Mara Purnhagen - Beyond The Grave

“Charlotte and I have no plans to move,” Dad told Annalise now. He looked over at me, and I nodded to show that, yes, I absolutely agreed with him. I wasn’t going anywhere. My sister leaned against the fridge and folded her arms across her chest.

“But this can’t be healthy, living in the same place you were attacked.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Mom wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want you to live like this.”

Dad averted his gaze. I knew it was difficult for him to look at her. Annalise looked so much like our mother. They shared the same clear eyes, the same wavy black hair. It was probably harder for him to look at his oldest daughter than it was to look at Mom, pale and motionless in her hospital bed.

“This is her home,” Dad finally said. “This is where we’re going to bring her when she recovers. I’m not leaving.”

I nodded. “Neither am I.”

The doorbell rang, and a moment later Shane’s voice boomed from the foyer. “We’re here!”

We turned to greet our guests with the happy smiles we’d all perfected. I didn’t have to fake mine so much when I saw Noah. While everyone else helped bring food to the table, Noah and I hung behind. “You look great,” he whispered.

I looked down at my jeans and white T-shirt. “I’m not wearing anything special.” Except the bracelet. I always wore that.

“Doesn’t matter. You still look great.”

“If you really want to flatter me, you’ll try my salad.”

He kissed my ear, sending a little shiver down my back. “I’m sure it’s fantastic.”

Dinner was filled with bright conversation about Trisha’s phone call with her son, Annalise’s upcoming semester and the courses she would be taking, and how Noah would be starting school as a senior in a few weeks. I watched as everyone sampled my cuisine, taking careful bites and picking out the random unwanted fruit or vegetable. Noah ate three servings, so I was happy.

Trisha also talked about the wedding. “I know we don’t have a firm date yet, but I want everything to be in order,” she said. “When we have a date that accommodates everyone, I want to move forward with lightning speed.”

I looked at Shane, who nodded. He was keeping his promise.

After everyone left, Dad retreated to the living room to watch TV while Annalise and I washed the dishes. “How do you do it?” she asked. My hands were immersed in soapy water and at first, I had no idea what she was talking about.

“I use the scrubber sponge.” I rinsed a plate and handed it to Annalise to dry. We had a dishwasher, but I actually liked washing dishes sometimes. The warm, bubbly water and simple repetition of the chore relaxed me.

“I’m not talking about dishes.” Annalise sighed. “I mean, how do you live in this house? How do you pass by the dining room every single day and not think about what happened there? I wasn’t even here, and I think about it constantly.”

“I do think about it.” I held a fork to the light so I could make sure I had thoroughly cleaned it, then dumped it back into the hot water for one more rinse. “But if I didn’t live here, I’d still think about it. At least here, I can face it. I’m not running from anything, and I think Mom would be proud of that.” Again, I could almost hear her voice: Don’t let fear make your decisions for you.

“Maybe.” Annalise had been drying the same plate for a while now, rubbing it slowly with the dish towel. I put my hand on hers and she looked up, startled. “I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” she whispered. “If I go, I don’t know how I’ll be able to come back here again.”

“You can come back with Mom.” I hoped she believed me. I wasn’t sure I trusted my own words, but if Annalise did, maybe they could be real.

“At least you’ll be able to drive yourself to school,” she said as she put away the small stack of clean plates.

“You’re not mad about that, are you?” My eighteenth birthday in June had almost completely escaped my mind, the first time I could ever remember not being excited about the day. In fact, when I’d realized it was coming up, I’d cried. It was the first birthday without Mom, and after enduring the torture of graduation without her face in the crowd, I was not ready to tackle another milestone so soon.

Annalise had stepped in and made a sugary pink cake, Trisha had brought over a dozen fat balloons, and Noah had given me the bracelet from Potion. I wasn’t expecting anything from Dad, as he was spending most of his time either asleep or sitting at Mom’s bedside, but he’d surprised me by leading me out of the house and handing me the keys to his car. His gorgeous, shiny silver BMW, the one that I wasn’t allowed to wash, much less drive. But with a quick kiss on my cheek, Dad had announced that it was time I had my own form of transportation. He’d dropped the keys into my hand, told me to drive safely, and was back inside the house before I could squeal with joy.

“I’ve already told you a hundred times,” Annalise said. “I’m not mad about the car. I’m glad you can finally drive yourself around.” She wiped at the wet silverware.

“Then what is it? I know something’s bothering you.”

She glanced toward the living room. The lights were off, with only the blue glow from the TV illuminating the room. “He loved that car. It was a gift from Mom. Why wouldn’t he want to keep it for himself?”

I didn’t know. He had bought a new car the following week, a little black hybrid.

“He needs time,” I said quietly. “We all do.”

“I know.” Annalise put the silverware away. When she turned back around, her eyes were filled with tears. “I worry about you. Both of you.”

I gave my sister a hug. “Well, I worry about you.”

She sniffed and pulled away. “I’ll manage. I have school and my friends and Mills.”

“And I have school and my friends and Noah,” I reminded her.

“But you also have—” she looked around the room “— this. You’re stuck here, where she was hurt. I can remove myself from it. You can’t.”

What I couldn’t make Annalise understand was that I did not want to remove myself from it. Yes, the house held horrible memories, but also good ones, and I couldn’t separate the two. My life was formed by both, and I wasn’t willing to let any of it go.

“I’m going to call you every day,” I told Annalise. “And you’d better answer the phone.”

She hugged me again. “I promise.”

Later, after I was sure that Dad was asleep in his room and Annalise was asleep in hers, I pulled out the box I kept under my bed. Hidden beneath a bunch of wrinkled T-shirts were a few pieces of equipment my parents had used in their paranormal investigations. I turned on the EMF reader first and set it on my nightstand. Then I checked the battery on the digital recorder. Finally, I brought out my thermal imaging camera and turned it on.

“Is anyone here?” I whispered. In my parents’ show, they always called out in a loud, clear voice, but that was to ensure the sound quality of the program. For my purposes, I only needed to be loud enough for the sensitive recorder to pick up my voice. “Can you hear me?”

I waited, as I had nearly every night for weeks. Only one light shone on the EMF reader, the one signaling that it was on.

“I need to know if someone’s here.”

I had been doing this for so long it felt like a sacred ritual. After I could no longer bear the daily visits to Mom’s bedside, I decided that I could do something else to help her, something more powerful than my somber hand-holding. And even though nothing had happened yet, I still believed that I was helping her. I held on to the possibility that the answers I needed could be discovered if only I tried hard enough. Mom had suffered serious injury because of a paranormal entity. With her doctors at a loss for how to help her, I had to find a way they wouldn’t dream of. If the cause of her suffering was paranormal, couldn’t the cure be paranormal, as well?