Derek handed her a cup of coffee and settled next to her in the row of hard, plastic waiting room chairs. “Careful, it’s hot.” As if to illustrate, he pried the lid off his own coffee and blew on it. “Any news?”
“Not yet.” She held the cup by its cardboard sleeve, not making any move to drink it, reassured simply by the warmth and the feel of something solid to hold onto. At this point, she was so tired she didn’t think drinking it would make a difference. “Dad saw the ghost.”
“Really? He saw a visible manifestation?”
“You almost sound jealous.”
“I kind of am. Man. If I could get something like that on camera—”
“Derek!”
“Under completely different circumstances, of course.” He had the decency to look chagrined. “So how did he take it?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t had a chance to talk about it. He was pretty freaked out at first, but then her crying started to work its spell on him.”
“Thank God you had those earplugs.”
“Thank God you showed up.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
Chris blew on her coffee.
“Hey.” Derek turned in his seat to face her. “Let’s get something straight right now. Do I like that my girlfriend feels it necessary to keep putting herself in harm’s way? Of course I don’t. But don’t you even for a minute think that every time you put yourself in the fire, I won’t be right there with you to watch your back.”
Chris looked at him, tears pricking the back of her eyes. “Yeah, but for how long?”
He brushed her hair out of her face and leaned down to look into her eyes. “For as long as I have to.”
Chris gave him a watery smile. He kissed her on the forehead. “You big dummy,” he added, making her laugh. He put his arm around her and pulled her against him. “You’re exhausted. Why don’t you try to sleep? I’ll wake you when there’s news.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but a yawn came out instead. Giving in, she fidgeted in her chair, trying to find the most comfortable position—or at least the least uncomfortable—before nestling her head against his shoulder. “Thanks. I doubt I can sleep like this, though.”
“Well, rest your eyes, then.” He kissed the top of her head. She closed her eyes.
A moment later, she was shaken awake. She sat up and squinted, only vaguely recalling where she was and why she was there. “Was I asleep?”
“Yep.”
“How long?”
“About half an hour.”
She looked at him and noticed a big spot of drool on his shoulder. She wiped her mouth and then wiped his shirt. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Here comes your dad.”
They stood as he approached, looking haggard and devastated. “Dad, what is it? Is she—”
“She kicked me out.”
Chris blinked in surprise. “What?”
“She asked me to leave.” He shook his head. “She’s okay. Physically, at least. But they’re keeping her for a psych evaluation, and they’ve got her on suicide watch. Suicide watch!” He raked a hand through his hair and started to pace the floor. “And then she told me to get out.”
Derek put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe she’s too embarrassed to talk to the psychiatrist in front of you.”
“No, you don’t understand. She said the wedding’s off, that we’re through. She said she doesn’t want me around anymore.”
Chris couldn’t stand how hurt he looked, how bewildered and lost. “Dad, we need to talk.”
“You think? What is going on here, Chris? What happened while I was gone?”
“Let’s go home and I’ll explain everything.”
“No. You’ll explain now.”
Derek spoke up. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.”
“I’m not leaving. And I’m not waiting another minute to know why my fiancée is calling off the wedding and trying to drown herself in our pond!” His voice rose until he was shouting, drawing looks from other people in the waiting room.
Chris sighed. “All right, Dad. But at least sit down.”
He clearly wanted to keep pacing, but with a groan of frustration, he took a seat. He listened quietly while she brought him up to speed on everything that had happened since he’d left town. She gave it to him straight, sparing no punches. The only parts she left out were Ron and Joe’s involvement. His jaw and his fists remained clenched throughout. At the more fantastical parts, he would glance around the room to see if anyone was listening in. But he kept silent until she was done.
And then he simply sat there, staring at his hands as he flexed them. At last, he gripped his knees and sat up straight, taking a deep breath. He looked at Chris, his face full of anger and disappointment. “I can’t believe you.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I asked you to do one thing. Be a friend to her. But I leave town for a couple of days and you fill her head so full of your ghost and spirit nonsense that she’s trying to commit suicide!” His voice rose gradually as he spoke until he shouted the last word. Catching himself, he looked around and seemed embarrassed by the looks he’d drawn.
“Now wait a minute,” said Derek. “That’s not what—”
“Excuse me, I’m talking to my daughter.”
“No, you’re being a class A jerk to your daughter. All she’s done is try to help Marsha. And she got herself hurt in the process. Did you even wonder how she got that bruise on her face?”
Drew looked at her. Suddenly self-conscious, she pulled her hair in front of her bruised cheek to hide it. “You were there this morning,” she said, changing the subject. “You saw the ghost that led Marsha into the pond. You heard it. You felt the despair it caused.”
“I don’t know what I saw. I’d been driving all night. I was probably half-delirious with lack of sleep, and more open to suggestion—”
“So, what, she hypnotized you?” Derek snorted. Chris knew why. Her dad was starting to sound like he had after his first encounter with his brother’s ghost.
“I don’t know.” Drew turned back to Chris. “And I don’t know why you’re like this.”
“Like what?”
He sighed wearily and rubbed his eyes. “I suppose it’s my own fault,” he half-muttered. “I should’ve nipped this thing in the bud as soon as it started. I figured it was your way of coping with losing your mother at such a young age.”
“This is not my imagination, Dad.”
“I tried not to indulge it, but I turned a blind eye to it, and I guess that amounts to the same thing.” He gazed down at her, his mouth drawn in a disappointed frown. “But I never thought you would actually harm anyone with your delusions.”
Chris’s mouth dropped open as the bottom dropped out of her stomach. If he’d literally punched her in the gut, she didn’t think it would hurt much worse than this. Speechless, her chest grew tight as she struggled to breathe.
“That’s enough.” Derek put himself between Chris and Drew. “Come one, let’s get you home.” He steered her away from her father, putting a protective arm around her as he led her away. Where the waiting room met the corridor, she stopped and turned back. “Dad?” she called, her voice so choked she could barely get it out. He glanced at her, indicating he had heard her, but then turned his back to her.
“Let’s go,” said Derek. Too stunned to resist, she let him lead her to the elevator.
Ron sat at Chris’s desk, staring at the phone and willing it to ring. The sun had been up for hours and there had been no word from Chris. Ron had considered going out to find her, but it had been such an intense night, she feared she wouldn’t have the energy to make it back home. Joe had run out of steam and retreated to the attic to sleep shortly after sunrise. Ron had even tried calling Chris, but she only got her voice mail. She tried leaving a message, but she had no idea if her voice even registered on the recording.
She heard the familiar sound of Derek’s Mustang pulling up out front and felt tension flow out of her, replaced with relief. She went to the front door, watching as he and Chris both got out of the car and made their way up the walk.
Opening the door to greet them, she took in the stunned and broken look on her sister’s face. “What happened? Did you find Marsha? Is she—”
“She’s in the hospital,” Chris said. “She almost drowned.”
“What? How?”
“The white lady.”
Ron shuddered. She remembered all too vividly the hopelessness and despair she’d felt upon hearing the other spirit’s cries. “Thank God you’re okay.” Chris let out a scoffing noise and shook her head. Ron asked, “Are you okay?”
“Dad—” she began, but her voice broke.
Fear clenched an angry fist around Ron’s heart. “What about Dad? Is he—”
“No, he’s fine. He—” Her face scrunched up. She covered it with her hands.
“Chris? Tell me.”
Before she could say more, Derek came in behind Chris. He put his hands on her shoulders and bent to kiss her cheek. “Why don’t you go get something to eat? There are some leftover muffins in the fridge.”
“But I need to tell Ron—”
“I’ll catch her up. Go on.”
Chris looked imploringly at Ron. Taking in how weary her sister looked, she nodded. “Yeah, go. It’s fine.”
Chris headed down the hall toward the kitchen. Derek went into the office and Ron followed. He went to the floating shelves along the back wall and took down a device that looked like a small radio. That was basically what it was, except it was modified to cycle through all of the available frequencies, snatching words from the airwaves that would serve as Ron’s voice as she spoke to him. He set the ghost box on the desk and switched it on.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Marsha’s fine. Physically, at least. She’s in the hospital. They’re holding her for a psych evaluation because of the apparent suicide attempt.”
“And my dad?”
“He’s staying with her.”
“Then why is Chris so upset?”
Derek looked disgusted as he leaned wearily against the desk. “Let’s just say they had words.”
“What words?” She had a vague notion of what was said. “Wait, let me guess. He blames her for all of this.”
He made an “on the nose” gesture, then shook his head. “The stuff he said to her… he was pretty harsh.”
Ron swore. It didn’t register on the ghost box—probably because the word she used wasn’t allowed to be broadcast over radio frequencies. “I’ll go talk to her.”
Without waiting for a response, she popped herself to the kitchen. Chris stood at the sink, hugging herself and staring out the window into the back yard.
“Chrissy?”
“Dad hates me.” Her voice sounded small and far away.
“No, he doesn’t.” Ron was surprised at her own conviction. She knew firsthand that Drew Wilson was perfectly capable of hating his own daughter. But even so, she couldn’t believe that anyone could be capable of hating her baby sister. “He’s having a hard time with all of this. He almost lost the woman he loves for the second time in his life, and he needs someone to blame. It’s how he is.”
Chris looked at Ron. She didn’t appear to be comforted. “He thinks I’m crazy. He thinks I caused this somehow.” Her face crumpled as a sob escaped her. “Oh, Ron, he thinks I’m delusional!”
“Oh, honey!” Ron flew to her side, hating her own inability to wrap her sister in a hug. She settled for stroking her hair. “You always knew Dad’s powers of denial were unmatched. You can’t take this personally.”
“How can I not?”
“Because it’s not about you. Not really. You have to get that through your head.”
Sniffing, she wiped her eyes, then grabbed a paper towel and blew her nose. “That never stopped you from taking it personally.”
“Yeah, well. I guess it won’t stop you, either.”
Chris shook her head. “How could he be so mean?”
Ron almost said, “Welcome to the club,” but bit her tongue. Deep down, she’d always been a little jealous and resentful that Chris had clearly been his favorite, that she could do no wrong while Ron could never do anything right. But it gave her no satisfaction to see Chris bearing the brunt of his anger for a change. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair.”
She found a clean corner of the paper towel and dabbed her eyes. “How did you stand it all those years?”
Ron shrugged. “I focused on taking care of you.”
At this, her eyes started to water again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more understanding. This feels awful.”
“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry you have to feel it.”
Derek popped his head in. “How you doin’?”
Chris shrugged and wiped her eyes.
“Okay if I come in?”
She looked at Ron, who stopped petting her and stood back. “I should get upstairs. Will you be okay?”
“As okay as I can be. Thanks, sis.”
Upstairs, she found Joe stretched out on the sofa, sound asleep. Faded to barely visible, she could vaguely make out his outline, along with Buster’s curled up beside him. She knew she should sleep, too. But she was too angry. This might be typical behavior from their father, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. She’d put up with it herself for years. But she wouldn’t put up with it being done to Chris.
It was easy to find him. All she had to do was close her eyes and focus. He sat in the hospital waiting room, slumped over with his head in his hands. Ron stood before him, looking down at him, wishing she could hit him, or at least yell at him. Looking around at the other people in the room, she wasn’t sure why she’d come, what she’d hoped to accomplish by it.
He sat up and looked right at her, startling her. For a split second she thought he could see her, but then she realized he was staring through her, out at the hospital corridor. The look on his face made her feel for him in spite of herself. He looked worried and anguished, his face haggard, his eyes red and puffy. She hadn’t seen him look that way since the accident, when they had all sat together in another waiting room, awaiting news about her mother.
“It’s no excuse.” She knew he couldn’t hear her but told him anyway. “I know it hurts. I know how much it hurt when Mom died. And maybe what happened to Mom was my fault but what happened to Marsha isn’t Chris’s. However much you’re hurting right now, however scared you are about losing Marsha, you should be more scared about losing your daughter. She still needs you. I needed you.”
Her hands had curled into fists. She forced them open. She didn’t feel any better for having gotten that off her chest. She still wanted to smack some sense into him.
Her anger gave her enough fuel to get back home. She watched Joe sleeping and thought about everything he’d done for his little girl. Finally, she woke the dog and shooed him to the end of the sofa. Then she stretched out along the sofa’s edge, spooned against Joe’s faint form. Her anger gradually faded and turned to gratitude that she’d ended up with such a good man. But as she drifted off to sleep, she mourned the fact that they could never have kids of their own and show her father how it was done.