Chapter 18
On the ferry back to Mackinac, I took pictures of the bridge from several angles.
Then I was harassed by a bird, and before it flew off, I took a video to show Annabelle.
She liked it when I showed her videos on my phone.
She got quiet and contemplative when I scrolled through videos of places she read about in her books.
But cute animal videos were her favorite.
Before I left the library, Tanesha had given me her social media handles—several were on apps I’d never even heard of.
But she posted a video of us on TikTok and sent me the link.
The sound of the wind and the ferry’s engines was too loud for me to hear the video, but I watched us playing together and was amazed at how young I looked.
I shared the post with Brooke and put my phone away, turning my face to the sun.
I grabbed a hot dog at Windermere Point and decided to walk home via the perimeter path instead of taking a shortcut through the residential neighborhood.
Without realizing it, I walked past the particular curve in the rocks that I’d started thinking of as Annabelle’s cove.
It looked unremarkable in the daytime. I walked right by it initially but doubled back when I passed the familiar mile marker.
Standing at the spot where the road curved just enough to create a little cove, I watched people in kayaks and sailboats in the jewel-green waters of Lake Huron.
The afternoon was warm and the air was thick.
Gulls screamed overhead, and as I stood thinking, bikes whizzed by me on the carless road.
There were no ghosts in the water. Feeling lighter than I had in days, I removed my guitar from my sweaty back.
I’d done it. I found her. And I was going to try and bring her home.
I stepped off the path and set my phone against a rock, then started the video recorder.
It wouldn’t be a good recording at all—the soft susurrus of the lake in the background competed with my voice and the guitar.
But it would remind me of this moment, when I looked out on a giant lake and felt something just as big.
Something important and good. Something that made me feel like I could be a whole person, if I tried.
While the water lapped at the rocks and the wind caressed my face, I sang a song to the other side.
***
Annabelle was in her alcove in the cottage, holding a steaming cup of tea in both hands and balancing a book on her lap. She looked up and smiled brightly when I entered.
“Welcome back,” she said.
“Hey, Marley,” I said, suddenly unsure how to start this. Honest conversations and I had never been very well acquainted. “Can we talk? Maybe outside?”
“Of course.” She set her cup aside on the end table, which already held three mugs with varying levels of brown sludgy tea in them.
“Where’s Yasmin?” I put my guitar down in the front room. I was having a hard time looking at her.
“She’s with Nate, I believe.” Annabelle looped her fingers around the mug handles, carefully carrying them with her to the kitchen sink.
I followed Annabelle outside. But before I started my spiel, I texted Yasmin and asked her not to come back to the house for about an hour.
She texted back, “r u askin her?????”
Even though the answer was yes, I didn’t respond. I looked out at the garden, trying to summon the vision I’d had the other day. Happy people, string lights, a bonfire in the corner, someone playing music and everyone singing along.
I cleared my throat. “I found out what Agatha’s spell was supposed to do.”
It was only for a second, but a look of panic crossed Annabelle’s face. She had sat at the table, but I was too nervous to sit, so I paced in front of her.
“Oh?” She folded her hands in her lap and didn’t quite frown, but her usual smile didn’t appear. Annabelle crossed her ankles and sat up straight, the very picture of an English lady. She was mostly visible, but her edges blurred a little.
“I know it sounds crazy, but Agatha thought she could bring you back.”
Annabelle didn’t respond. Her face was a mask, not of indifference but intense concentration. For perhaps the first time since I met her, I had no idea what she was thinking or feeling.
“According to Agatha, there’s something special about the three of us.
Me, Yasmin, and Miranda. And the blood moon.
It’s coming up soon, and, supposedly, if we chant some things and burn candles or whatever, we can bring you back for as long as the blood moon lasts.
” I raked my hand through hair that was too short, realizing I didn’t know anything about the details of the ritual.
I still only half believed it would work, so I hadn’t bothered to know about the herbs we would need or if we’d draw a pentagram on the floor.
All that stuff was Yasmin’s domain. “Anyway, I’m not explaining this very well, but Agatha said—”
“Agatha said a great many things, dear,” Annabelle said gently.
“Yeah, okay. But even if it’s crazy ... you could come back!” I finally stopped pacing and faced her. I had no idea what my face was doing, but my heart was racing. As if instead of taking the ferry back to the island, I swam.
Slowly, Annabelle stood. Her face was still inscrutable. A slight breeze blew the curly strands of blond hair at her shoulder.
“You could come back,” I repeated. My arms ached with the lack of her. “Marley, we’re connected. Even if it’s not physical, exactly, there’s something between us, and we could—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear, but we’re not. We can’t be. I am not a part of this world. You are.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“Yes, it does!”
We were both shouting now, our voices taking on an edge of desperation.
Annabelle closed her eyes and bowed her head, almost as if she were praying, though I knew from her letters that her sense of faith was, like mine, tenuous at best. “No, Gibson. I told Agatha no, and I’m telling you the same.”
“So, you knew what Agatha was trying to do all along?”
We faced each other.
“Of course I knew!” There was a haughty note of scorn in her voice now. A mocking tone I’d never heard before. “But I didn’t want to come back! Why would I want to come back?”
I sputtered. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“For one day? What would happen to me after that? Would I die permanently? Or go back to being like this ?” She grabbed at me, sending cool shivers down my arms where her insubstantial hands clawed at my flesh.
Then, to prove her point, she walked right through me.
I had a moment of full-body revulsion. She did it without warning and without consent, making me step backward to try to get away from her. I grabbed at the railing behind me.
Annabelle retreated. She rounded her shoulders and looked down sadly, seeming to regret what she’d done.
“Why would I go back to the world of the living for one day? As it is, I can read in my nook and make myself cups of tea that I can smell but not taste. What I have is enough. I don’t want anything more. ”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong.”
She crossed her arms, but I didn’t back down. I stepped toward her, pushing my reluctant body in her direction, ignoring the fear that she’d try to push through me again.
“You wanted more,” I said. “I know you did because I read your letters. You wrote to the other side! To a future you couldn’t have! You wanted more from life and you never got it. But now you have the chance to live like you wanted to all those years ago.”
Annabelle’s eyes went wide, and for a moment, I remembered the apparition of her I’d seen on the cove. She’d been a true ghost, then, more spirit than human.
“You read my—”
“Yeah, Marley,” I said firmly. I hadn’t meant to tell her about my trip to the library, but I couldn’t take it back now.
Not if this was what convinced her to go through with the ritual.
“I found your letters and I read what you wrote. You were alone. Your husband was kind, but you didn’t love him.
And you never got to experience life, not really.
You didn’t get to have garden parties, or, or .
.. I don’t know, play Candy Crush and see the stupid gazebo.
” I ran a hand through my hair, again forgetting that it was too short for it to feel satisfying.
“I know it wasn’t there when you were alive, but you know what I mean!
You never got to live, Marley. Or ... Or love. And now you can.”
Silence fell between us, but instead of a smile lighting up her face, all she did was grimace and look away.
“And you know all about living, do you?”
“What?”
She turned to me, her expression hard. “You have no right to lecture me about life. Not four hours after you arrived here, you almost threw yours away. You know nothing, Gibson.” She spat the words at me now, and her edges flickered, like a failing projection or a hologram in a movie.
As she stepped toward me with her hands balled in fists, I felt another stab of fear. Her voice was dark, dripping with anger.
I’d learned not to be afraid of her almost immediately, but now I tensed. Although she couldn’t touch me, if she wanted to, Annabelle could cause me harm. There were plenty of rusty garden tools and other heavy objects lying around the house. I had to sleep, but she didn’t.
She stopped, inches from my face. “You can’t tell me about enjoying life or being with a person you love because you don’t love anyone. You keep yourself alone, terrified that someone might catch you having a feeling or getting close.”
I hadn’t realized tears were spilling down my face until one caught on the tip of my nose. I wiped it away and scrubbed my face, unable to believe how wrong everything had gone.
“No, Gibson, you have no right to ask me to do this. And I won’t.” She shook her head sadly and started to fade.
“Fine!” I yelled, a sudden flare of anger rising in my belly. “Seymour offered me two million dollars for this house, and I’m taking it. He’ll strip it and sell it to some politician to use as a summer house.”
I let my voice get low and nasty, savoring the taste of quiet rage. “I hope you’re happy smelling your tea and reading your books forever. See if I care.”
Annabelle took a shaky breath, then disappeared.