Remembrance (The Mediator #7)(102)

“Uh . . . glad? That your dad loves you? Of course he loves you, Becca.”

She looked at me. “No. I mean I’m glad he’s dead.” Then she tensed up, biting her lip in dismay. “Wait . . . that’s wrong, isn’t it? It’s wrong to be glad someone’s dead.”

I had to repress a smile. “I don’t think so. Not if you’re glad he’ll never hurt anyone again. I’d sure be glad if I were you.”

“Oh. Okay.” Her shoulders relaxed. “Because I don’t want to be a bad person. For a really long time, that’s how I’ve thought of myself.”

“Yeah,” I said. “About that. I gave your dad the name of someone I think you should go talk to if you start wanting to hurt yourself again. Or maybe just in general. She’s very good to go to for advice.”

The look of relief was replaced with one of anxiety. “Why can’t I just keep talking to you, like this?”

“I already told you, Becca, I’m not a licensed therapist.”

“Oh, right. You’re just a mediator. You only help ghosts.”

“Right. But I’m happy to talk to you anytime you want . . . as a friend.”

“Maybe you could give me some pointers.” She indicated her phone, which she’d thrown on the chaise longue. “I was just playing your game.”

It took me a couple of seconds to realize what she meant. “Ghost Mediator? I told you, that game is completely—”

“Stupid, I know.” She rolled her eyes, smiling, but then the smile faded a little. “How’s . . . how’s Lucia doing? I haven’t—is she around right now?” She glanced furtively over her shoulder. “I wanted to say . . . I wanted to ask if you could tell her I’m trying—really trying this time—to live for the both of us. I’m actually going to try to have fun.”

There was something sweetly pathetic about a sixteen-year-old girl assuring me that she was going to try to have fun. I had to hide my smile behind my hand, pretending I was scratching my nose.

“Becca, I think that’s a great idea.”

Encouraged, she went on, “I got invited to a party tonight at Sean Park’s house—it’s not a real party, a bunch of us are going to have a Ghost Mediator ultimate showdown—but I said I’d go, and Kelly said she’d drive me. She’s going to take me to the mall later this afternoon to buy a new outfit, and we’re going to get our nails done.”

This time I didn’t bother hiding my reaction. “She is?”

“Yeah. She got really excited about it. She knows a lot about clothes and girlie stuff, and said anytime I need help, to just come to her.”

I was stunned, even though I knew I shouldn’t have been. Of course Kelly was finally bonding with Becca. For one thing, Becca had finally expressed an interest in something that interested Kelly, as well—fashion and beauty products. And for another, Becca was no longer haunted by her ghostly guardian whose presence Kelly might actually have been able to sense. Kelly wasn’t stupid. She’d managed to snag Becca’s father, after all.

“You know,” Becca went on, thoughtfully, “it’s really weird, but ever since I talked to you, and you told me ghosts are real and that Lucia has been watching over me, I don’t feel . . . I guess I don’t feel afraid anymore. Even before you told me he—Jimmy—was dead, I’d decided to go to Sean’s party. Would you tell Lucia that, please, Ms. Simon? Not only that I’m going to have fun for the both of us, but that I don’t feel afraid anymore?”

The sun poured down across the turquoise water in the pool, casting golden flickers of light across the travertine tiles of the pool deck and the undersides of the palm fronds above our heads. I couldn’t see Lucia—I knew she’d moved on last night, and was happy wherever she was now.

But it almost felt as if she were there . . . enough so that I was inspired to take Becca’s hand and do my best imitation—I’m ashamed to say—of the lady from the ghost mediator TV show.

“She knows, Becca. She already knows. And she says thank you. Oh, wait . . .” I gazed at a point just left of Becca’s shoulder, near an outdoor kitchen that included a state-of-the-art grill and wet bar. “It’s hard to hear because she’s starting to fade. Lucia is . . . yes. It’s true. She’s stepping toward the light.”

“Oh!” Becca pressed a hand to her mouth. “Is Nana Anna there with her? Lucia loved her grandmother so much.”

“Um, yes. Nana Anna is calling to her. It’s time for Lucia to go to Nana Anna.”

“Is Taffy there, too?”

I hesitated. “Who’s Taffy?”

“Her horse.”

Crap. I’d forgotten about the horse. “Yes. Taffy, too. Lucia is surrounded by and filled with love, especially her love for you, a little of which will stay with you always.”

Oh, God, this was so corny. How did the Ghost Mediator live with herself?

But then again, it wasn’t entirely untrue. And it was clearly helping Becca. There were tears of happiness trembling at the corners of her eyes. Shows like Ghost Mediator brought people joy, which was a good thing (though the fact that the star charged for her services off camera still made me furious, since of course she was a total fake).