Won't Let Go (13 page)

Then he’s gone. And I’m no closer to finding out the truth.
Dammit.

“Dammit!” I pound my fist on the steering wheel of my car. I’m huffing and puffing with frustration and maybe a hint of rage.
If I’d only had a few more minutes.
I’m sure I could have gotten something from him, anything. But I failed. And I somehow doubt if I came back tomorrow it’d be any better. I lost my chance.

Salty tears sting my eyes as my chest heaves. “Dammit!” I yell once more.

“Hey, what did this car ever do to you?” Embry’s voice slices through the air, bringing with him a frosty breeze that quickly cools my hot tears. It almost freezes them so they don’t have a chance to fall.

“I had him!” I raise my hand, making a small space with my fingers and saying, “I was this close!”

Embry’s tone switches to soothing. “It’s okay,” he says and quickly forms himself a body, taking my hand. He turns it over, thumb rubbing circles on the red-tinged skin that made contact with the steering wheel. The pressure hurts. I didn't do any serious damage, but the skin is most definitely tender. Slowly he raises my hand and presses his cold lips against my injury. Just as the icy air cooled my face, his lips do the same to my hand.

But I’m not so easily mollified. “It’s not okay. We had him. I know he would have cracked—” I take my hand back and wipe my arm across my face. “And you, where were you?”

“Around, and it doesn’t matter. We got what we needed.”

I look at him incredulously. “Got what we needed? Are you kidding me? We got nothing. We aren’t any closer.
I
failed.”

Embry snatches my hand back, even slides down the length of the bench closer to me. “Shhh,” he coos. “He didn’t do it.”

“Yeah, I know he didn’t. You should have seen him in there, or I guess you did. For a second he had me going, but he’s definitely no murderer, or I guess not an attempted one.” And then I say, “Wait, how do you know that? Oh my God! Do you remember something?” I’m giddy with excitement. Though it only lasts a moment. Embry’s solemn features slam all hope of him having gotten his memory back out the door.

“No, I don’t remember. But I know...I don’t know how I know, but I’d bet my life on it. He had nothing to do with my accident. It may have been his car, but he wasn’t the one driving it.”

“I don’t understand. How—”

He waves me off. “I can’t explain it, but when I touched him, it was like I could feel what he was feeling. His heart was racing, his brain running a mile a minute, and underneath it all was this intense amount of grief.”

“But—but he could have had information. We should go back tomorrow. We should keep coming back until he tells us something.”

Embry shakes his head. “It would be no use. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know anything.”

“Then what do we do now?”

“Well...get him out of jail, of course.” Embry chuckles.

How did I know he was going to say that?
Maybe I should have asked that lawyer type guy for his number.

I know getting Elliot out of prison is the right thing to do. If he is in fact innocent, but...“How are we going to do that?” I state the obvious.

“We just have to find the real culprit. Easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy? I must be rubbing off on you.” I smile and playfully nudge him with my elbow. “So man-with-the-plan, how are we going to figure out who tried to kill you when
you
don’t even know who
you
are, you’re brother doesn’t know
anything
...and
I
just moved here and know less than
nothing
.”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Great,” I mumble. Now, not only do I have my ghostboy hanging around, messing with my head, I’ve got to figure out how to break someone out of prison? I’m not sure how well I can play detective. But I think I’m up for the challenge. This might be the best and worst spring break ever!

The trip back to Willard Grove is mostly quiet. The radio sings to us, and after most every song Embry says, “I’ve never heard that before.” I laugh, make some jab about
getting with the times.
Only getting with the times isn't the problem at all. Deep down it makes me sad. Embry hasn’t just lost those three years, he’s lost everything. Every memory. And he’ll never get any of them back. It doesn’t matter what song is on the radio, from what era, he’ll always be hearing most of them for the first time. Sure, he'll remember them now, he seems to be able to form new memories, but part of me wonder's what the point is. When, or if, he wakes up, he'll be back at square one. He'll lose everything again. Worse. He might lose the memory of ever having known me. But I hold his hand and try so hard not to let on how I'm really feeling.

I’m not sure he bought it.

It's not until the last few miles that we come up with the only plan so far. Go back to the hospital, find an address, and hope, even pray, that his parents, wherever they are, have something to help us. Because not only will Embry never find peace, his brother will be stuck in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. I don’t think I can handle either. Not to mention, I’m starting to think this is the real reason Embry’s still here.

To get his brother free.

“If I told you again to stay in the car, or go home, would you listen?” I say to Embry as we pull into the visitor parking at the hospital.

“Probably not.”

“Figures,” I say, then add, “Alright, we have to make this quick. In and out,” one last time. I try to fill my voice with as much apprehension as possible. For some reason, it seems wrong for Embry to see himself. I doubt it will help him—if anything, it might make him feel worse. I’d rather leave him in the car, or send him home, but like me, he’s stubborn.

Embry gives me a final nod and a lopsided grin before disappearing into a plume of tiny particles that seem to almost float in the air, like when light streams perfectly into a room and you can see all the dust and allergens drift through the atmosphere.

I don’t call out to him. I know he’s there, hovering just out of my reach. Not quite in this world and not in the next.

This time I don’t have to stop at reception. I know where I’m going, and I head straight for the elevator. When the doors slide open, a cool breath of air tickles my ear. “After you,” Embry whispers. I can’t help but smile, even though I’m irritated. “Low profile,” I had told him earlier. Talking to me, so someone might hear—even though we don’t know if that’s true—isn’t the way. It just might make me seem even weirder than I’m sure I already am.

When we reach the third floor, I step out, Embry’s presence close on my heels. Making my way to the nurse’s station, I’m happy to see the nurse from the other day. Mrs. Looney Tunes. If anyone’s going to give me the answers I need, it’s going to be her.

“Ahem.” I do this throat clearing thing, that really just comes out like an awkward cough. It attracts the attention of the nurses. Three sets of eyes are on me. Two of them stand and wait for a response, but the last set, thankfully, glisten with recognition.

“I’m glad to see you back.” She smiles at me. It’s bright and full of warmth. Sincere.

“I was wondering if you could—um, help me with something?” I say. My eyes sweep over the other nurses. I take a step back, in hopes it gets the point across that I don’t want to discuss it with anyone but her.

She takes a few steps towards me. “Of course,” she says, and just like that we fall into step with each other down the hall. When we’re out of earshot, she slows her pace. “What can I do for you?”

“I need some information,” I say and lightly put my hand on her shoulder. “I need to know where Embry’s parents are.”

“I don’t know, and even if I did, I can’t share patient information with you.”

“Please. Please tell me. It’s important.”

Seconds of silence tick by. Long enough to notice Embry’s lack of presence.
Where is he?
Apparently you can’t trust a ghost. Regular rules don’t seem to apply to them.

The nurse sighs, her shoulders dramatically rise and fall, but when she says, “Wait here,” I’m so relieved. She turns and heads back towards the desk.

Naturally I wait.

One, two, three
.

Now I’ve waited long enough.

I turn back down the hall and walk the few paces to Embry’s room.

When I open the door, I’m not expecting anything out of the ordinary. However, that’s not what I find.

“What the hell are you doing?” I practically yell.

Embry’s ghost is sitting...on top of...
himself
.

“I was just—checking something?” he says as his ghost form
disappears
into his real body. A second later he pops back up into a sitting position.

“Get out of here or
poof
yourself gone. That nurse is going to be back any second,” I say, and then add, “How did you find yourself anyways?” I have to shake my head at how weird this all seems.

Seeing ghost Embry perched upon real Embry.

I’m seeing double.

It’s freaking me out.

“You know, it’s weird. As soon as we got off the elevator, I...knew,” he says. “I just kinda followed my senses. I must admit, it’s totally weird seeing myself.” He touches real Embry’s hair, his face, pulls at the gown covering his body and looks underneath. “Someone needs to give me a shave and a haircut.”

I blush. Did he just mean what I think he meant?
Oh God.
“Excuse me?”

He tugs at his hair. “I
said,
someone needs to give me a haircut.” Then his hand touches his chin. “And a shave. Why, what did you think I said?”

I gulp. “I just—didn’t hear you, is all.”

“And look,” he touches real Embry’s ear and then his own, “no earring.” Truth is I kinda like the earring that ghost Embry has. But also didn’t notice the last time I was here that it was missing from real Embry. I suppose with surgeries they took it out. Now, there’s just the tiniest hole, probably grown over.

“Okay, this is too weird.” I take a step towards the Embrys, then say, “Does seeing yourself...do you remember anything?”

“Nope.” His lips pop the ‘p.’ “Not a thing.”

I’m starting to wonder if there’s anything in this world that will get his memories back. I reach out and take real Embry’s hand. My thumb rubs circles on the skin.

“What? What’s that look for? And God, get off yourself.” I shake my head at how disturbing that sounds.

Embry slides off the bed and looks at his hand, his right hand, the same one I’m holding on the real Embry. “I—I think I can feel that.” He brings his hand closer, inspecting it, turning it over this way and that. “It tingles.”

I let his hand go, then slowly, gently brush my fingertips across his cheek. “Feel that too?”

Ghost Embry touches his own cheek. His azure eyes widen with amazement. He nods.

For some reason, my next instinct is to lean down and kiss him, only I don’t get the chance. The heavy hospital door opens with a
whoosh
.

“I thought I’d find you in here.” The nurse bustles into the room. “It’s so nice to see him have visitors.”

My head jerks to the side. Embry’s spirit is gone. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
What if she saw him?

“Here.” The nurse reaches out, presenting a small slip of paper. I go to grab it, but she doesn’t let go right away. Instead she says, “I’m not sure how this will help. Awhile back we sent some people over there. They came back saying it’s a Lock n’ Save.”

“A storage place?” I raise my eyebrows.

“Yup.”

“Well, thanks anyways,” I say. She lets go of the paper. I slip it in into my back pocket.

“If you find anything there or his parents...you should tell them—”

“What?”

She heaves a sigh, and her shoulders slouch, like the entire weight of the world is on them. “The hospital’s taking Embry’s case to the judge. They want permission to...pull the plug, to let him die.”

My eyes grow wide. “No, they can’t,”

“They can. And they will. I’m sorry.”

As we leave the hospital, the sun is at its hottest, but for once I don’t need the air-conditioning. I have Embry. We're mostly silent as we make our way to the address on the slip of paper, folded neatly in my pocket. The anticipation is evident, and neither one of us can form words. I think we're both wondering what's going to happen, both waiting for some big reveal that will make everything better.

Only it doesn't. Not yet, at least. 

After driving to the address on the slip of paper the nurse gave me, we realize a few things. It isn't a house, but a storage facility, as the nurse said. And there are extra numbers attached to the address. We assume they are for a unit. Of course both of us are curious. However, Embry thinks it best to come back after hours, so we can snoop around. I agree. We’ll come back tonight.

After having lunch, I was able to spend some much needed time with Mom. We finally made it to the hardware store, and I could tell she was happy, in her element amongst the paint chips, drapery swatches and lighting accessories. I even hinted maybe Willard Grove could use an Interior Design Firm. My sneaky way to get her mind focused on something she loved. Together we laughed, and I don’t think that’s happened in months. We took turns closing our eyes and selecting a paint chip at random, swearing whatever color it was that’s what we’d buy. Of course, I couldn’t bring myself to paint my room a color called Babies Bottom, and Mom frowned with displeasure when she selected Lemon Meringue. So, we closed our eyes, and laughing, picked again and again. We made fun of each other’s color until we were able to finally come to an agreement. I think she really took that interior decorating comment to heart, and sees it could actually be a possibility.

Either way, during those few hours, the two of us climbed mountains, pushing aside oceans, and we, for once, seemed truly like mother and daughter. And I loved every minute of it until she begged me to get my nails done and my toes painted. I had to draw the line there. I still think that’s a waste of money, and I don’t find having my feet touched relaxing. Instead, pointing out the vintage store down the street, I promised a shopping date another day.