Inbetween

choosing sides, and this wasn’t the side I was ready to be on.

“It smells amazing in here,” Parker said, smiling. “Is someone baking bread? You never told me you cooked, Rachel.”

I snorted and chewed on a carrot from the salad. “That’s because she can’t.”

Mom gasped. “Emma!”

“What? You can’t.”

Parker chuckled. “Well, it smells like she’s a good cook.”

Mom finally gave in and laughed, too. “Emma’s the cook around here. She’s pretty amazing when she gets into a kitchen.”

Parker looked between us, then to the stove. “While this smells great, would you like to join us for dinner, Emma? I’m sure your mom wouldn’t mind.”

I forced myself to smile. “That’s okay. Thanks, though.”

He nodded. “Next time, then.”

Mom smiled and kissed him on the cheek. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to throw up because he was nice. And she was happy. And everything seemed perfect. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t ever going to be perfect again. Not without Dad. I leaned my head against the wall.

“Well, we’re off,” Mom said. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

I watched her sling her purse over her shoulder and take Parker’s hand. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

She stopped at the door and pointed at me. “No boys. And that includes Cash. If you let him over here, he’ll eat all the Halloween candy before those poor kids have a chance.”

I laughed. “I set it on the front porch. That’s probably going to happen regardless.”

I waved them both off, then watched Parker’s Honda zip out of the driveway through the kitchen window above the sink. I didn’t know how to feel. Relieved, maybe? At least he was nice. And he seemed to make Mom happy. As much as I hated this reality, that’s exactly what it was. Reality. And I had to find a way to deal with it.

I sighed and leaned on the sink, the smell of the food cooking making me a little hungry. The only sound in the house was the whir of air through the heating vents and the bubbling of spaghetti sauce on the stove. It was too much quiet. I needed something to drown out the thoughts. Music. I whirled around to grab the little kitchen radio Mom kept on the counter and froze.

All four of the kitchen chairs were stacked on top of one another, reaching all the way to the ceiling.

The oak legs were jammed into the backs of each chair, making an eerie tower. I hadn’t even heard them move. My muscles coiled into tight knots and I pressed myself against the cabinets. A cold burst of air swirled into my lungs with my next breath. I touched my throat and shook my head. Maeve. She was here. How did she do that so fast…

Something crashed against the wall in the living room and I grabbed on to the counter behind me.

She was here. And Finn wasn’t. My brain pulsed with fear, making everything fuzzy.

Think, Emma. Think!

Sage. The website had said burning sage would clear a home of unwanted spirits. It was sage, wasn’t it? I darted for the refrigerator and dug through the clear drawer we kept herbs in. Behind me, it sounded like something was sliding along the wall. I didn’t get a chance to turn around to see what it was. A picture frame crashed into the refrigerator next to my face and I screamed. My heart pounded out a deafening rhythm in my chest. I could feel it behind my ears as I fell to my knees and fumbled through the drawer. Rosemary, oregano, thyme…

Sage! I peeled open the package and pulled the little green leaves out. There wasn’t much left, and it wasn’t dry, but it would work. It had to work. If it didn’t…no. No thinking like that. I grabbed a lighter from the drawer by the sink, bundled the sage, and watched the blue and orange flame char the ends. They smoked softly, but when I pulled the flame away, nothing. It wouldn’t light.

The lights flickered and one of Mom’s decorative plates slammed into the microwave next to my head, breaking into a hundred paisley pieces.

“Damn it!” I hunched down and sparked the lighter again. “Please light,” I whispered through the panic thick in my throat.

Nothing. No flames. No smoke.

No, no, no! This could not be happening. “Light, damn you!” I screamed and rolled my thumb across the lighter switch. The metal burned my skin, but I ignored it, holding the flame under the leaves until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

The flame snaked around the leaves. They shriveled, turning black, and smoke finally swirled up into the air. Shaking, I waved it around, choking on the smell.

“Get out,” I said, holding the leaves up in the air. Please work. Please work. The pots on the stove started to vibrate and rattle. A wooden spoon I’d left in the spaghetti sauce started to spin circles in the pot. I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed, “Get the hell out of my house!”

Everything stopped.

Silent.

Still.

I opened my eyes and blinked at the spaghetti sauce boiling on the stove. The shattered pieces of plate lay scattered across the tile. The glass crunched under my shoes, and the fear in my chest started to drain. She was…gone. My fingers shook around the half-charred leaves in my fist.

“It worked,” I laughed, though it sounded more like a sob, and forced my fingers open. The leaves dropped onto the tile.

And then everything exploded.

Kitchen cabinets and drawers burst open. Silverware turned into shrapnel. Wine glasses burst like grenades around me. The pot of spaghetti sauce erupted like a volcano, and the loaf of bread I’d been baking shot out of the oven and slammed into the wall.

I dropped to the ground, slapping my hands over my ears, and scrambled into a corner. Across the room, cans started to fly out of the pantry. Above me, forks whistled through the air and jammed into the wall. I curled into a ball and wrapped my arms around my legs, pressing myself as close to the wall as I could get. I could feel her. She felt like ice, a prickling cold against my skin. I couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe. All of those incantations I’d read about…I could only remember one.

“This is a house of the living. Not a place for the dead,” I whispered into my knees. “You are not welcome here.” I could smell spaghetti sauce burning along with the sage, but I couldn’t make myself move. All I could do was say it over and over until my lips felt numb. “This is a house of the living.

Not a place for the dead. You are not welcome here.”

I didn’t stop until everything got quiet and the cold bled out of the room. Was she gone? I wasn’t waiting around to find out. My knees almost buckled as I pushed myself up and brushed the glass off my jeans. I couldn’t deal with this. Not now. Trying to suppress a sob, I ran down the hallway and into my room, then collapsed onto my bed. With the darkness of my pillow blocking the rest of it out, I could think.

The sage may not have worked, but the chant must have. Maeve wouldn’t have gone on her own.

Not unless she’d gotten what she’d wanted. I rolled over, mind reeling, and exhaled a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure who I was talking to. God maybe.

“Emma.” Finn started across the room and I sat up.

“Maeve…she was here,” I said, my voice hoarse from screaming.

“Are you okay?” He placed his open palms on either side of me and leaned in so close I could feel his warmth reaching out to my skin. “Emma, answer me.”

“I…I’m okay.” I stared at him and the fear in my chest eased. “She is gone, right? I can’t feel her anymore.”

He nodded.

“Why is she doing this?” My voice cracked.

“She’s angry at me,” he said softly. “It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

He looked sad and tortured and I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand any of this. I pushed myself up off the bed and made my way back into the kitchen. It looked like a disaster area. Like a freaking tornado had roared