A few hours later, Ian went into town. His dad's words bothered him. Why did he think he didn't do anything good? Plus his meeting with Kurt weighed on him. He couldn't do anything about his dad or Kurt, but maybe he could sort out this thing with Lorna and give Jacob and Toby some peace.
Stepping up to Jacob's door, he knocked very lightly. He figured Toby must be asleep by now, and he didn't want to disturb him.
"Are you OK?" Jacob asked him as soon as he opened the door.
"I guess," Ian said, not sure how to answer. He went in and tried to explain why he was there. "I left my dad asleep. I wanted to come over here and try something. I want to see if I can talk to Lorna. Maybe I can get her to tell me what it will take for her to leave Toby alone." Ian knew he sounded worked up and kind of crazy.
Jacob frowned at him as they stood in the front hall. "You look tired. Don't you want to get some sleep yourself? You can do this tomorrow."
"No. I don't want to wait. I read online that it's better to try and contact spirits at night. And I'd rather do this with Toby in bed, asleep. I don't want him caught in the middle if it gets unpleasant."
"You expect it to get unpleasant?" Jacob asked.
Ian shook his head. "I don't know. She seemed hostile to me before. It's like she knows who I am, but she doesn't know what it means. I'm thinking that if I can get her to fully recognize that I'm her son, it might fix things."
Jacob sighed and then nodded. They went through to the kitchen. Jacob took a seat at the kitchen table and Ian stepped outside.
The light from above the back door was shining into the garden as well as the one from the street. The treetops still had enough leaves left to swallow some of that light. Ian took a deep breath of the cold, night air. He didn't really feel up to an encounter with Lorna, but he just needed to do something.
Not sure he was ready, he walked toward the bench. He didn't see anything, but the chilly air suddenly got freezing cold. Ian felt pressure in his ears and then a splintering sound that turned to the familiar rushing noise. It seemed worse than before and he was only able to breathe with a lot of effort.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked. It was like he was shouting into the wind that was stealing his breath.
He kept looking around for her, but he didn't see anything, only darkness. That's when he realized that the garden had turned almost black. That was a sure sign that she was there.
"Why don't you answer me?" he demanded.
The darkness in front of him thickened. He felt something very close and he felt dizzy. The whooshing noise in his ears got unbearably loud. Then she spoke. Rather than breaking through the rushing sound, her voice was woven into it. Ian could barely make out the words.
"You stink like the man who killed me."
Ian couldn't hear clearly, but he was sure that was what she said. He tried to speak, to ask her to confirm it, but he couldn't. For a moment he saw a bright blue shape. Then it was over.
The pressure, the noise, the chill, they were all gone. Ian slumped to the ground panting and Jacob came out of the house and ran over to him. Pulling Ian to his feet, he looked at him closely. He took his hands and rubbed them to warm him up.
"Did you hear her?" Ian asked. He was staring around him and blinking. Back the way it was, the garden looked strange to him.
"No. She said something?" Jacob asked, squeezing Ian's hands in his own.
Ian stopped staring and turned to Jacob. "Yes. She said I smelled like her killer. That means it was Kurt Dufresne." Ian was surprised. He had almost convinced himself that he didn't do it. Kurt didn't seem to him like someone who could kill a pregnant girl. The realization that he killed Lorna hit Ian hard.
"You can't be sure that's what it means," Jacob told him.
"But I am. Why did she say that only today. Because when I went to see Kurt, he hugged me. That's when his smell got on me. His cologne was pretty strong. She must have recognized it."
"Cologne? He can't possibly wear the same cologne he wore twenty years ago," Jacob said reasonably.
"I don't know. But she said it. She said he killed her."
"What are you going to do?" Jacob asked as he put an arm around him and led him inside.
"Right now, go home, make sure my dad is OK. I'll figure out what to do about Kurt tomorrow. I can't even think right now, but I know an accusation from a ghost isn't something I can take to the police. I'm going to have to look for proof. Now I better go see about my dad. He's in worse shape than ever."
"I'm sorry."
"I stressed him out. He was drinking."
"You're taking on too much, guilt and everything. Just go home and sleep," Jacob told him. He sent him home with a kiss.
Ian found his dad sitting up on the couch. He looked pale and weak, but more like himself.
Ian went over to take a closer look at him. "How are you feeling?"
"Are you OK?" his dad asked, ignoring his question.
Feeling heavy and tired, Ian sat down next to him. "Not great. I found out Kurt Dufresne killed Lorna. She was in the way, and I was too. He tried to get rid of both of us. He killed her, and I'm going to prove it," Ian said. The knowledge made him sick and angry too. He couldn't let him get away with it.
"No. Leave it alone," his dad said and grabbed his arm.
"What do you mean 'leave it alone'? No. I can't. I'm going after him. The man murdered her."
"He didn't. It wasn't him." His dad squeezed his arm then let it go.
Ian turned to him more fully. "How do you know?"
His dad closed his eyes tightly, then he spoke. "It was me."
It was only a hoarse whisper. Ian wasn't sure he heard him right. He felt his temples throb and his heart thumped slowly but loudly. "What?"
"I killed Lorna, but it was an accident. It was dark. She was walking on the side of the road. I was driving home. I was drunk. It was dark and I didn't see her."
Hearing all that, Ian thought he might throw up. "You ran her over?"
"I didn't. I never actually hit her. I had trouble staying on the road. I kept veering off. I didn't see her and I got too close to her. She tried to get out of the way and fell. She fell into the ditch and hit her head on a rock."
"Did you drove away?" Ian asked, He dreaded hearing the answer.
"No. I got out of the car and went to her. She was barely conscious. Then she started going into labor. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't leave her. Son, I saw you being born."
"And then what?"
"I was afraid to move her. And I didn't know what to do about the umbilical cord. Even if I knew, I was too drunk. I didn't trust myself to do anything. I went to call for help."
"You left."
"I had to. My phone hardly ever had a signal. I couldn't move her or you. I put you in her arms. I didn't know what else to do. I went to the payphone at the bus stop. I called for an ambulance. Then..." His father went silent.
Ian finished for him. "You left her to die."
"I didn't. I called for help."
"Did you go back to check on her, to be with her?"
"No. I couldn't. I was driving drunk."
"Oh, God." Ian leaned forward. Now he was sure he would throw up. This was what Lorna meant. Booze from his father's drinking binge earlier – that was the smell she was talking about. It must have gotten on Ian when he held him before. That's the smell she recognized from that night. The man who killed her.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," his father said, but Ian heard him only distantly.
"You adopted me out of guilt," Ian realized.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you. When your great-grandmother got sick, I just wanted to take care of you."
"And Mom? Did Mom know about all this?"
"No. But eventually I had to tell her the truth. It's the reason she divorced me. When you turned fifteen, she wanted to tell you about your birthmother. That's when I finally told her the truth about what I had done. After that, she couldn't even look at me."
"Mom took me to the memorial around that time, right before she moved. She said she just wanted to take a walk, but she had me take along a small white rose in a planter. She said she wanted to leave it at the memorial since she was moving away. But she made me put it there, and asked me to take care of it. The rose died during the winter." Ian thought about that unstable metal contraption. "The memorial? Who put it up?"
"I'm afraid I did more drinking after the night Lorna died. One night, I went to the spot. I saw all the flowers and trinkets people were leaving for her. I remembered the stand we had in the cellar, buried under a bunch of old junk. I don't know what it was for, but it had shelves. I got it out and took it to the spot where she died. It wouldn't have stood all these years, but someone put spikes into the ground to hold it up. Someone else attached a wooded plaque with her name, but that's gone now."
For a while, they sat in silence broken only by his dad's coughing and his ragged breathing. Ian wondered if his dad had anything to eat since the little bit he got down for breakfast. Ian stood up, not sure he could stand and not fall, but he did. He heard his father make a strangled noise.
Ian turned to him. His head was down and his shoulders were shaking.
"I'll be right back. I'll bring you a breakfast bar and some tea. You need to eat something."
Ian flipped on the light in the kitchen. It was incredibly painful to his eyes, but he couldn't see without it. He had trouble remembering where the breakfast bars were. At first he couldn't hold the teapot. His hands were shaking so hard, they were useless. He got them under control a little, and poured the lukewarm tea a little at a time so he wouldn't spill it. Then he went back to his dad.
He still couldn't raise his head.
"You're going to eat and drink this, for me," Ian told him.
His dad looked up. His eyes were wet and he was shaking.
"You need to eat," Ian told him and made him sit up.
Putting the breakfast bar in his hand, Ian watched him while he ate. His dad could only eat one small bite at a time. After every bite, Ian handed him the cup with the tea. He had to steady his hand so he wouldn't spill it. When he was done, Ian put him to bed. Then he stayed up until he just couldn't keep his eyes open any more.
Ian woke up in the armchair across from his father's bed. It was early morning. His dad was standing over him, touching his hair.
"You always did have a lot of it," his dad said. "You should go to bed now."
Ian started crying. He didn't mean to. He just couldn't hold it in any more. As quickly as he could manage to get himself under control, he stopped and breathed. His dad had leaned down to hug him. He kissed the top of his head and then smoothed down his hair.
"I'm so sorry, Ian."