“Haven’t had much of a chance to look, since I’ve been trying to do a week’s worth of sales calls in three days.”
“Well, I haven’t found anything that would help you either,” she admitted. “And I have kept an eye out as I read the letters.”
“Thanks.” He entered the sitting room, where, sure enough, a lavender-tinted envelope graced the center of the ornate tea service. “Guess it’s time to see if I get one ghost, or two.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” Nanette scooped up a box of letters from a side chair in the sitting room, then turned to go. “Let me know about your new ghost, and let me know if Celeste shows too.”
“I will.” Wincing at the little girl’s song, now escalating to a near fever pitch, Dax sat on the red settee and reached for the letter, eager to get started on his assignment and to, hopefully, see Celeste again.
The door snapped shut with Nanette’s departure, and Dax opened the envelope. The little girl’s song immediately ceased, and he sensed that overwhelming peaceful presence, the sign that a ghost knew he was going to take care of her needs.
As usual, the letter smelled of magnolias and reminded him of Adeline Vicknair, the way her scent had always cloaked him when she hugged him, and how she used to sit on the front porch of the plantation when the big trees lining the driveway were covered in her favorite blooms.
He withdrew the three sheets of paper composing his assignment and quickly read the top one, his grandmother’s letter on her trademark scalloped stationery.
Dax scanned the information and learned that the young girl’s name was Angelle Millet and that the reason for death was cancer. That explained Dax hearing her for several days. More than likely, she had been on the brink of death, and her spirit was already trying to soar, even before the body had stopped breathing.
Requirement for Passage-Attending her funeral, checking on her parents, and viewing her elementary school’s fall program being performed in her honor.
Dax nodded and smiled. No wonder she had been singing about the season; she was practicing the songs for the show.
He quickly scanned the sheet of rules and read the final sheet, the official document directing his grandmother to assign Angelle to one of her grandchildren.
He picked up the pages and returned them to the envelope, placed it back on the tea service and watched it disappear. Then he turned, scanned the room and waited for Angelle to appear with a golden-haired beauty by her side.
“Hi,” a crystal-clear voice said from behind him.
Dax shifted in the seat and saw a beautiful little girl, her dark skin accented by the traditional spirit glow, and her eyes alight with excitement. She looked to be around ten years old, with full cheeks, a wide smile and several long braids tipped in vibrant-colored bows.
“Look, I’ve got my weight back,” she said, grinning. “And my hair!” She ran a hand down one of the braids and smiled. “Mama said I’d have long hair again, when I went to heaven. She was right, even if I haven’t crossed the whole way yet. And Ms. Adeline said I’ll get to see Mama again, and Daddy, and the kids at school. I’ll even get to watch the play, right?”
“Yes, you will,” Dax said, glad he could grant her request and trying his best to hide his own sadness at seeing her here, in this room, alone.
She nodded. “They promised me that, no matter what, they’d go to the fall program. We knew I wasn’t going to make it until then-the doctors said so-but I wanted them to go. My friends are going to sing my song.”
“Your song?” he asked.
“Yep.” She bobbed her head. “I wrote it while I was in the hospital watching the leaves fall outside my window. It’s a pretty song, I think.”
Dax smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“You’ve heard it?” she asked, her surprise evident. “How?”
“I’ve heard you singing it for the past few days,” he said, “while I waited for you to come see me. And you’re right, it’s a very pretty song.”
“So, what do I do? I can see Mama and Daddy getting ready to tell me goodbye.” She shifted her weight to one foot and peered past Dax, and he knew she was checking on her folks.
“Think of them, and of how much you want to see them, and you’ll go straight to them,” he explained.
“And I can stay with them for the next few days, right? Until my school program on Saturday, so I can watch all of my friends sing my song, right?”
“Yes, you can,” he said. “And if you need me, for anything at all, just think of me, and I’ll know your thoughts. If you need me to come to you, then all you need to do is think of that, and I’ll get there.”
“You’ll come hear me sing too, won’t you? It’s at Norco Elementary. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, I do,” Dax said. “It isn’t that far from here.”
“So you’ll come? The program is Saturday night, two days away. You’ll get to hear my song again if you come.”
“Well, then, I wouldn’t miss it.”
Angelle smiled broadly. “Oh, I almost forgot. Ms. Adeline said to tell you that-” She squished her nose as she apparently fought to remember something. “I knew I’d forget the name.”
“Was it Celeste?” Dax asked. Please.
“Yes, that’s it! Celeste. Ms. Adeline said to tell you that she was sorry, Celeste couldn’t come back right now, but that she may be able to come for my program to hear me sing.” She smiled brightly.
Dax sat down on the settee and swallowed thickly. She couldn’t make it through. Why not? What kept her over there? And away from him? “Did she say why Celeste couldn’t come now?”
The little girl shook her head, and her long braids swayed with the motion. “No, but I think she was just too tired. She looked very tired.”
Leaning forward, Dax stared into her glimmering black eyes. “You saw her? You saw Celeste?”
Angelle nodded. “Yes, she was there, in the middle part, before I met Ms. Adeline. She’s got beautiful long hair, doesn’t she? And it’s so blond that it nearly looks like gold. I really like the way it curls.”
“Did she say anything to you?” he asked. “Celeste? Did she know you were coming here, and did she say anything to you? Or say anything at all that you could tell me?” Something that would help him know how to help her?
“I only remember her saying one thing, but I didn’t know what it meant.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘I need him,’ and that was it. Just that she needed somebody. But Ms. Adeline told her that she was still too weak, and she needed to get stronger.”
“Did she say how long? How long until she’d be strong enough?” Dax asked.
“She said it’d be a few more days this time, and that made Celeste sad. I felt sorry for her because she really wanted to come with me. Maybe I could have helped her see whoever she needed to see, huh? Do you know who it is?”
Dax felt sick. “Yes, I think I do.”
“Oh, look, there’s my little sister with Mama and Daddy,” she said, turning her attention back to what was happening at her home. “I’m going to them now. Thank you for helping me, and I’ll see you at the show, right?”
“Yes, I’ll see you at the show.”
Dax watched her take a step toward the direction of her parents, then disappear. Then he let his head rest against the back of the settee in frustration while he looked at the ceiling and pondered why Celeste was so weak, and why no one, especially Adeline Vicknair, was able to help her through.
He swung out his arm and backhanded the tea service across the room. The pitcher clanged loudly as it pinged across the hardwood floor, as did the cups and the tray.
Placing his hands against his forehead, he scrubbed them down his face and embraced the aching throb overpowering his temples. It hurt like hell, and right now, it suited him fine.
He sat there in the stillness with his head cradled in his hands and realized that life really did suck. Then he heard a soft thunk on the table, then another, and another, and he moved his hands away and opened his eyes.