Remembrance (The Mediator #7)(97)

“I’ve been wondering about it,” I went on. “Why did they adopt two girls? And I think the reason they had to adopt two is that one little girl wouldn’t have been enough to replace the hole in their hearts that you left behind. That’s how much they loved you.”

Lucia glanced from me to the photo then back again, her eyes wider than ever.

But I still couldn’t tell if she understood. I could hardly see anything myself, because of my tears.

How could I get through to her?

“Please, Lucia,” I said. “You just have to be patient a little bit longer, and then everything will be all right, I swear. Well, maybe not all right. Nothing will ever be all right for you, I know that. But I swear I’ll make things right for Becca. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

She did something then that shocked me, and I’ve been working with the souls of the dead for a long time. I didn’t know I could be shocked anymore.

But Lucia managed, by climbing onto the bed and crawling toward me, her arms stretched to reach around my neck.

Not to strangle me this time, though.

To hug me.

Even more shocking, I put down my phone and hugged her back, a dead seven-year-old who shouldn’t have even been in my room in the first place.

This was a violation of every ghost-mediator—and patient-therapist—protocol in the book. Lucia needed to cross over to the other side to be with the people she belonged to—the grandmother who’d claimed she’d been such a happy girl, and had since passed on herself, and was probably waiting impatiently for her granddaughter to hurry up and join her. Ensuring that this happened was my job.

But here I was, hugging her instead of letting her go, allowing her to lay her cheek—cold and smooth as marble—against mine, holding on to her as tightly as she was holding me. Her sadness, deep and dark as a grave, seeped into me . . .

Or maybe the only sorrow I felt was my own. Maybe it had been there all along, neatly boxed away. Maybe that’s what had been keeping me awake at night for so many years, but I’d never allowed myself to feel it, until the touch of that cold cheek to mine caused the box to open, and all the emotions I’d packed so tidily away in there came rushing to the surface.

“It’s okay, Lucia,” I whispered, rocking her a little. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

She pulled away from me slightly, then laid a hand upon my own cheek, which, unlike hers, was not cold and smooth as marble, but hot and wet.

“I know,” Lucia whispered back, gazing into my eyes. For the first time since I’d met her, she smiled. “That’s what I came to tell you.”

Then, in a burst of golden light that lit my room like a sun shower, she was gone.





treinta y dos


For the first time in a long time, I slept. I didn’t wake until nearly nine in the morning, when my cell phone buzzed. It was my stepbrother Jake calling.

Jake. Jesse. Jail.

“Oh, my God, how is he?” I cried, snatching up my phone. “What’s happening?”

“He’s out.” Sleepy sounded extremely pleased with himself.

“He is?” I sat bolt upright in bed. “Is he all right? Where is he? What happened? Can I speak to him?”

“All charges dismissed. See, it pays to have the very best criminal attorney on your side. Got a DUI? Call the DUI Guy. Not that that was applicable in your boy’s case, but—”

I didn’t want to burst Jake’s bubble, since I knew it wasn’t his high-powered attorney’s skills, but my slick mediating that had gotten Jesse off the hook.

“Thanks so much, Jake,” I interrupted. “I really appreciate it. I’m sure Jesse does, too. Where is he? Can I speak to him?”

“He’s right here in the car with me. I’m driving him back to the Crossing because he says you have his car? Boy, that’s good, because if Five-Oh looked inside the BMW and found all that, er, contraband, even the DUI Guy wouldn’t have been able to get him off—”

“Jake, can I speak to Jesse?” Sometimes I wondered if all of my stepbrothers, with the exception of David, had been dropped repeatedly on the head as newborns.

“Uh . . .” I heard a slight murmuring, and then Jake came back on the line. “Sorry, Suze, maybe later, all right?”

I tried to keep the acid out of my tone because I knew none of it was Jake’s fault. He’d been a really good friend to both of us. But I was angry. “What?”

“Listen, Suze, don’t worry, nothing bad happened to him, he’s just a little worse for wear. I mean, come on, Suze.” Jake’s tone dropped to a whisper. “The guy spent the night in jail. No one wants to talk to their fiancée first thing when they get out of jail.”

“I would,” I said. I swung my legs over of the side of the bed. “I would want to talk to my fiancé first thing when I got out of jail. In fact, I thought we were going to head over to the arraignment together and I was going to serve as a character witness and—”

“Well, Suze, you know what? Sometimes there’s stuff men don’t want their lady involved in, and this is one of those things.”

“What lady? I’m not anyone’s lady. What the hell are you even talking about? And how could Jesse possibly not want me involved? I’m already involved. What happened? Did he get beat up in jail? Is there something he’s hiding? Put him on the phone right now, Jake, or I swear to God, I’ll—”