“As long as you’re living, my mother you’ll be,” she sang.
For too many minutes, nothing happened. But one of the articles she’d read at Rocky’s Diner said that ghosts—or energy untethered to a physical body—could communicate with living beings, so she didn’t give up.
“As long as I’m living, your baby I’ll be,” she sang, changing the final line for her own purposes.
It’s me, Mama, she thought as she sang, texturing the words with that one-day truth. She pushed on that thought with all her might. Again and again, she imagined energy flying from her to her mother . . . and it happened! A door edging open, the same way it had happened with Aunt Elena!
Brilliant light . . .
Tiny wings . . .
Confusion, and Mama, and Ava as a baby.
Then, like two layers of a picture sliding together to form a single image, their spirits merged.
Ava swelled with exaltation. Mama, it’s me!
Thirteen-year-old Klara put her hand to her face. She said, “Omigosh, I’m going crazy.”
You’re not, don’t worry! But you might, if you don’t listen to what I say. Molecules buzzed and hummed. Can you hear me, Mama? I mean, Klara? For real? Nod if you can!
Klara tilted her head, rested her ear against her cupped palm, and did that jostling thing with her hand as if she were trying to get water out.
That was as good as nodding, Ava decided.
Except bubbles of fear clogged Klara’s blood. Ava tasted metal. The bubbles were so dense and airless they could drown a girl. Could Ava drown within her own future mother?
Klara’s heart raced, and Ava experienced it as if her own heart was racing. Klara breathed shallowly. Ava breathed shallowly.
Whoa, Ava thought.
“Whoa,” Klara said, and Ava felt the weight of Klara’s emotions. It was a richer tapestry than she’d initially realized. Anger and fear, yes, but also sadness. The way Klara let her body slump told Ava how helpless she felt.
But you’re not, Ava told her. I’m here. I’m here to help.
“Who are you?!” Klara demanded.
Don’t you know? Didn’t you listen? I’m Ava.
“Ava,” Klara said flatly.
Yeah. I’m, well . . . I’m your daughter.
Klara’s pulse skyrocketed.
In the future! I’m from the future! Ava rapidly explained. Years from now, you’ll have three daughters: Natasha, Darya, and me. And guess what? You do marry Nate Blok!
Klara didn’t try to boot Ava out. Instead, she allowed their connection to strengthen. Ava knew there was no science to confirm it, but she sensed that they were connected as deeply as they were because everything Ava was saying was true. Ava was Klara’s future daughter. Klara was flabbergasted at Ava’s presence, so Ava repeated to Klara her own mantra. It’s okay. Sometimes impossible situations call for impossible solutions, that’s all.
“Yeah, sure, that’s all,” Klara muttered. “And what did you mean, I grow up and marry . . . Nate?”
A flicker show of impressions raced through Ava: A photograph of Ava’s family when Ava was three and their family was whole. Then Mama, depressed. Mama abandoning not just Ava, but also her sisters, Vera and Elena; her other two daughters, Natasha, Darya; and, of course, her husband.
Nate.
Emily’s brother.
Ava’s one-day Papa.
Klara knuckled her eyes. She said, “Okay, I didn’t get all that. I’m not sure I want to.”
No problem, Ava said. That’s why I’m here, to make sure none of that happens. To make sure Emily doesn’t—
“Doesn’t what?” Klara pulled her bare feet onto her chair and hugged her knees. “When you think about Emily, it’s like a black hole or something. Everything goes shadowy.”
Ava’s thought went skittering. Don’t tell her about Emily being erased, she cautioned herself. Not yet!
“Erased?!” Klara said. “Did you just say erased?”
Ava tried to close off her brain—except, why? This was the reason she was here, wasn’t it?
“Everyone loves Emily!” Klara went on. “No one would ‘erase’ her, ever!”
No one but you, Ava thought, and it was out, despite her effort to ease into it more gently.
Ava, formless though she was, clapped her hand over her mouth. If not acting like a person who still had a body was hard, not thinking the thoughts she wanted to banish was even more difficult.
Oh, just go ahead and do it, she told herself. She relayed to Klara the future that might be, and Klara bolted out of her room and into the bathroom, where she dropped in front of the toilet and threw up.
Oh, Ava thought. Oops . . . ?
Klara retched again, and then once more, even though her stomach was empty. She grabbed some toilet paper and swiped at her mouth. Then she stood, unsteadily, and cupped handfuls of water into her mouth, rinsed, and spit. She stared at herself in the mirror.
“Are you really . . . ?” she asked.
I am, Ava said. She felt a wrenching twist of sympathy for this girl, her one-day mother, who hadn’t yet done anything. Not anything bad, that is. And . . . I’m sorry.
“But why—” Klara gave a hard shake of her head. She did believe Ava. Ava could feel it. She might not understand, but she believed.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door. “Klara?” said a small voice. “Are you all right?”
Klara startled. “Um . . . I’m fine!” she called. “Upset stomach. Better now!” Peering again at her sallow complexion, she whispered, “I just won’t make my wishes at all, then.”
Ava snapped to attention, knowing that wasn’t the answer. The wishes mattered. The magic mattered.
Go to Emily, Ava thought.
Klara felt a rush of relief. Ava felt it with her, a stripe of sunlight in a windowless room. Emily was Klara’s best friend. She needed her best friend at a time like this.
First thing in the morning, Ava prompted. Now, bed.
Klara nodded. She dried her hands on the hand towel and returned to her room, passing a very young, very cute Aunt Elena wearing a comical expression of concern.
Snuggled beneath her covers, Klara shivered and turned off her bedside lamp. She
