“Well, no matter what you do, I know that your mom is very proud of you,” Marie said. “You’ve brought a lot of joy into her life.”
Dylan nodded, struggling to find her voice. “Thanks.”
Both Janet and Marie worked with her mother at the runaway center in Brooklyn. Nancy, the other member of their travel group, had been Sharon’s best friend since high school. All three of the women had become like extended family to Dylan in the past few months. Three extra pairs of comforting arms, which she was really going to need if she ever lost her mom.
In her heart, Dylan knew it was more a matter of when than if.
For so long, it had been just the two of them. Her father had been absent since Dylan was a kid, not that he’d been much of a father when he was present. Her two older brothers were gone too, one of them dead in a car accident, the other having cut all family ties when he joined the service years ago. Dylan and her mom had been left to pick up the pieces, and so they had, each there to lift the other one up when she was down, or to celebrate even the smallest triumphs.
Dylan couldn’t bear to think of how empty her life would be without her mom.
Nancy came up and gave Dylan a warm, if sad, smile. “It means the world to Sharon that you would experience the trip for her. You’re living it for her, you know?”
“I know. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
Dylan hadn’t told her travel companions—or her mother—that taking off for two weeks on such short notice was probably going to cost her her job. Part of her didn’t really care. She hated working for the cut-rate tabloid anyway. She’d attempted to sell her boss on the idea that she was sure to return from Europe with some decent material—maybe a Bohemian Bigfoot story, or a Dracula sighting out of Romania.
But selling bullshit to a guy who peddled it for a living was no easy task. Her boss had been pretty clear about his expectations: if Dylan left on this trip, she’d better come back with something big, or she didn’t need to come back at all.
“Whooee, it’s hot up here,” Janet said, sweeping her baseball cap off her short silver curls and running her palm over her brow. “Am I the only wimp in this crowd, or would anyone else like to rest for a little bit?”
“I could use a break,” Nancy agreed.
She shrugged off her backpack and set it down on the ground beneath a tall pine tree. Marie joined them, moving off the path and taking a long pull from her water bottle.
Dylan wasn’t the least bit tired. She wanted to keep moving. The most impressive climbs and rock formations were still ahead of them. They had only scheduled one day for this part of the trip, and Dylan wanted to cover as much ground as she could.
And then there was the matter of the beautiful dead woman who now stood ahead of them on the path. She stared at Dylan, her energy fading in and out of visible form.
See me.
Dylan glanced away. Janet, Marie, and Nancy were seated on the ground, nibbling on protein bars and trail mix.
“Want some?” Janet asked, holding out a plastic zipper bag of dried fruit, nuts, and seeds.
Dylan shook her head. “I’m too antsy to rest or eat right now. If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to take a quick look around on my own while you all hang out here. I’ll come right back.”
“Sure, honey. Your legs are younger than ours after all. Just be careful.”
“I will. Be back soon.”
Dylan avoided the spot where the dead woman’s image flickered up ahead. Instead, she cut off the established trail and onto the densely wooded hillside. She walked for a few minutes, simply enjoying the tranquility of the place. There was an ancient, wildly mysterious quality to the jutting peaks of sandstone and basalt. Dylan paused to take pictures, hoping she could capture some of the beauty for her mother to enjoy.
Hear me.
At first Dylan didn’t see the woman, only heard the broken-static sound of her spectral voice. But then, a flash of white caught her eye. She was farther up the incline, standing on a ridge of stone halfway up one of the steep crags.
Follow me.
“Bad idea,” Dylan murmured, eyeing the tricky slope. The grade was fierce, the path uncertain at best. And even though the view from up there was probably spectacular, she really had no desire to join her ghostly new friend on the Other Side.
Please…help him.
Help him?
“Help who?” she asked, knowing the spirit couldn’t hear her.
They never could. Communication with her kind was always a one-way street. They simply appeared when they wished, and said what they wished—if they spoke at all. Then, when it became too hard for them to hold their visible form, they just faded away.