You’re like no one I’ve ever known before.”
It isn’t really an answer, yet in a way it is.
Before I can respond, he swings his gaze forward. “We’re here.”
We’re standing in front of a white door that has little sparkles, coming and going, floating around almost as though they’re alive. I raise my hand to knock, but before I make contact, the door opens. Ella Hartley stands before me in the silver gown she was wearing earlier. Her eyes that I thought looked flat and dull the first time I saw her are now glowing with an inner brightness.
She smiles softly. “Callie McPhee. I was hoping you’d come see me.”
“Ella, I am so sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I know the poltergeists have a certain charisma that makes it easier to believe everything they say.” She turns her head slightly. “Hello, Thatcher.”
“You look lovely, Ella,” he says.
Her smile brightens. “I’m happy, happier than I’ve ever been. Please come in.” She steps back.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to take your energy. I just—”
“Please,” she interrupts, sweeping her arm to the side in a welcoming gesture. “My energy is safe.”
I glance over at Thatcher, waiting to take a cue from him. I really don’t want to do anything that will mess things up for Ella. He gives me an encouraging nod.
We pass through the doorway, and it’s like stepping into a shower of calm that washes over me, almost taking my breath. While outside is swirling fog, in here it’s like being enveloped in gossamer clouds.
“The first time I saw you at the harbor,” Ella begins, “I thought we had met before, but I couldn’t remember. All my focus was on my family, and my memories were scattered.”