Where One Goes(29)

“I’m fine, Mom,” he says.

“No. You’re sad and that’s okay, George. Ike was your twin, your best friend. But at some point you have to give yourself permission to be happy again,” Beverly says.

“I am happy, and I don’t need you trying to set me up with some drifter. I’m okay. I don’t need a woman to fix me.”

“She seems like a lovely girl,” Beverly argues. “I just want to see you happy, George. Really happy.”

“Mom . . . I’m okay. Trust me. The last thing I need right now is a girlfriend, let alone one with issues like her.”

Issues? Is he f*cking kidding me? If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black . . . Having heard enough, I stomp obnoxiously the remainder of the way to the family room, alerting them to my approach. When I peek in, they’re both silent, and Beverly looks embarrassed and apologetic.

“I’m ready,” I chirp with a bit of bite. “Thank you again, Beverly.”

“Anytime, honey.”

With that, I tromp out to my truck, and George follows shortly after. He directs me back to my motel and when I park the truck, I get out and slam the door. “Thanks, George. See you at work,” I call over my shoulder as I pull out the key to my room. Just as I’m about to insert it in the lock, I’m pulled back, my gaze meeting George’s.

“What’s with the mood swing?”

I laugh, haughtily. “Mood swing?”

“Yeah. Why are you acting so bitchy?”

“I’m not,” I say, as I unlock my door. “I just have some issues I’m dealing with.” With that, I slip inside and slam the door in his face. After a few minutes the sound of his motorcycle firing to a start blares and he takes off.

“That went well,” Ike snorts from where he sits in his chair.

Glaring at him, I warn, “Not another f*cking word, Ike.”

After changing in to my pajamas, I crawl in bed and Ike lies beside me. And to his credit, he doesn’t breathe another word.





Due to my work schedule, I have to swing by the Mercers’ gas station and postpone dinner. Mr. Mercer understood how badly I needed the money, and we agreed I’d join them for dinner early next week. As I’m leaving, a dark-haired girl is standing in the back of the store, watching me. I give a faint smile and exit, wondering if her wide-eyed expression is a sign. Did I just recognize another soul?

I’ve just made it to my truck and Ike has already morphed inside when she appears beside me. “You can see me?”

I close my eyes and sigh loudly. “Let me guess,” I say, defeated. “You’re the Mercers’ daughter?”

“Maggie,” she replies simply, pushing some of her dark hair behind her ear.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“No.”

“I only see souls with unfinished business. Is there something you feel you left unresolved in your life?”

Her brows narrow. “My mom has been looking for something she couldn’t find when I passed. I want her to have it.”

“Who are you talking to, Charlotte?” Ike asks as he appears out of nowhere.

My gaze jerks between them. “You can’t see her?” I ask.

“See who?” they both reply in unison.

My brows rise to my hairline. I never knew these souls couldn’t see others. “I’m talking to the Mercers’ daughter,” I answer Ike. Then looking to Maggie, I tell her, “I’m talking to Ike McDermott. I can see him, too.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard my parents say he died in Afghanistan.”

“She’s here right now?” Ike asks, unable to hear what Maggie is saying.

“Yes,” I answer. “Let’s get in the truck before someone sees me standing here talking to myself. They both morph inside and their souls are intertwined, making it hard to tell who is who. “Ike, can you get in the back for a minute? You guys are all intermingled. I’m getting you two confused.”

Ike morphs into the backseat and Maggie’s gaze, filled with eagerness, meets mine. “Listen, Maggie. Do you want to crossover?”

“Something is pulling at me. Like it wants to lead me away, but I don’t know where. Is it heaven?”

I let out an exasperated breath. I wish I knew. The truth is, I don’t know. Many souls have described that pull to me, but no one knows what lies ahead. “I wish I could tell you,” I answer her as I start my truck. “Do you want me to help you with your mom? Help you tell her where the necklace is?”

“Charlotte, I hate to sound like a dick, but you can’t tell the Mercers what you can do before helping George,” Ike says. “If it gets out, it could make things complicated.”

He’s right; it could. George is a mess right now, and we have no idea how he’d take it. “Maggie, I need some time before I can help you. I’m in the middle of helping Ike and his situation is complicated. If you’ll be patient, I promise I’ll help you.” I have no idea how the Mercers will take me telling them I can communicate with their long-deceased daughter, but if I can bring them peace, I must. They’ve been so kind to me.

“I’ve been gone ten years. What’s a little more time?” She shrugs.

“I’m Charlotte, by the way.”