End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) (17 page)

“Why can’t we see you?”
my mom asked.

Peggy was holding the
stick this time.
We don’t know. Some have been able to before
. One of
the first things I learned about Peggy was how seeing Lawrence, Juanita, Frank
and Georgia on the side of the road caused her to wreck.

“Maybe we can bring a
psychic?” my mom asked, directing the question toward Candy.

At this suggestion, my
dad stopped pacing and faced her. “That is preposterous! There is no such thing
as a ‘psychic’, just someone really good at ripping people off.”

“But Bruce, don’t you
want to see our son?”

“I do, God knows I do,
but he’s gone from our world Karen, you have to accept that.”

“Bruce, his life was
snatched away too soon. We didn’t get a chance to say good bye.” She collapsed
into tears again. My brother, Gavin, put his arm around her and glared at our
father.

I asked Peggy for the stick
and wrote in the sand,
don’t fight over me
. I underlined this - twice.

“Dad, I want a psychic to
come up here too. Maybe he, or she, can help Tobin move on.”

“Absolutely not. There
are greater forces at work here. We shouldn’t interfere.”

“Well, I’m his wife and
you can’t tell me what to do,” Candy said, her head raised high and her chin
forward. I laughed and knew my dad had met his match. Once Candy dug her heels
in, she wouldn’t budge.

They stared at each
other, a face-off with my last words creating the line in the sand. Georgia told me that my dad reminded me of hers. She mimicked a shudder.

“We’ll discuss this
later,” my dad said and walked away from the group. “I’ll be in the car.”

“Don’t worry Tobin,
honey. We’ll come back and will help you,” my mom said before everyone left.

Weeks went by and no one
came to visit. From the second the sun started to lighten the sky in the east,
I’d wait. Georgia would often accompany me. We were closer in age when we died and
I spent hours telling her about video games, cell phones and the Internet.

***

Gavin paid me a visit
just as I was convinced my family had moved on. He stood near the spot where
Candy had left flowers. The petals were long gone. Only shriveled up stems and
a faded bow, which was fraying at the ends, remained.

He didn’t say anything at
first, just rubbed the toe of a sneaker in the sand. His hands were in his
jeans pockets, his shoulders hunched forward, and his shaggy hair hung in his
face.

“Tobin? Are you still
here?”

Yes
, I wrote in
the sand by the groove his foot had gouged. His lips twitched up on one side
into a smirk.

“I knew it! Dad’s been
making us go to church twice a week so we can pray for you to crossover. I told
him that I didn’t think it would work.”

That’s Dad,
I
wrote.

“Yeah. He convinced Mom
that it isn’t healthy to dwell and come up here. I’m not supposed to be here
either, but…whatever.”

You’re driving?

“Cool, huh? I got my
license three weeks ago. I’m saving up for a car. The wagon cramps my style.”
Gavin turned back toward the highway where the beat up station wagon with faded
wooden paneling was parked.

How’s Egan? Candy?

“Good, they’re doing well.
Candy has a hard time coming up here. She says she cries for days after.”

Oh.

“Hey Tobin…what’s it
like?”

What’s what like?

“Being a ghost or
whatever you are?”

I had to hand the stick
off to Georgia, who was closest to me.
It’s hard to explain. We’re stuck
here.
I told her to write.
 

“Huh.” He paused and
started working at the groove in the sand again. The black fabric of his
Converse faded under a layer of dust. “Did it hurt when you died?” he asked.

I think it did, but
the memory of the pain doesn’t stay with you.

“Good, that’s really good
to hear, man. Hey, I gotta get back so I’m not late for dinner. You know how dad
freaks out. This is cool. I miss talking to you bro.”

Having recovered some of
the energy, I asked Georgia for the stick.
I miss you too. I’m still here –
kinda.

“Yeah.  I’ll come back.

Ok.

I watched as he walked to
the car and wished that I could go with him. We’d drive to my parent’s house
and I’d have seconds of my mom’s spaghetti and meatballs. Just like old times.
Then I’d go home to Candy and play with Egan; hear his laughter one more time.

Frank came up and stood
by my side. “You’re one lucky guy.”

“Ha!” I said. Bitterness
hung on that one syllable. “You call being stuck here lucky?”

“No, but at least your
family comes to see you. No one came to see me…or anyone else.”

“I’d do anything to see
my family again,” Lawrence whispered.

They moved away and went
to join the others who had formed a semi-circle around me. We were a strange,
dysfunctional family kept together by unseen forces. 

***

Gavin’s visits became less
frequent. He brought his girlfriend up the summer before he left for college
and she freaked out when I wrote to him in the sand. After that he stopped
coming. I didn’t blame him. He had a life to live.

Chapter
Thirty-Seven

JUANITA

It was another day for
us. The sun blazed and traffic whipped by on the highway.  No storms threatened
in any direction, so not being able to charge up on extra energy meant for a
boring day. Bob stood in the middle of the interstate and enjoyed the thrill of
cars passing through him. He once told me he did this because even in death he
was looking for a high.

A new Mercedes pulled
over to the shoulder next to our clearing. Sun reflected off of its silver
paint and Frank whistled. “Now that’s a beautiful car,” he said.

We all watched with
interest as an older Hispanic woman stepped out from the driver’s side. Large
sunglasses took up most of her face. Her mouth was drawn down in a frown. She
walked around and opened up the passenger side. A cane appeared first, followed
by a shriveled up man, topped with thinning white hair. He towed an oxygen tank
behind him; the narrow wheels kept getting stuck in the sand, so the woman
picked it up and carried it beside her with ease.

The old man paused and
surveyed the area before moving forward. The odd couple made slow progress
across the strip of land and came to rest in the shade of my tree.

“Uncle Pedro, what is
this all about?” the woman asked. At the mention of my brother’s name I moved
closer. Underneath the deep creases of wrinkles and the bushy white eyebrows,
were familiar brown eyes. I inhaled sharply and stared intently at his face.

“I needed to come here
and there’s something I have to tell you,” the man gasped, trying to catch his
breath.

The woman crossed her
arms over her chest and stared out across the valley. Sweat dripped down from
her temple and landed on the collar of her hot pink shirt. The color contrasted
nicely against her dark skin. I admired her thick, curly hair that even though
it was streaked with gray, reminded me of my daughter’s curls. Recognition
began to tug at my memories.

“Under this tree is where
your mother died,” the old man finally said. I let out a choking sound, part
wail. Everyone had gathered around me.

“Juanita, what is it?” Georgia asked. I couldn’t answer for I had one hand over my mouth and the other was reaching
out towards Mariella.

“Uncle Pedro, what are
you saying? My mother died when she gave birth to me.”

“No, no,” Pedro’s head
dropped to his chest and his breathing became more labored. “We made up a
stupid story…I don’t even remember why. Shame, maybe? It was so long ago.”

“Uncle, as your doctor, I
think you need to get out of this heat,” she tried to steer my brother back to
the car. He stubbornly held his ground.

“Mariella, you need to
hear the truth!” He drove his cane into the sand and refused to move.

The confirmation of her
name was all I needed and I faced my friends, the group that had become my
family over the decades. Lawrence appeared more solid, summoning up energy from
who knows where, and put his hand on my shoulder. “She’s my daughter! Ay dios
mio, my niña! She’s alive…and a doctor!”  

“Are you sure?” Lawrence asked.

“Si, yes I’m sure! I
never thought I’d see her again…shhh listen to mi hermano.” Pedro had begun to
tell Mariella our story.

“Your mother wanted a
better life for you. We were on our way to meet your Uncle Enrique in Prescott
when she was bitten by a rattlesnake…twice. She was almost dead when I placed
her in the shade of this tree. Enrique and I were going to come back for her,
but we got picked up by immigration and deported.”

So that’s why he never
came back, I thought. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. Pedro held true to his
promise and raised Mariella right. The strong, smart woman I always wanted her
to be stood before me. A wedding ring flashed on her left hand when she tucked
a stray curl behind her ear. A useless gesture for seconds later Mariella shook
her head, freeing the hair and a tear slipped from her right eye. “She died
here? Alone?”

Pedro nodded and reached
for his niece with a shaking hand. I moved closer too and began concentrating
on the energy around us, in the trees and the cacti. My eyes were closed and energy
prickled through me. When I was strong enough, I reached out to rest a hand on
top of Pedro’s. He jerked his head up and moved his hand away; allowing mine to
land on my daughters. Mariella gasped and looked down. Her gaze then traveled
up my arm to meet my eyes.

“Mama?” she asked and I
smiled. She had closely resembled her father when she was a baby, but, up close
I saw more of my mother in her features, from the crow’s feet around her deep,
brown eyes to the slight cleft in her chin. Pedro coughed and I turned to him.
He smiled hesitantly at first, but then his smile grew wider. He had a few less
teeth and more lines around his mouth, but his grin was the same. This is what
I had been waiting for; a chance to see my family again. At that moment a sense
of complete peace washed over me and my energy wasn’t quivering on the brink of
exhaustion.  

“You came back,” I said.
“I thought I’d been forgotten.”

“Never,” Pedro said. “I
wish I had come sooner. Have you been here the whole time?”

“Si,” I reached for
Mariella’s hand again and managed to hold it. Her grip was firm, her hands soft
and warm. “You’re a doctor?” I asked her.

“Yes, an Oncologist.”

“What’s that?”

“I specialize in cancer.”

“Oh,” I paused and
glanced at the oxygen tank Pedro was hooked up to.

“I have lung cancer, Juanita.
I don’t have much longer, which is why we’re here.”

“No!” I grabbed his hand
and we stood in a small circle with our hands linking us together.

“Will I be stuck on earth
like you?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t
happen to everyone.”

“I see.” He lowered his
head and seemed to doze off.

“Uncle Pedro, you need to
get out of this heat,” Mariella said, tugging gently on his arm and he jerked
awake. I could see the dark half-moons under his eyes. “Mama, I’m sorry, but he
isn’t well.”

“I understand. Just
seeing you and knowing you’re okay…” I squeezed her hand one last time before
releasing it. “Please, before you go, do you have children?”

Mariella’s face softened
and she smiled. “Yes, two sons and a daughter. Her name is Juanita. I have
grandchildren too.”

She placed her arm
underneath Pedro’s and guided him back to the car. After getting him situated,
Mariella came back with something black in her hand.

“I have pictures,” she
said and light bounced off of the object she was holding. Turns out it was a
telephone. Tobin informed me it was something called an iPhone.  

“Wait,” I set my hand on
hers. “Don’t you think this is strange? You’re talking to the ghost of your
mother.”

Mariella regarded me with
her dark eyes, her head cocked to one side. “No…yes. Well, not really. Cancer
isn’t a forgiving disease and a number of my patients have hovered on the edge
of death. I tend to keep an open mind about what happens afterwards. Plus, I
think I’m in shock or maybe I’m dreaming?”

I nodded and removed my
hand. Mariella punched her fingers against the phone then held it out for me to
see. At first there was a glare, so she used her other hand to block the sun.

“Here’s Tomas, he’s
twelve and my oldest grandson.” She pointed to a boy with Francisco’s
mischievous, lopsided grin. I had to take a step back. Now I was the one in
shock. She swiped her finger across the screen and a new picture appeared.

“Here’s Pedro, named
after you know who,” she chuckled, “He’s ten.” A boy with a head of dark, thick
curls smiled back at me.

“Oh, here’s Juanita,”
Mariella said when she swiped the screen again. “The two boys are hers.” I regarded
my namesake. She had a big smile that lit up her face. Laugh lines framed her
mouth and fanned out from large dark eyes framed with thick lashes. The shape
of her face was like Mariella’s as was her thick, curly hair. If I had a
heartbeat I knew it would be racing. It was almost too much – to be able to see
my daughter, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Mariella gave me a few
moments before moving on to the next picture. My great-granddaughter resembled
me when I was her age. A long braid hung over her shoulder, decorated at the
end with a bright red ribbon. Her eyes seemed shy and veiled by long lashes.

“They’re beautiful,” I
whispered after we had gone through the pictures. They were and happy too. When
Mariella pulled up a picture of her and husband, the love they shared for each
other was easy to see, from the way he held her close and to the smile on her
face. “Thank you for showing me.”

“De nada,” she said and
looked back at her car. “I really need to get Uncle Pedro home. I’d like to
come back?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be
here,” I said. During our reunion a tugging sensation kept nagging at me, as if
trying to pull me away. I had never experienced this feeling before and
something told me that it was time for me to move on.

“Oh,” She bit on her lower
lip and I could see she was struggling with something. “Well, goodbye then.”
She started walking back to her car.

“I love you niña!” I
called after her. She stopped and turned back to face me. Tears glistened on
her cheeks and she smiled, sadness dampening some of its earlier luster.

“I love you too, Mama.”

Mariella got into the car
and with a final wave, she pulled onto the highway. I watched until they
disappeared around a curve. The tugging sensation grew increasingly stronger
until I couldn’t focus on anything else. I didn’t fight it.

***

LAWRENCE

Observing Juanita’s interaction
with her family, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. The sheer joy on her
face said it all. This was the happiest I had ever seen her. Their reunion was
brief, but I’d do anything for two more seconds with my children. Juanita had
received a miracle.

Not only was her reunion
amazing, but the fact that she was able to touch and speak with her family was
incredible. She had reached a whole new level of our existence. With each
passing moment she spent with her daughter, Juanita had grown so solid she seemed
almost human, made out of flesh and blood again. I couldn’t wait to ask her
questions. As soon as her family drove off I turned to face her, but she was
gone. I quickly surveyed the area, especially the area around her tree, but
couldn’t see her.

“Where’s Juanita?” I
asked Frank.

“I don’t know where she
went. Maybe she needed to be alone.”

“Yes, but she can’t
travel very far. I’ve checked everywhere.”

I asked the group to
split up and search for Juanita. Minutes later they reported back that she was
gone.

“Do you think she…moved
on or crossed over?” Peggy asked.

“Maybe she did,” I
answered. “Where else could she be?”

We stared at each other
in stunned silence, our circle suddenly incomplete.