Remembrance: A Mediator Novel by Meg Cabot

Author:Meg Cabot [Cabot, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062379030
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-02-01T13:00:00+00:00

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I had more trouble than ever falling asleep that night.

It was only partly because Debbie had gotten rid of the bed in the guest room—along with all of Brad’s wrestling awards, which she’d relegated to the garage—so she could convert it into her “crafting center.”

So I had to share a bed down the hall with Mopsy, while Jesse was banished to the hard, lumpy couch in the living room (which didn’t have a door, with or without a lock for privacy).

We could probably have gone back to our own beds to sleep, mine at my apartment, and Jesse’s at Snail Crossing, since it appeared there was no longer any danger to the girls. But I still had the “study” for my class to complete.

Even if we had, I still wouldn’t have avoided what Jesse asked me as we were walking back into the house after putting all the wine bottles into Brad and Debbie’s recycling bins:

“Susannah, what was it you were going to say to me before in the yard? Something you were worried was going to make me angry?”

I’d laughed. “Oh, I told you, it was nothing. An idea I had for the wedding, that’s all, but I changed my mind. You don’t want karaoke at the reception, right?”

“Karaoke?”

“See? I knew it. Fortunately the deposit’s refundable.”

“Fine. I don’t believe you, but fine. By the way, who sent those flowers that I saw on your desk when I stopped by your office this afternoon?”

“Oh, no one,” I’d said. “Just a grateful parent.”

I don’t know how I’d managed the airy tone, especially when it was clear he’d been reading my mind again.

He knew. He knew perfectly well who the flowers were from, and maybe even what I’d been about to tell him in the yard. Perhaps I’d planted the image in his head, worrying so much about Paul, stirred by the blossoms Lucia had strewn across the floor of her new playmates’ playhouse, the faces of their dolls.

Dead flowers from a dead girl. Live flowers from a live man . . . who wouldn’t stop haunting me over a former ghost.

He didn’t say anything more about it, however, and his kiss good night when we parted ways for bed, me for the second floor, him for the first, was as warm as ever.

That wasn’t what kept me awake.

I don’t think it was the text message Jake sent me, either, saying that he was going to “escort” Gina back to the Crossing from her shift at the Happy Medium. He said he was worried that the “creeper” back at my apartment building might have figured out where she worked. He wanted to make sure she got home safely.

Or the text I got from Gina letting me know that she and Jake had decided to go out to eat after her shift and she hoped I didn’t think this was going to “make things weird” between us.

Also, she knew there wasn’t a “creeper,” it was just another of my “ghost things” (a carnival psychic had spilled the beans in front of Gina about my “gift” when we’d been kids).

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