Chapter 14
Jason took a long but still reasonable amount of time to prepare to leave. Dell and Cole filled it with researching what they
could about Cole’s life. They didn’t have Robbie’s wall of hacker computers, but Jason let Dell borrow his laptop. With it,
they found Cole’s alma mater, his archived faculty profile, a private social media account with a hundred or so followers,
which Dell didn’t find surprising. Cole didn’t seem like the type to chronical his life online. Even if they could have gotten
into it, it would have been inactive for more than a year. What little evidence they had helped them form a cover story for
why Jason and Robbie were going to show up on his parents’ front step.
When Jason finally appeared, fresh-faced and dressed like he was about to go meet someone’s parents—a neat button-down and
jeans—Dell eagerly popped up from the couch where she’d been sitting with Cole.
“Ready?” she asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” Jason said with a shrug.
He poured more coffee into a to-go tumbler and snapped on the lid.
“You owe me big time after all this, D. Making me think you were dead, convincing the hospital staff you weren’t actually dead, and now pretending I’m someone’s long-lost friend showing up to mourn their death over a year later. A lot of death going on.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But I’ll do the same for you, should the situation ever arise.”
He snorted. “Let’s hope I never need this favor returned. Other favors though . . .” He grabbed his sunglasses off the counter
with a grin and slid them on.
“Anything for you, Jay,” Dell said, and she meant it, despite the mischievous note in his voice.
The drive across the bay to Berkeley wasn’t bad on a Sunday. Jason drove, Dell sat in front, and Cole was buckled into the
back seat even though the seat belt served no purpose. They’d discussed their cover story on the drive, and by the time they
were walking the front path to a stone Craftsman with sage-green trim, Dell’s nerves had knotted themselves into a bundle.
The coffee at Jason’s hadn’t helped.
“Okay, so where did we go to grad school?” Jason whispered.
“Stanford,” Dell whispered back, in Robbie’s voice. “Try to avoid the specifics, but we can at least follow their lead.”
Jason nodded, although Dell could tell he was nervous too. “Follow their lead, got it. And Robbie is my . . . ?”
“Grad student,” Dell said. “You’ve brought me along because I was inspired by Dr. Lewis’s work, and when you offered to set up a meeting, you were surprised and saddened to learn he’d passed away. You and Cole weren’t really friends back then, but acquaintances in the same PhD cohort.”
Jason let out a big breath. “Bit of a stretch for me, but I guess I can be Dr. Marshall for an hour if it will bring you back
from the dead.”
“Here’s hoping,” Dell said, and climbed the short concrete staircase to the front porch. A potted plant and a pair of cushioned
chairs sat off to the left, with the door to the right.
Cole stood close behind Dell. She could feel him there, vibrating with nerves and excitement, same as her. The energy coming
off him held a bittersweet sadness too. As if he knew he couldn’t actually get close to the people he was about to meet, but
he still longed to meet them all the same.
She held out Robbie’s hand in a way that let Cole slip his into it without looking like Robbie was awkwardly holding the air.
“Everything will be fine,” she assured him in a whisper. Cole squeezed her hand back.
They’d talked about Cole using Robbie’s body to see his parents, but he wasn’t ready to attempt it. In truth, he wasn’t even
sure he could do it, he’d confessed to Dell. They’d decided to leave it to her both because she was a pro by now, and so that
Cole could observe his parents without having to worry about slipping up while he was supposed to be dead.
Dell let Jason ring the doorbell, and all three of them collectively jumped at the dog bark that instantly responded. The
patter of paws preceded a woman’s voice inside the house.
“Chaucer, sit!”
Dell turned to make knowing eyes at Cole, recalling what she’d said in jest about him naming his childhood stuffed animals
after famous authors. Cole gave her a small shrug.
The sound of excited paws and barking only grew louder when the front door opened. A woman with gray hair pulled into a bun tried and failed to control the furry ball of golden retriever that came barreling out.
“Chaucer, no!” she called. “I am so sorry,” she apologized in a fluster. She stepped onto the porch and tried to reach for
the dog’s collar. He wasn’t making a run for it but instead beelining for Cole like he could see him standing there. He sniffed
the air and waggled and nearly peed himself with excitement, and only Dell could fully see what was going on.
Cole sunk to a knee to welcome him. The dog licked his face and hands and all but tackled him flat onto his back.
“I have no idea what has gotten into him. I am so sorry,” Mrs. Lewis said. “Chaucer, inside!” She snapped her fingers and
gave a little whistle.
Dell stepped to the side to intervene and at least try to make it look like the dog was greeting her and not who she was positive was his original owner. “What a friendly boy!” she sang in Robbie’s voice.
“Yes, he won’t hurt anyone, don’t worry. This is just the most animated I’ve seen him in ages. He was our son’s dog, and ever
since he passed, he’s been a little moody. Chaucer, come here, boy!” She reached for his collar again and got a hand on it.
Chaucer whined in protest, but Cole aided the situation by lifting himself off his butt and crawling toward the doorway. The
smile on his face told Dell all she needed to know about his feelings toward dogs.
“I am so sorry about all that,” Mrs. Lewis said, having no idea she was standing mere inches from her son’s ghost on all fours.
“He can see me!” Cole said with unbounded joy. “This is incredible. Hiya, boy.”
Dell watched Chaucer continue to lick his face and wag his whole body. It misted her eyes with tears. Thankfully, Mrs. Lewis
was too distracted by her fluster to notice.
“How can I help you?” she said, and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
Jason stepped forward, having moved out of the way of the commotion. “Hi, Mrs. Lewis? My name is Jason, and this is Robbie.
We are so sorry to hear about your son’s passing. That’s why we are here, actually.”
Mrs. Lewis brushed her hands together and then set them on her hips, taking on a slightly defensive pose. “Who are you?”
“I went to grad school with Cole,” Jason said, and pressed a hand to his chest. “We were in the same program. And this is
Robbie—Robert—my grad student. He came across some of Cole’s work the other day, and I told him we were old acquaintances
and could introduce him. And then when I went to look up his contact information, I found out he’d passed last year. I am
so sorry for your loss. I wish I would have been there at the memorial service, but we’d fallen out of touch over the years,
and I didn’t hear the news.”
Dell painted Robbie’s face with sympathy, which wasn’t very hard. It was a good cover story, and Jason was selling it like
an actor on the silver screen.
Mrs. Lewis’s face softened; her shoulders loosened. She removed her hands from her hips. “Thank you for your sympathy. I am
always happy to meet anyone who knew Cole.”
“He was a great guy,” Jason said. “I remember him being an amazing teacher, mentor, and friend. We wanted to stop by and pay
our condolences.”
“Sorry for your loss,” Dell said. “I really wish I could have had the chance to meet him.”
Mrs. Lewis considered for half a beat. Her face split into a soft smile. “Well, you came all this way; why don’t you come
in for some tea and talk?”
“We would love that, if it’s not an imposition,” Jason said.
Dell nodded along.
Cole was still on the floor with Chaucer, who was now sitting still, aside from his tail swishing back and forth, and enjoying
having his head petted.
“Not at all,” Mrs. Lewis said. “My husband is out back watering his tomatoes, but he’ll come in. David!” she called down the
hall. “There are friends of Cole’s here!”
Dell let Jason lead the way and lingered back under the guise of petting the dog but really using it as excuse to talk to
Cole. “Do you remember him? Clearly, he remembers you,” she said with a smile, and scrubbed Chaucer’s ears. “And clearly I
was right about you naming beloved things after literary heroes.”
Cole was still sitting on the floor, Chaucer between his legs and nuzzling his neck. “I do remember him! I remember this whole house. I remember my parents. Same as when I saw you for the first time, I felt a pull.
That’s a good boy. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” His voice rose to an adorable pitch. “Do you think he can really see me?
Or is it more of a sense thing?”
“Does it matter?” Dell said with a smile. “He’s just happy to have you back.”
“And I’m happy to have him,” Cole cooed, and scrubbed his ears again.
“Clearly. You must be feeling something big to be able to pet him.”
A hiss from around the corner caught their attention.
“Psst, Dell—I mean Robbie!” Jason shout-whispered. “Care to join us?” He made wide eyes and jerked his head toward wherever Mrs.
Lewis had gone.
“Coming!” Dell said with an apologetic grimace. “You’d better come too, or everyone will wonder why Chaucer won’t leave the
entryway,” she added to Cole.
“Of course I’m coming,” he said, and pushed himself to stand. “Meeting my parents is the whole reason we’re here. I just didn’t
know I’d have a furry best friend here too.” He smiled at her and brushed his fingertips along Chaucer’s head.
The dog stuck to Cole like glue as they followed the hallway in the direction Jason and Mrs. Lewis had gone. Along the way,
they passed portraits hanging on the wall.
“That’s me!” Cole said, and pointed to one of him down on a knee in the grass of a shady park, one hand on Chaucer and smiling.