Maybe This Time Read online

  Andie smiled at where she thought he was. “I’m thinking maybe you should, too.”

  With you?

  “No, I was thinking more of the next plane of existence for you. The kids and I are going to Columbus. It’s not the same thing.”

  I might like Columbus.

  Andie sat down. “I’m worried about you not going toward the light. I’m afraid you’re going to miss it.”

  It’s not a bus, Andie, it’s the afterlife.

  “Yes, but isn’t Somebody going to get pissed if you keep rejecting the invitation?”

  I don’t think so. Dennis sounded thoughtful. I think I was taken before my time, so I have some leeway. It’s not like it was a natural death.

  “Stop rationalizing, Dennis. I’m pretty sure death doesn’t have a no-fair clause.” If it had, May would have used it.

  I want to go to Columbus with Alice and Carter and you.

  “Dennis, be reasonable.”

  I’m dead. I don’t have to be reasonable. The fact of my continued existence is in itself unreasonable.

  “Okay. Let me think.” Really, it was pretty much a choice between Columbus and the afterlife. Unless . . . “How about this: Harold’s gone, so Isolde needs a spirit guide. If you’d . . . attach to her in some way, you could stay with her. She left already, but she said she’d keep in touch. Maybe—”

  I’m not sure about spending the rest of my life with Isolde.

  “The rest of your life is over,” Andie said. “And I don’t think she’d hold you captive. Harold was there willingly.”

  Harold ran like a rabbit the first chance he got.

  “Fine. You have any ideas on how we can pack you up and take you with us?”

  I’m tied to this couch.

  “Isolde says you aren’t. She said you’re using it as a security blanket.”

  And this is the woman you want me to spend eternity with.

  “She has a point. I don’t see any other ghosts tied to furniture.”

  Just lockets and pocket watches.

  “Which were portable,” Andie pointed out. “And also contained parts of their . . . bodies. You didn’t cut your nails on the couch, did you?”

  The silence stretched out.

  “Okay, fine, be snitty,” Andie said. “But I don’t think we can tie this thing to the top of Lydia’s Lexus.”

  “I’m packing up the bedroom next,” North said, coming in from the flagstoned yard. “Did you want that plaque over the bed, the ‘Always Kiss Me Good Night’ thing?”

  “God, no,” Andie said.

  “Good. What can’t you tie to the top of Lydia’s Lexus?”

  “What? Oh. This couch. Dennis won’t go toward the light, won’t go with Isolde, and won’t leave the couch.”

  “Uh huh,” North said, and went through the dining room into the kitchen.

  Andie looked back in the general direction of Dennis. “I keep forgetting he doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

  He never will. He’s too rational. He’s going to miss a lot that way.

  “Says the guy who didn’t believe in them when he was alive.”

  I’ve learned. I’ve grown. I’m a better person now.

  “Dennis, you’re not a person. And I am seriously worried about your afterlife. May told me that the longer a ghost hangs around, the less humanity it has. That’s why she went willingly. She didn’t want to turn into a monster.”

  That’s not going to happen to me.

  “Really. Why not?”

  I have no passion.

  That was so true that Andie felt suddenly sad for him, which was ridiculous because he was dead.

  The others turned because the reason they stayed was their passion. It was the tie holding them to this plane, so when everything else evaporated, that’s all that was left.

  “Uh huh,” Andie said, considering this. “So what’s tying you here?”

  Intellectual curiosity.

  “I see. So when your humanity burns away . . .”

  You’ll have a supernatural encyclopedia on your couch.

  “Oh, Dennis,” Andie said, laughing in spite of herself. “Look, we—”

  North came through on his way to the outside. “New Essex has a rental place with a van available. Southie and I will go get it. We’ll put Dennis and his couch in there. Southie came down in Kelly’s car, so he’ll drive my car back and I’ll take the van. If there’s anything else you want from here, now’s the time to mention it. We’ll stick that in the van, too.”

  “Uh, make sure you put the bolsters in, too, I think they’re part of the couch,” Andie said, stunned, and then North was gone. She turned back to Dennis. “Do you believe that? He got you a van.”

  No, he got you a van. He doesn’t believe in me, but he believes in you. And you need a van.

  “Damn,” Andie said. “You’re right.”

  I’m always right.

  “Fine.” Andie turned for the door and then stopped. “I’m really glad you’re coming with us. I think it would be better for you if you went on to the next plane or whatever, but selfishly, I’m glad we’re going to have you around.”

  Thank you, Dennis said, sounding touched.

  “But work on separating yourself from the couch, will you? It would make everything so much easier,” Andie said and went to look for Alice and Carter.

  Andie climbed the stairs and found Alice in her room, Rose Bunny under one arm, and her comforter under the other. There was more comforter than there was Alice, so Andie said, “I’ll carry that,” and Alice handed it over.

  “Your suitcase is in my car,” Andie told her. “And your box of toys. The rest of your stuff is in Grandma Flo’s car. Grandmother Lydia has Carter’s things. And Bad and Southie are putting Dennis and the couch in the rental van now. They’ve even got the bolsters, everything’s out there. We’re ready to go.” She waited for Alice to say something, but the little girl just looked around. “Are you ready to go, Alice?”

  Alice was quiet for a moment and then she nodded. Andie held out her hand and Alice took it, and they walked down the wide stone staircase for what Andie sincerely hoped was the last time ever.

  “Columbus will be better,” she told Alice quietly, not sure why she was keeping her voice low.

  “Will there be butterflies?” Alice said.

  “Yes,” Andie said. “In the spring, there’ll be butterflies, just like here. And a butterfly garden, just like here.” Except for the salvia.

  Alice nodded.

  When they went out the back door, Lydia was putting on her gloves by the driver’s side door. “Carter’s going to ride with North in the van,” she said to Andie.

  “Okay,” Andie said and opened the door to her Mustang. “Alice, are you ready to go?”

  Alice looked around again, as if she were listening for something, and then Carter got out of the van and came toward her. She lifted up her face as he came up to her. “It’s okay. Get in the car.”

  Don’t back out now, baby, Andie prayed, and Alice crawled into the front seat.

  “What’s wrong?” she said to Alice, and the little girl looked at her for a long minute and then shook her head.

  “You’re okay with us all leaving here,” Andie said.

  Alice nodded.

  “Then let’s go.”

  Andie waved to North who waved back and got in the driver’s seat of the van. Carter went around to the other side of the van and Andie heard the door slam. Southie came out of the house with a last box, put it in the back of the van, slammed the doors and then smacked the side, and North began to pull out onto the bridge.

  There’s something wrong, Andie thought. The kids were too quiet. Everything was too quiet. She looked around but there was nothing, no Miss J, no Peter, no May. They were gone. They really were.

  “I don’t get it,” she said, and Southie heard her and came over.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Something,” she said. “But I don’t know what.”