“Ghosted?” I’m only a little familiar with the term. I think she means Nathan stopped texting her back, which would be dumb since he sees her in class and on campus every day. You can’t just cut ties with someone you see in person every day. “Can I, uh, see the texts? It might give me a better idea of what’s going on,” I add, so it doesn’t seem like I just want to snoop around her phone or be up in her private business.
Ritzi hands over her phone. “If you think it will help.”
I skim through the text message chain between Nathan and her. Ritzi is very flirty with a lot of emojis. I’m relieved to see Nathan is polite but not encouraging. Whatever Ritzi thought or hoped was happening, Nathan is innocent of leading her on.
“Nathan is a good guy, Ritzi.” I hand her phone back to her. “I think there’s been some sort of mix-up. Just talk to him. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to clear up any confusion.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I know so.” I get up to answer a second knock on my door. I forget until my hand is on the knob that I’m expecting Nathan. The only thing that can be remotely on the same level of awkward as me, Jay, and Nathan together in the same room is me, Ritzi, and Nathan together in the same room.
Nathan looks back and forth between Ritzi and me. “Hey, Ritzi, I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I live right next door,” she says. “I didn’t know you planned to stop by either.”
“Meredith and I have an appointment downtown.” He shoots me a look that says “get us out of here as fast as you can.”
“Um, hey, Ritzi, is it okay if we pick this up later?” I ask. “I don’t want to miss the appointment.”
She frowns, looking disappointed, but agrees anyway. “Sure, if you have to. Have fun without me.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I grab my purse and wait for Nathan and Ritzi in the hall. When they’re both out of the room, I lock up, Ritzi heads back to her room, and Nathan and I head for the staircase.
“What was that all about?” he asks as we walk through the parking lot to Dad’s waiting Corvette.
“Remember when I said she likes you?” I stop in front of Dad’s car and dig the key out of my purse, then unlock the doors and climb in. I’m not super comfortable driving, but I doubt Dad would want Nathan behind the wheel of his four-wheeled baby.
Nathan squints as he tries to recall the memory. “Vaguely.”
“Well, that’s what that was all about.” I wave a hand to organize my thoughts. “She thought you were ghosting her when you didn’t answer her texts. I tried to talk her down from the ledge. You showing up may have made it worse.” I don’t want to say the next words. I dread the answer, though I have no right to feel nervous or jealous over an answer from a boy who I have no claim over. He is not mine, no matter what I slipped up and said in my room. “Is there anything going on with you two?”
Nathan laughs, but I still need to hear the words. I still need to hear him deny that there’s anything going on. It’s the only way this ache in my heart will stop. “Is there anything going on with Ritzi and me?” He fiddles with his seatbelt as I pull out of the parking lot and head toward downtown.
“I didn’t know it was such a hard question to answer.” There’s an edge to my voice—the same chilliness I’ve heard in both Jay’s and Nathan’s voices. Now I’m jealous. We might as well form a club.
“It’s easy to answer,” he says. “It’s the easiest thing in the world for me to say—at least on my part. There’s nothing going on between Ritzi and me. She’s cool and all, but the only one I want anything going on with is you, Meredith.” He rests a hand on my knee as I drive. “You’ve always been the only one I want.”
I practically yank Nathan’s arm out of its socket when my feet stall out on the steps of Open Closed Doors. He stops and looks over at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “We’re here now. You just need to put one foot in front of the other. You can do it, Meredith. Trust me, if I can, you can.”
I stare up at the shop sign, willing my uncooperative feet to move. They don’t listen. It’s like I’ve suddenly grown roots and will just stand outside and stare forever. “I’m afraid of what we will find out. I don’t want to know how she died.” I shudder. “I don’t want to know how either of them died. Why can’t we just leave it alone? Why can’t we just agree that we’re us now and leave the past in the past?”
“Because it’s affecting our present.” Nathan squeezes my hand. “Maybe we’ve been going around in these same patterns for even longer than that. I don’t know.” He squeezes my hand again to show support. “All I know is tough choices have tough answers. Don’t forget we’re in this together, remember? I don’t think Nate could stop what happened to Mercy with the whole her dying thing, but I won’t let history repeat itself. I promise. Now, let’s go inside, okay? We can do this. You’re stronger than your fear.”
The jolt of energy that passes through me as Nathan’s fingers tighten around mine gives me just the amount of courage I need to walk through the door to find answers to the past. He’s right. I am stronger than my fear. We both are. No matter what happened to Mercy and Nate, we can face it and learn from it. Even in the darkness, there is light.
“Welcome back.” Catalina looks up from the reception desk when we enter. Today her hair is bright red with purple streaks.
“Remember,” Nathan whispers as we follow Catalina to the back room, “Nate and Mercy have a story to tell. We owe it to them and to us to listen.”
“You go first this time,” I whisper back. Nathan squeezes both of my hands before taking his place on the recliner. I don’t know why I’m dreading this session so much, but the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach only intensifies as Catalina leads Nathan through the past-life regression breathing, deepening, and visualization techniques. Why am I so scared? What secrets is Mercy hiding deep in my past?
Haunting, 1888
Nate Thatcher
At least Mercy has class enough not to mention the flowers now overflowin’ in her arms were yesterday’s centerpieces. I scooped them up before the maids got to them. It seemed a shame to throw ’em out.
“What’s the occasion?” She looks up at me with that smile of hers that could rival the sun for warmth.
“An anniversary of sorts,” I say. “Three years and two months ago I first saw ya, though it took three more months for me to buck up enough courage to say ‘how do ya do.’ Do you remember?” I watch as she buries her nose in the flowers. I feel a swell of pride knowin’ that I gave those to her. I did. Not James, not any of those other swells hangin’ around. Me.
“I remember you dropped a tray full of silverware,” Mercy says. “James thought you were incompetent and asked Papa why he hired a clumsy ‘mick.’”
“Water off the back.” I dismiss the slur. James can call me whatever he pleases. I plan to get the last laugh. “With you, at least I didn’t stay tongue-tied forever.”