Maybe This Time (41 page)

“And when your life ended, you should have been free.”

You're taking Dennis back.

“Not necessarily,” Andie said, exasperated, “I'm trying to talk him toward the light, too. You're both being stubborn. But if he insists, I'll take him back to his home in Cleveland. He doesn't belong here, he was just visiting. But first I'm going to try to talk him into going.”

Would you go?

“Yes.”

How can you know?

“Because I wouldn't ever want to be stuck watching somebody
else live. Because if there's a new adventure ahead of me, I want to go toward it. Because living like a shadow would make me insane.”

So you'd just let go.

“It's what people who die are supposed to do. Not hang on to the past. Go toward the future.”

What if there isn't any future?

“I think there's something in the light. And I think because it's light, it's probably good. Or at least interesting and not eternal damnation in some sadist's idea of an afterlife. That is just something somebody dreamed up to keep other people in line.”

You don't think there's a hell.

“I don't see how a hell makes sense. What's the point of tormenting souls forever? Where's the poetry in that, what use is it? If there is a guiding intelligence that created this world, which is amazing, why would it design eternal pain and torment for the next one? It's just a stupid concept.”

To punish the bad people.

“Forever?” Andie said, getting impatient. “What good is that? That's just vengeance, it doesn't accomplish anything. The whole hell thing annoys me, it's such a power play.”

May was quiet for a long while, and finally Andie said, “May?”

All right.

Andie hesitated, and when May didn't say anything else, she went to check on Dennis. She'd have to be insane to take May back to Columbus with her. Even thinking about taking Dennis was crazy but at least he belonged up north. Well, no he didn't. He belonged on the other side. Wherever that was.

“Dennis?” she said at the door of the sitting room.

You got rid of them. Good for you.

“You can tell they're gone.”

Yes. They're gone. It's much better here now.

“It's still Hell House, Dennis. Now, about you.”

Don't worry about me,
Dennis said.
I can stay. I'm not going to kill anybody.

“Right,” Andie said and went back upstairs to the kids, meeting Flo on the first flight of stairs as she went to get bandages for Carter; and Lydia on the second flight, carrying the lunch tray down.

“North's throwing up in the bathroom,” Lydia said.

“Well, it's his turn,” Andie said and went up to the nursery.

When she opened the nursery door, the fire was off, and May was there with Alice and Carter.

“Hey!” Andie said, but May said,
All right.

“All right what?”

I'll move on. Alice has the lock of hair.

Alice held out a thick, dark curl, her face sober.

“Did you tell them what it means?” Andie said.

They know. I just need one favor from you.

“All right,” Andie said cautiously.

I want to hug them good-bye.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

No, really hug them. I want to borrow your body.

“No!” Andie took a step back. “No. You did it before and it was horrible. No.”

Andie, I'm never going to see them again. This is the end for us. You don't have anything to worry about. I'll go. Even if I didn't, you're stronger than I am. You can get rid of me any time you want.

Andie looked back at the kids, standing silent and miserable. They'd never had a chance to say good-bye, she was their last close family member, maybe it would help them—

I just want to hug them.

Andie swallowed. “All right.”

Thank you,
May said.
Just relax.

“That's not happening,” Andie said, and felt the cold in her bones again, felt May fill her as she shivered, saw everything go black and
white, and then May was lifting her arms over her head, stretching to feel her muscles.

“A body,” May said. “You don't know how awful it is not to have a body!”

Yes, I do,
Andie said.
Make this fast. This is horrible.

May turned toward the kids and Andie went with her, feeling her body follow somebody else's command, the nausea rising again from the sheer wrongness of it. May bent down and hugged Alice, and the little girl hugged her back.

“Keep your promise,” she whispered in Andie's ear, and May said, “I will.”

Then May straightened and held out Andie's arms to Carter. “Come say good-bye, Carter!”

Carter turned and walked away.

“Carter!” May called. “It's me. It's not Andie, it's
me.
”

He turned back at the door. “I'd hug Andie,” he said and walked out.

“He's just upset,” May said to Alice.

“You promised,” Alice said.

Promised what?
Andie said.
What's going on?

“That I wouldn't keep your body,” May said, and let go, and Andie slumped from the relief of it, the cold leaving her as May went.

She was weak and nauseous but she was the only one in her head again.

Thank you,
May said, and then Carter came back in.

“You okay?” he said to Andie.

“Yes,” Andie began, and Carter took the curl from Alice and put it in the fire. May took one sorrowful look back and vanished, and Andie said, “Wait! May! I'm sorry. Good luck . . . May?”

The curl turned to ash, and there was nothing there.

“Oh,” she said, looking at the kids. “She's gone. Are you all right?”

Carter turned and left.

“We're okay,” Alice said, and followed him.

“Wait a minute,” Andie said, but they'd just lost their aunt, really lost her this time, and if they wanted to talk about it, they'd tell her.
Hell, I want to talk about it,
she thought, but the only person she really wanted to talk to was North and he was throwing up with a concussion.

So she got boxes and went through the nursery cupboards, packing up everything she found that was theirs, and when the kids came back half an hour later, she said, “I'm packing. We can go to Columbus now, right?”

Carter nodded, and she took a deep breath, just from the relief of it all.

“It'll be okay now,” she told Carter, but his face was a mask again. “You'll like Columbus,” she told Alice.

Alice nodded and held Rose Bunny closer.

Andie kissed her cheek, and Alice suddenly wrapped her arms around Andie's neck and pulled her down.

“I love you, Andie,” she said.

“I love you, too, baby,” Andie said, blinking back tears. “It'll all be all right now, I swear.”

Alice nodded and said, “Can I have a box? I'll pack my clothes.”

“There's more in the hall,” Andie told her, thinking,
It's safe to go into the hall because the ghosts are gone.

When she turned, Carter was watching them, his jaw set.

“I love you, too,” she told him. “I know you don't believe me, but I'll make it all right for you, I swear.”

“I believe you,” he said, and went out to the hall and picked up two boxes, even as Flo came up and said, “Oh, honey, be careful of your hand.”

It was going to be all right. They were packing. It was over.

And May was gone forever, all that gaiety and passion burned away in an instant.

I'm sorry, May,
Andie thought, and went to pack her own things.

 

By eight, the kids were packed, fed, and put to bed, ready to leave the next morning.

“I can't believe we're really going,” Andie said to North when she went into May's bedroom. “How's your head?”

“Bashed in,” North said, sitting up in bed. “But I've stopped throwing up. Tell me again why Carter hit me with a fire extinguisher?”

“Just get some sleep. You have a lot of stuff to move tomorrow.”

“Are the kids okay?”

Andie nodded. “I think they're relieved, but it's hard to tell. They had a rough day.”

“They're good kids,” North said. “We'll take them home and keep them safe, and in a while, they'll be—”

“Normal? Not a chance.” Andie climbed into bed beside him and stretched. “God, I'm tired.”

She reached over and turned out the light and settled in beside him. There was a long silence and then he said, “You're coming back, too, right? You're moving in with us?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Good.”

She lay in the darkness next to him, and thought about the future. She'd been concentrating so long on getting the kids out of the house, and now they were going to be out of the house and she had to look at the next problem. No matter what North said, he was going to get caught up in work again, she had to accept that. He was a hard worker, that was one of the things she loved about him. She could make him eat with the kids every night, she could force him to remember them, but she was going to have to live with him spending more time with his desk than he did with her.
This has to
be enough,
she thought, and decided it was. Even if it all happened the way it did the last time, this time she could stand it. She was different now.

North's voice came out of the dark. “You all right?”

“I'm just fine.” She rolled to face him and felt his hand slide under her waist. “I'm just thinking about the future.”

“It'll be different this time,” he said. “I swear, I won't make the same mistakes.”

“Me, either. We'll make different ones, though. But it doesn't matter, I'll stick this time. We were just too young and we got married too fast. And I was unrealistic. I wanted to be adored, and that's just not your style. Which I would have known if I'd gotten to know you first. I was just . . . immature.” She sighed. “And then I got the guy who adored me with Will and I didn't like that, either. I don't know what I want. Besides you. I want you. I know I want you.”

He was quiet for so long that she thought he'd fallen asleep, and then he said, “I lost your scent first. I kept your pillowcase unwashed for three weeks and then Lydia sent in the cleaners and it was gone. It's hard to remember scent. I dated a woman for a month once, Lydia and Southie despised her, and I didn't like her much, but I couldn't let go until Southie pointed out that she used the same shampoo you did. Sense memory. She smelled like you.”

“Oh,” Andie said.

“I kept your voice longer. At least a year. And after that I got a tape, you'd done that morning show for the school, remember? I got the tape so I could hear your voice. Close my eyes and think you were in the same room. But it was a tape and it didn't sound quite right and I lost your voice.”

“North—”

“I never lost your face.”

Andie went up on one elbow to face him, not sure what was going on. “It's okay.”

“I adored you,” North said. “I just didn't tell you. You were the
most amazing thing that had ever happened to me. Nothing else like you in my world before or since. I was crazy about you. I still am. Ten years later you walk into my office and I see you and it's like the first time, I can't think, I can't talk, I just need you
with me.
It makes me crazy, but now that I've got you back . . . You're everything, Andie. I should have told you that before.”

“Oh,” Andie said, swallowing back tears. “I still have your T-shirt. The one I bought you at the Jackson Browne concert. You used to sleep in it and when I left, I took it because I wanted something of yours. I've never washed it. I keep finding it every time I unpack and I think, ‘I should throw that out,' but I can't. And I still have the ring.” She held up her hand, knowing he couldn't see it in the dark but wanting to show him anyway.

“It's a terrible ring,” North said, his voice thick.

“I love this ring,” Andie said, her throat thick, too. “I love you. I loved you then, too, so much. That's why it hurt so much when you left me, I loved you so much and I thought you didn't love me, but I've never stopped loving you, North, never even for a moment, I—”

He pulled her to him and kissed her hard, and she clung to him.

“This time we'll do it right,” he said to her. “We won't do it over, we'll do it new. This time, we'll make it.”

“Yes, please,” she said, and believed it.

“I swear,” he said and kissed her again, and she moved against him, wanting him again.

“How bad does your head feel?” she whispered to him.

“It feels fine,” he said and pulled her down to him and loved her.

 

Andie got downstairs early the next morning in time to catch Isolde before she left. “Call me when you get to Columbus,” she said, handing Andie her card. “If you ever need help. Or make banana bread and want company.”

“I will do that,” Andie said, and meant it.

Then she went back into the house, passing North and Southie and Carter carrying boxes to the cars, and stopped in the sitting room to deal with her last loose end.

She said, “Dennis?,” prepared to convince him to embrace the afterlife.

Good morning.

“Dennis, we're leaving.”

Yes, I know.

Andie smiled at where she thought he was. “I'm thinking maybe you should, too.”

With you?

“No, I was thinking more of the next plane of existence for you. The kids and I are going to Columbus. It's not the same thing.”

I might like Columbus.