Chapter 21. Tessa
Tessa
We spend the night in one of the downstairs parlors, where dark maroon wallpaper laced with gold leaves has peeled off the walls to lie in shreds along the floor. Mouse droppings group in the corners beneath a creaky unlit chandelier.
You know, home sweet home.
It took a while to feel whole again, to lose that eerie feeling that’s part exhaustion, part numbness from straying away from our door for too long.
I curl up beside Reed on the threadbare sofa as all the sensations slowly return: our breath; his arm draped reassuringly over my shoulder; the feeling of being solid, of existing here, in whatever way that means now.
We don’t talk much; my mind is too full, a jumble of images of Carl, his disturbing memories and plans, and how helpless I feel to stop him.
As dawn blooms, chasing away the shadows, Reed shifts to face me.
He searches my eyes. I had assumed he was thinking about last night, too, and all that happened on Tilly’s street, and maybe he was.
But that doesn’t feel like what he’s thinking now.
His gaze dips to my lips and lingers there.
We haven’t kissed since our night on the stairs. We haven’t even talked about it.
“Should we head out to Tilly’s place now?” he asks.
“It’s barely sunrise—she’s probably still sleeping. I’m afraid if we go too early, we may run out of steam before we’re really needed.”
“That’s what I thought, too. So … how should we spend our time?” That damn dimple of his is back. If only he knew the power that dimple holds over me.
“How would you like to spend our time?” I try to sound casual.
“I have some ideas.”
A soft laugh escapes my lips. “I bet you do.”
He sweeps some stray hair away from my face, his thumb lingering.
My hands, with minds of their own, lace behind his neck, pulling him toward me.
We lean back against the couch as he brings his mouth to mine.
The kiss is gentle at first. It begins as a promise, our lips brushing past each other with questions asked and answered.
Is this okay? Yes. Would you like to do this forever? Yes. Do you like me like this? Oh yes.
It deepens, a promise kept. This time we’re less urgent than our night on the stairs, when we clung to each other through the storm. Maybe we’re surer of each other. Maybe we’re finding our rhythm. Maybe all the feelings behind it are deeper. Whatever the reason, it’s unequivocally better.
Because this time, it feels like home.
When we startle back to reality, I slip the phone from my pocket (long live dresses with pockets) to check the date and time. July 1, 8:15 a.m. I turn it around for Reed to see. “Tilly doesn’t leave until around nine forty for her mom’s shop.”
Reed switches the display over to the countdown timer. “Fifteen days and change left.”
I stand, straightening my dress, and pull my hair down to rebraid my buns.
“Today we find a workaround, some way to stop Carl besides walking through him. Even if Tilly doesn’t know it, she’s depending on us, and we can’t let her down.
” It feels wrong to be away from her for this long when I know she’s in trouble.
“Agreed. Today we formulate our plan. We’re good at solving problems. At least, for me, when it comes to BattleBots and calculus.
How hard can cracking the afterlife be?” Reed pushes off the couch to join me, watching as my fingers work through my long dark strands, weaving them together.
“You never wear your hair down. I like it.” He slips me a smile.
Will we ever talk about whatever this is between us?
Are we deciding not to put labels on it?
Is he my boyfriend now? Is that even possible as a ghost?
I almost laugh, imagining what Tilly would think.
She’d say I was out of my mind. Yeah, you know entitled, arrogant Reed Walker?
He’s kind of my dead boyfriend now, my ghost with benefits.
“Too bad I like it like this.” I shrug playfully as I secure my buns back in place.
Reed’s grin disappears as he glances behind me out the window. “Is that Hal?”
“What?” I spin around. Sure enough, crossing through the gate and making his way along the winding, mossy path toward the house is Hal—brown tweed suit, bowler hat, and all.
We race to the foyer, dissolving through the door to meet him on the porch.
“Hey, Hal!” Reed hollers. “Welcome to casa shithole. Don’t let the fancy exterior fool you. Do you want to come in?”
“Hey, kids.” He vanishes from his spot by the gazebo and reappears down the path in front of us. “Nice to see you two again.” He’s as polite as ever, but a heaviness hangs over him.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“Well … um … I know this is perhaps an unexpected request … It’s just …
since Jeb’s gone …” He removes his bowler hat, clutching it in his hands.
“See, my time is almost up. All day yesterday I tried to muster the strength to cross alone, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I don’t want to turn into a fade like Jeb, but when I stare at that gaping hole, this fear overtakes me and—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, hand shaking.
“This morning, I visited Bessie’s grave one last time to see if that would give me the strength to make the crossing, and then I thought of you two nearby, and well … ” he chokes out between sobs.
“Of course.” Reed jumps in without hesitation. “We’ll go with you.”
Relief washes over Hal’s features before he grimaces slightly. “You might have to push me through.” He must catch my shocked expression because he quickly follows up with, “If it comes to that, you have my complete permission. On my own, I freeze. And panic.”
I guess I know a thing or two about that.
I glance at Reed, torn. I want to help Hal, of course, but the idea of shoving anyone through their door is a bit horrifying, and more than that, I’m getting antsy to check on Tilly.
This morning’s make-out session already slowed us down, and I need to know that she made it home safely last night.
“Could we come by a little later today instead?” I ask Hal.
“The clock’s a-tickin’.” He shrugs helplessly. “I only have an hour left.”
Reed puts a hand on my shoulder. “Tilly doesn’t leave for work for another hour and a half. And Hal needs us.”
I know going with him is the right thing to do, so although every instinct in me screams otherwise, I force myself to say, “We’re here for you, Hal. Let me check on my friend quickly to know she’s all right, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Thank you.” Relief washes over his face. “Shall I wait for you out front?”
I nod.
“Then off we go.” With a deep breath, he vanishes.
Reed turns to me. “I’ll come with you first.”
“Okay,” I agree. “To Tilly’s place.”
I imagine Tilly’s house with the magnolia tree in full bloom on her lawn. In a blink, I’m there, with Reed standing beside me. Soft petals rain down around us.
I sigh a huge sigh of relief. Her dad’s Sanderson Construction van is still in the driveway, along with Tilly’s Honda. Looks like she made it home just fine after all. Thank God.
“Feel better?” Reed nudges my shoulder.
“Definitely.” I was worried all night. It’s a massive weight off my chest to know she made it back okay.
“Good, because there’s a sweet old man who is probably hyperventilating outside his home right now staring at that timer of his.”
My eyes drift up to Tilly’s room.
“Tessa.” Reed sighs, following my gaze to her bedroom window. “He can’t follow her twenty-four seven. And her family is here. Carl likes to work in the shadows. He’s not coming for her while her parents are home.” He reaches out his hand, cupping my face. “You ready?”
“We help Hal and then we come right back here.”
“Yes. We’ll come straight back,” he promises, then before I know it, he vanishes, the trace of his touch still lingering on my cheek.
I take a deep breath and within moments I’ve joined them at Hal’s red front door with the golden knocker. The stately trees along the block rustle lightly in a gentle breeze.
“Thanks again for coming.” Hal seems relieved we didn’t take too long. “Now, in case you were wondering, no one’s home. My daughter’s at work and the twins are in day care. It’s a bit of a whirlwind inside, but then again, I’ve always loved a messy, lived-in house.”
We pass through the front door to find Lego pieces scattered across the floor, a ride-on dump truck tipped over, and cereal bowls on the counter, their contents full of mush from the milk left behind.
“Lizzie has a lot going on,” Hal says, as if the place needs excusing.
I lived with a single parent. I know how much there is to do because, while my dad tried to pick up what scraps of employment he could, I was usually the one doing the chores.
A deep ache courses through me at the memory.
I hope he’s okay without me. I hope the dishes aren’t piling up too much and his blood pressure medicine doesn’t lie forgotten in the bathroom cabinet without my constant nagging reminders to take his pills.
“You remember the way?” Hal gestures for us to follow him down the hall and through the office door.
If the rest of the house is chaos, this is a small corner of order, save the dust building up on the neglected shelves and desk.
It’s as if, after Hal’s passing, his daughter came in once to clean it and never set foot inside again.
I can’t say I blame her. Can the living sense the strange portal lurking down the hall?
Perhaps she stays away from the memories here, but also the ominous sense that something mysterious and supernatural resides behind these walls.
Hal’s doorway to the beyond is still outlined in light, but as the countdown clock nears its final moments, a deep hum buzzes in the background. It’s a note barely detectible by the human ear. I feel it more than hear it—the entire room resonating with possibility and purpose.