The Turning (15 page)

“Listen to you!” said Linda. “My God! I think the flu’s gone down into your chest. If it doesn’t clear up by the weekend, I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“Don’t threaten me,” I said.

“Jack! Stop it. You’re scaring the children! Go to bed right now!” Linda said sharply.

I was going to tell her to get lost, but I caught a look in her eye.... She looked pretty scared herself. I decided I’d better shut up and leave.

“Get some rest, Jack,” Miles called after me.

And Flora said, “Yes, get some sleep.”

I almost asked, Are you real kids? What kind of children sound like that, talking in superpolite grown-up voices? But I didn’t say that, or anything. And later I was glad.

I was feeling a little guilty as I went up to my room. Linda and Miles and Flora had never been anything but kind to me. It wasn’t their fault I’d spent the day wanting to see a person who doesn’t exist. It was crazy, how much I wanted to see her.

I’m glad I can say this, Sophie. It’s a good thing we’ve broken up, because otherwise there would be so much I had to hide. I know that you and I were happy together, and we had some nice times. But I have to tell you that what I felt about you was nothing compared to what I feel about Lucy. That desperate wanting to see the person … I hope you don’t think I’m being heartless. Because I don’t want to be cruel to you or Linda or Miles or Flora. I’m a good person, you know that. I don’t understand what’s going on. It’s like I’m under a spell here.

Or maybe it’s like Linda says: maybe I’m still sick.

In fact that night I was really sick. I could tell that my fever was coming back. And strangely enough, I was happy. Every chill and ache and burning pain made me think that Lucy was connected with it, and maybe I would get to see her again.

I think I’d better stop now. But I want to tell you one thing: If you tell my dad one word of this, you’re going to be sorry.

Jack

DEAR JACK,

You’re really scaring me now. Maybe this is all a joke, but it doesn’t sound like one. Look, we can break up if you want to. I’ll be sad about it, but I’ll understand. And it’s not true that I’m seeing Josh again. I don’t know how to make you believe me. But if you don’t want to be with me … okay. People grow apart. But, Jack, please read over your last letter. Look at what you said.

You’re breaking up with me because you’ve fallen in love with a woman who was murdered? None of it sounds like you—all that anger and resentment toward Linda and the kids. Maybe it is some physical illness, like Linda says. Or maybe the strain was more than you knew, entertaining the kids and being so isolated and our being apart. Maybe something snapped in you. It happens. I never imagined it happening to someone like you, but I guess I didn’t know you that well. I can see that now.

Maybe some kind of time bomb went off inside your brain. Isn’t that what happened to your mother? Maybe it has something to do with your mom dying when you were so young, and now you’re obsessed with a dead woman.

But like I said, you’re scaring me. I want you to write me right now and tell me you’re feeling better and sound like a sane person again. It’s still all right if you want to break up. I can deal with it. But I can’t stand being this worried.

I promise not to tell your dad. At least not for a while. I know you didn’t mean it when you said you were going to make me sorry. I want you to feel that there’s someone you can talk to. Even if I’m not physically there. But if I don’t hear from you pretty soon, and if you don’t sound better, or if you don’t tell Linda about all this crazy stuff you’re imagining, I’m going to have to tell someone. Someone’s going to have to help you.

Write to me soon.

Love,

Sophie

DEAR SOPHIE,

Well, I guess I finally know what it takes to get your attention. I have to fall in love with someone else. And maybe you wouldn’t even care if I’d hooked up with another girl. The fact that it’s a dead woman—well, that got you writing.

I’m glad you wrote, but you know what? You can forget the Freudian crap about my mom dying being the reason why this is happening. Just like you can save the unbelievably tasteless joke about the bomb exploding in my mother’s head. And you and Josh can get back together and get married someday for all I care. But you’re right about it being a bad idea for me to be mad at Linda and the kids. I’ll try to keep that under control. I don’t know why I’m even writing to you, Sophie. Maybe it’s just like a bad habit I can’t break.

Where was I? Oh, right. The night I got sick again or had that relapse or whatever.

I made myself stay awake, thinking it was the fever that had brought Lucy last time, so maybe it would work again. But the fever was stronger than I was. My eyes hurt. I was blinking....

Someone was there, sitting on the bed.

“You came back,” I said.

“I had to,” Lucy said. “I want to give you something. And I want to say more about … what happened with the kids. About that card game where our hearts got ripped apart every time we lost.”

“What about it?”

“Norris used to try and turn Miles and Flora against each other. Every so often he’d make them say terrible things about each other, horrifying reasons why they hated each other.”

I said, “They seem okay with it now.”

“They aren’t,” she said. “Believe me, they aren’t okay.”

“Miles got kicked out of school,” I said.

“We know that.”

“What do you mean ‘we’? Where’s Norris? Where is he now?”

I couldn’t see very well in the dark, but I could hear Lucy sniffling. “He’s still in the bar.”

“What bar?”

“Where it happened.” Lucy was crying now. “The shooting. I know Linda told you about that. Have you been to Norris’s cottage?”

“No,” I said. “I never wanted to. There was never any reason to go there.”

“You should. There’s something you could learn there.”

I said, “I’ll go tomorrow.” I tried to keep my voice steady, not just because I felt sick. But because, after everything that had happened, I was scared to go to the cottage, and I didn’t want Lucy to know. “Is that where it is?”

“Where what is?” I heard her breathing in the dark. It seemed odd that ghosts needed to breathe.

“The thing you came to give me.”

“No. I have that here with me.”

“What is it?”

“A medal,” said Lucy. “A holy medal.”

“What kind?” I don’t know much about holy medals. Dad’s some kind of Protestant, but he stopped going to church after Mom died. He hardly ever went before, except sometimes when Mom did. Which wasn’t very often.

“It’s a St. Jude medal,” Lucy said. “The patron saint of lost causes and hopeless cases.”

“Thanks a lot,” I said. “Is that what you think of me? A hopeless case?” I waited for Lucy to laugh, just to be polite. I don’t know why I expected a ghost to have a sense of humor or to care about politeness.

“I was the hopeless case,” Lucy said. “And I thought Norris was my hope. But after I let him into my life, I was more hopeless than ever.”

It was the saddest thing I ever heard. I wanted to say, I can make you happy. But what would I have said next? And how could I make a dead person happy? I guess I wasn’t thinking very clearly.

“I’ve had this medal since I was a little girl. And it brought me luck—what little luck I had. It rescued me, sort of. I liked my life here, I liked the kids, I liked Linda. It was better than my life before. I don’t want to talk about my old life. I wouldn’t have got the job here unless I lied to Jim Crackstone. And he didn’t check out my references. He didn’t want to be bothered. But Norris was my bad luck. When I left the island to follow him, I almost gave the medal to Flora. But I was scared to give it away. I took it with me. And for a while my luck held. I got a job teaching school on the mainland—”

“Linda told me that, too,” I said. It was all coming back to me now. I knew where this was going.

“I guess my luck might have kept improving, if I’d been smart. If I’d left Norris. Things with Norris were deteriorating daily. It didn’t help that he was gambling more and more. And he’d started losing big-time. The guys he was playing against were in a whole different league from me and Miles and Flora. And the stakes they played for weren’t soul-destroying secrets but serious money. Which mattered more to these guys than secrets. And they weren’t scared of Norris, like we were.

“One night Norris was losing badly. Everyone was drinking, which these guys usually didn’t do when they were playing. But they must have figured that Norris was on such a losing streak, they could have played with half their brains pickled in alcohol, and they’d still take all his money.

“I was there at the table with them. He liked me to be with him, and I went, though I knew that pretty soon my presence at those games was going to cost me my teaching job. But I didn’t care about anything but Norris. I know how insane that was.”

I said, “I know what that’s like, Lucy.” And then I got really embarrassed because what I meant is that I felt that way about Lucy. I would have done anything, anything she asked.

She said, “I’d sort of stopped paying attention when I heard Norris say, ‘I guess it’s hopeless.’ Norris fell silent. Then he said, ‘Why didn’t I think of that before?’ The saint of hopeless cases. Lucy! Let’s bet your medal.’

“He told the other players, ‘Gentleman, I have one more thing to bet against … to bet against whatever you think will match it. My lady friend’s lifesaving medal. It works miracles for its lucky owner. Like my girlfriend here. The one who’s always crying.’”

“Where is he?” I asked Lucy. “Tell me. I’ll go punch him out, I swear.”

Lucy didn’t seem to hear, or maybe she just ignored me.

She said, “I told Norris no. I wouldn’t let him bet my medal. It was the first time I’d ever refused him anything. And the sound of my own voice saying no finally woke me up. The medal was in my pocket. I grabbed it and held on to it. I told Norris I was leaving. I needed to step outside and get some air. He said, ‘That’s what you think.’ He came after me. We started arguing and fighting. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, not with those other guys watching.

“Everyone started shouting, saying that Norris and I weren’t really fighting. They said we were just pretending. Someone yelled that this was all a trick, an act we’d cooked up to distract them from the game and wreck their concentration. Now that they were distracted, Norris was going to win.

“I heard someone say, ‘Put that gun away.’ There was more shouting, and then it happened. It hurt for a second. I felt like something was leaving my body, rushing out of me. Then, just like that, it was over. There was no more pain. I was floating above myself, looking down at myself....”

“I’m sorry, Lucy” was all I could say.

“Don’t be,” she said. “It’s not so awful. It’s really not. You get used to it pretty quickly.”

“Being dead?” I asked. But she didn’t answer.

“Maybe it’s a bad luck medal,” I said. “That’s what it sounds like to me.”

“Trust me, Jack,” she said. “I know these things. And I want you to have it.”

It killed me when she said my name. I was so choked up I could hardly speak. I held out my hand in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t touch you. It’s against the rules.”

“You can’t touch me?” I said. “Not even to give me something?”

“I can’t,” she said. “It’s the first rule. I can’t even risk it. I’ll leave the medal on your night table.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I blinked. I opened my eyes. The morning sun was blazing in my window. I heard the seagulls cry.

Ha-ha. Fooled you.

Jack

DEAR JACK,

Your last letter scared me even worse than the letter before. I think I should tell your dad. I think you need help. I want your permission to tell him. I still care about you.

Love,

Sophie

DEAR SOPHIE,

Permission to do what? Permission to get me declared legally out of my mind? Is that what you think? That I’ve gone off the deep end? Do you think I don’t realize that this is something you do? Something you like to do? You go out with guys and then dump them and drive them crazy. Don’t you think I know that Josh spent time in rehab after you broke up? Which he’s out of now, so you two can get back together, and you can do the same thing to him all over again. Well, you’re not going to do it to me!!! You don’t have my permission!!!

Anyway, you’d have trouble convincing someone I’m crazy when now I have physical evidence that what’s happened to me is real. That evidence is beside my laptop on the desk as I write this.

When I woke up in the morning, I was afraid to look. So I reached out my hand. I felt it.

Lucy’s holy medal.

It’s tiny. An oval silver frame around a full color image of the saint. To be honest, St. Jude doesn’t look all that special. If I was sitting next to the guy on a train or in a waiting room, I don’t know if I’d be interested enough to start a conversation. But that’s not the point. The point is that it was Lucy’s, and she loved it more than anything. And she gave it to me. She gave me more than you ever did!