And instead of pondering over it like a pretentious Victorian ghost, I will channel my humansideandspeak with her—like a man.
But also like a man,I’ma coward, so I will make her come to me.
As I venture downstairs, I realizeI’mstill in my physical body.I removed my jacket after feeling warm in the library, but the chill of the house is much more intense on the first floor.Though Kennedyseems to bein her spirit form, Idecideto start a fire. Not only for myself,but ifshe decides toshiftI want this home to feel warm for her.I’venoticed her preference to be in her body, and I can understand how that might be comforting to her in the early days of her death.
The fireplace is still warm from the dying embers of last night’s fire, so all I have to do is give it a spark.My magic is weaker now thatI’ma ghost, butit’sstill there. Thesmall thingsI used to be able to do feel even smaller now, butI’mgrateful for them all the same.
A flame comes tolifeand I watch as it catches. Heat begins to reach my face, and I relax into its caress. Ican’thear Kennedy moving around upstairs, so I walk over to the banister and peer up to the second floor. The hallway appears still, but then I catch her flickering shadow.
“Can’t sleep?” I call up the stairs, hoping I haven’t startled her.
Kennedy’s face appears over the railing with a bemused expression. “What gave me away?”
I release a puff of air through my nose and gesture for her to join me. “Come down.”
Her eyes narrow, looking for an ulterior motive.After a few seconds, her brows relax. Her transparent figure floats down to where I stand, gliding over each step.
“Do you ever rest?”sheasks. I hear no hint of sarcasm, so she must be genuinely curious.
“I don’t need to,”I say, walking back toward thefire’swarmth, my shoes tapping against the hardwood.She follows me, listening intently. “I used to spend a lot of timeinthe void. It was my way of not coping with my circumstances. And when Iwasn’tdissociated, I was in my spirit body, so I never got tired.”
She looks down at her own ghostly figure. “I think I’m starting to understand the physics a lot better.” She chuckles lightly. “As long as I’m corporeal, I can do anything I could when I was human.”
“Most anything,” I correct her.
She frowns.
“Well, you can’t die again.”
My comment triggers a boisterous laugh to erupt deep from her belly, thus setting loose butterflies in mine. Her joy is contagious, and Idon’tever want to stopthat feeling.
“I guess that’s true,” she says, settling into a content smile.Shecrisscrossesher legs and hovers above thefloor in front of the fire, and Ijoinher. “SoI can touch things, change my clothes, and sleep when I’m tired,” she ponders aloud. “What about food? Will I get hungry?”
I shake my head. “Technically, no. But youcaneat.”
She raises both arms straight above her, fists clenched. “Yes! I am most definitely going back for those blueberry scones tomorrow!”
“You found scones?”
Kennedy’s shoulders shrink inward, her eyes avoiding mine. “So,I didn’t just meet the mayor today,” she admits sheepishly.“I sort of found my sister.” She tucks a lock of red hair behind her ear.
This is news.
“You mean, she’s here? In Shadow Hills?”
She nods. “She owns the bakery. I had no clue.”
“Wellthat’s…wonderful.” I swallow a lump of jealousy as it collects in my throat. Ishouldn’tfeel this way, but up until this point, I thought I would be Kennedy’sonlyguide. Her only friend.
If she has her sister, why would she need me?
“How was it?” I ask, forcefully moving past my own insecurities.
She tilts her head. “It was a relief, I think. Just knowingshe’shere. We lost touch for a while.” She grimaces, biting her plump bottom lip. “I can’t imagine what she must have thought…when she heard what happened to me.” Then she shrugs. “Whatever it was.”
Instinctively, I reach for her,but Ican’ttouch her. I shift my hand so our spirits can overlap.It’sthe closestI’vecome to physically touchinganother person in decades, andimmediatelyI feel that same tingle in my fingers that I feltasI took her hand in the void. The warmthI’mcoming toassociate withher floods my senses. It feels both natural and earthshattering all at once.
We both look down at where mytransparent palm rests on thecrook of her leg, and the words I know I need to say suddenly come to me. “Itdoesn’tmatter how you died. What matters is thatyou’rehere now.”
