That had gone on for nearly a decade before they got the word that he’d died of a massive heart attack.
They’d returned home to the Chicago area and reconnected with the few relatives on her mom’s side that remained. Great-uncle Saul had been just about the only one left. But Chicago hadn’t really seemed like home. No place did.
Maybe that was the result of a transient lifestyle. Sierra had spent almost all her life moving every six months or so. The longest they’d ever stayed in one place was a year.
Perhaps that’s why Sierra’s mom had never worried about Sierra’s “invisible friends.” Even when she realized that Sierra was talking to ghosts, she hadn’t worried. “It’s your Irish heritage,” she’d proudly tell Sierra. “My grandmother had the sight as well. She saw the future. You see ghosts. You come by it honestly.”
Sierra saw her first ghost at her seventh birthday party. Only Sierra and her mom were present until a little girl in pigtails showed up. She was in the shadows at first but came forward when Sierra held her hand out.
Her name was Bonita and she wanted Sierra to tell her mom, who lived in the apartment across the hall, that it wasn’t her fault that Bonita had drowned in the apartment-complex pool.
When they were alone, Sierra had tried telling Bonita that she didn’t think an adult would appreciate the message. But Bonita was persistent. So two days later, Sierra had screwed up her courage and knocked on the neighbor’s door.
“Bonita wants me to tell you not to feel bad. It wasn’t your fault,” Sierra said in a rush.
The woman reached out as if she were going to slap Sierra.
Bonita quickly said, “Tell her it wasn’t our dog Tito’s fault either.”
Sierra repeated Bonita’s words in a rush.
“It was an accident,” Bonita said. “I love you, Momma, and Tito too.”
Once again, Sierra said the words.
Bonita’s mother started to cry. Sierra could still remember feeling guilty that she’d made the woman so unhappy. She turned to Bonita, who was looking at a bright light at the end of the apartment hallway. “Tell her I hid her ring in the purple vase.” Bonita waved and then disappeared into the light.
Sierra had repeated the message about the ring before she ran back to her own apartment and hid under the covers. The white light hadn’t frightened her. She sensed it represented something good, not bad. But Bonita’s mother had scared her.
A few minutes later, Sierra’s mom knocked on the door. “The strangest thing just happened. The woman across the hallway wanted me to thank you. She wouldn’t say why.”
Bonita’s mom moved shortly after that.
Later, Sierra had asked her mom if she’d ever seen ghosts. Her mom had replied that she was too busy for such things. Sierra suspected it was more likely that her mother already felt haunted by the memories of the terror and pain Sierra’s father had inflicted on her. She hadn’t wanted anything or anyone else haunting her.
Sierra lost track of how many ghosts she’d seen since then. There weren’t hundreds but there had been a number. Sometimes their message was simple, sometimes it was more complicated, sometimes there was no message and they were just confused. But they always moved on once Sierra dealt with them. But their memory remained with Sierra, which wasn’t always a good thing.
At least Sierra’s mom was in a better place now. A few years ago her mom had met Paul James, who treasured her. The two of them were living in New Zealand at the moment, where Paul was on a yearlong teaching sabbatical.
Her mom had been hesitant to leave her but Sierra had convinced her to go. Paul was an incredibly giving soul and Sierra could see the goodness in him. Trusting someone didn’t happen often for Sierra, and it hadn’t happened overnight but over the course of several years with Paul. He was one of the few good guys.
Normally Sierra’s mom would frequently Skype with her from New Zealand, but for the month of February they were in an area with few Wi-Fi or cell phone connections.
Her mom had been nervous about Sierra moving into the house in Chicago by herself but Sierra had convinced her that she’d be fine. It was hardly her first move, even though her mom had helped with the others.
The bottom line was that Sierra had this moving thing down pat. It was the “staying” part that she wanted to work on now.
Given Sierra’s background and the fact that she saw dead people, her romantic relationships tended to be few and short-lived. The longest had been her most recent. She and Steve had been together almost seven months when she’d decided they were better off as friends than as lovers. Steve had agreed. So the move to Chicago had come at a good time for Sierra, allowing her to move on.