Zoe sat down next to him on the bed. He suddenly looked younger to her.
“Yeah, you would have,” she said. “In the end.”
“I’d like to think so.” He turned back to her, took her hand, and smiled. “In case I haven’t told you, you’re a pretty good kid. A pain in the ass, but a pretty good kid.”
“Thanks.”
“It always cracks me up how much you’re like your mom.”
Zoe let go of his hand and went back to drying her hair. “Really? How?”
“No one could ever tell her anything either.” He followed Zoe’s lead and started drying his hair. “Not her parents. Not me. No one. She just did what she thought she had to do. A lot of the time she was right, too.”
“What about when she wasn’t?”
He shook his head and set the towel aside. “Craziness. Complete fucking madness. She got us into as much trouble as she got us out of.” He looked at Zoe. “Just like you.”
Zoe took their wet towels and draped them over the tiny sink in the kitchen area to dry. “I never thought we were much alike.”
“Believe me, kiddo. You are.”
“Sounds like a lot of trouble.”
“It sure as hell is,” he replied. “But you don’t mind. We admire people for the smart things they do, but we love them for their craziness, all the ridiculous little things they do.” He laughed a little to himself. “She used to let the air out of the cops’ tires outside the clubs. She’d pile up all the baby corns and hide them under her napkin whenever we had Chinese food. She’d scream like a banshee whenever she heard Barry Manilow.”
Zoe laughed, too. “Yeah, I’ve heard her do that.” She walked back over to where her father lay. “It’s just really hard to picture her like that.”
“Try it sometime. You’ll both be happier.” He looked at the window. “The rain’s letting up a little. You should be getting down to the beach for low tide.”
“Yeah, I know.” Zoe looked around her father’s dusty, dank little room. “I just need to know that you’re going to be all right.”
“I am. Really.” He sat up in bed and leaned against the wall. “I said before that I was mad that you’d come here. Well, I was wrong. You didn’t just save me tonight. I’d kind of given up hope down here, but blowing up Hecate’s feeding tonight, leaving Emmett in a world of hurt. . that was beautiful stuff.” He gave an exaggerated shrug. “And I’m not afraid of them anymore. And that’s because of you. Thanks.”
Zoe looked down at the floor. “You’re welcome.”
Her father swung his legs onto the floor and got up. “Come on. I’ll walk you downstairs.”
Her head snapped up and she looked at him. “You’re not coming with me?”
He shook his head slowly. “Look at me. I’m a mess, darlin’. I wouldn’t be able to help you and I sure as hell can’t run right now. I’m sorry.”
Zoe nodded and went to the window, looked down into the street. “I’m a little afraid of those dogs, Dad.”
He sat back down, his legs already shaking. “Yeah, I wondered about that. You don’t smell like us. That’s why the dogs notice you. It’s probably how Hecate plans to catch you.”
She turned and looked at him across the dim room. He looked more like a ghost than ever before. “What am I going to do?”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, and seemed to be thinking. Then, “Wait here.”
He went out into the hall and Zoe heard him walk down a few doors and knock. A door opened and there were voices. A minute later, her father came back and sat on the bed, leaving the door to his room open.
A few minutes after that, a young woman walked into the room holding a small cut-glass bottle full of an amber liquid. She handed the bottle to Zoe’s father and turned to Zoe. The pale evening light through the window illuminated her fine features and high cheekbones. Zoe couldn’t believe what she was looking at.
The woman crossed the room to Zoe with her hand extended. “Hello,” she said. “I’m-”
“Caroline Lee Somerville,” said Zoe, remembering her first experience with the Animagraph and the pregnant woman who Emmett had explained would die soon after that particular memory.
Caroline Lee Somerville’s eyebrows drew together, puzzled. “Have we met?”
“No,” said Zoe. She didn’t know if she should talk about having seen the woman’s life so intimately.
“Really? Was it a relation?”
Zoe shrugged. “Probably,” she said.
Caroline Lee Somerville nodded. “Of course,” she said, and turned to Zoe’s father. “You were right when you said that she was a lovely girl,” she said. Then added in a stage whisper, “But she’s not quite as good a liar as she supposes she is.”
Zoe’s father smiled. “Usually she’s much better at it, but she’s had a long day.” He turned to Zoe, still grinning. “Come here,” he told her.
Zoe went over to them a little reluctantly, not sure if she was in trouble or if this was “Adult Humor,” as Julie used to call it. The kind of jokes that no one under thirty ever found funny.
“Remember when you got here and I told you that some of the spirits liked and used things from their lives? They read newspapers and eat food at the restaurants?”
“I know about them,” she said.
“Caroline here is like me: she doesn’t eat or drink, but she does have a vice.”
“I still love perfume,” said Caroline. “I used to wait each season for the new scents to arrive by ship from Paris.”
“Caroline has agreed to let you use this perfume. It should help you get past the dogs. Or anyone else, really.” He handed Zoe the bottle.
She pulled out the glass stopper and sniffed. “I can’t smell anything.”
Caroline gave a silent chuckle. “And why should you? This is a folly for the dead. Something to make a ghost feel a bit less like a ghost.”
Zoe held the bottle to her chest. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure,” said Mrs. Somerville graciously. “Go back to the world. Be happy. Be sad. Be whatever you want to be. Just be.”
Zoe’s father took the bottle from her hands and said, “Put on my coat.” Zoe did as he said. Her father came over and splashed perfume on the coat and her head. A little trickled down into her eye. She expected it to burn, but it felt like water. She wiped her eye with her finger.
“Is that it?” she asked.
“That’s it,” her father said. He handed Zoe the rest of the bottle. “Keep it with you. If anyone notices you, just put on more.”
“Thanks.”
Caroline took a roll of gauze from the pocket of her floor-length skirt.
“Now, your father told me that you have a bad ankle, so take off that filthy shoe and let me see it. My brothers were athletes one and all. I know all about injured joints.”
Her father brought the chair from the window and held it out for her. She sat and pushed her sneaker off with the toe of the other one. Caroline took her foot in her hands and moved it up and down and around. Zoe winced. Caroline nodded.
“Lucky you, I don’t think anything’s broken. It’s just a sprain, is all. This should help.”
Caroline took off Valentine’s rag and dropped it on the floor. When her father picked it up and threw it in the trash, Zoe almost stopped him, but how would she explain wanting a filthy rag without explaining that it was from her brother? She couldn’t, so she sat and said nothing as Caroline wrapped a bandage tightly around her foot and her father threw away her last physical connection to Valentine.
“There. That should do it. Try standing on it,” said Caroline.
Zoe got it. The foot felt good. She put her weight on it. The bandage was tight and there was almost no pain.
“It’s great. I’ve been hobbling around here for days.”
