Remember Me (27 page)

"Honey," Garrett said, hurrying to Jimmy's side and grabbing him by his wrists. "I don't want you."

Garrett dragged Jimmy away. Amanda appeared to be set on going to an agonizing end until a spark landed on her bare foot. Letting out a silly cry, she ran after Garrett. I loved it.

Peter lay where he had fallen. Following Garrett's lead, I took hold of his arms and pulled him out into the night air. I was surprised at how light he felt, forgetting for a moment that he didn't weigh anything at ail.

The house survived. Two black and white units arrived on Garrett's tail, and the policemen were quick to gather the front and backyard hoses and get water on the flames. A fire engine appeared shortly afterward. They had paramedics with them. Jimmy got plenty of attention. He sat propped up beside Garrett on the neighbor's front lawn while a medical man pressed an oxygen mask to his face. Leaving Peter still unconscious but out of the way of the stampede, I walked over to check on him.

"How's he doing, doc?" Garrett asked, concerned.

"I'm not a doctor," the man replied. "But he appears to be doing fine."

"I can breathe," Jimmy said, pushing away the face mask. The excess insulin in his blood was not affecting him as much as it should have. I could only believe the light had somehow detoxified him.

The paramedic put down the oxygen. "Then breathe," he said. "But you're still going to the hospital."

"No, I'm not," Jimmy said. "I feel fine."

"What did she do to you?" Garrett asked.

Jimmy's voice hardened. "She killed Shari. She pushed her off the balcony. She tried to kill me. She shot me up with too much insulin and knocked me out.

Then she put an air bubble in my vein."

"If she knocked you out with insulin," the paramedic said, reaching for an instrument that resembled the tool Jimmy used to check his blood sugar, "how do you know what she put in your vein?"

I crossed my fingers and made the sign of the cross waiting for Jimmy's response. But I was in for a disappointment. "I don't know," he said after a moment's hesitation.

"We're going to keep him in the hospital overnight," the paramedic told Garrett.

"Oh, no," Jimmy muttered.

Garrett slapped Jimmy on the side. "Son, remind me someday that I've got to introduce you to some nice girls."

Satisfied that Jimmy was in good hands, I returned to where I had deposited Peter. The flashing lights of police cars bathed the surrounding houses. The whole neighborhood had poured out to watch the spectacle. Her white robe gross with bloodstains, Amanda stood pale and bent in the custody of a police officer.

Peter had not moved an inch. Kneeling by his side, I shook him gently. "Peter?

Can you hear me? Wake up, it's Shari."

He stirred and opened his eyes. "Where am I?" he mumbled.

"It's not Newport Memorial, and I'm sad to say you didn't make it." I helped him up.

"How do you feel?"

"Embarrassed," he said. "How's Jimmy?"

"Fine. Everything's fine. Why are you embarrassed? You stayed. That took guts.

Believe me, I know."

He wouldn't look at me. "I lied to you."

I sat by his side and put an arm around his shoulder.

"What happened?" I asked.

He was ashamed. "I committed suicide."

"I don't believe it."

"Believe it. I was out on my bike, driving like a maniac, when I saw this truck coming at me the other way. I jerked my bike into its path."

He was serious. "But why?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. It was a number of things.

Everybody at school was ecstatic about how I'd pitched Hazzard to the city championship. But what they didn't know was that the coach pressured me into starting the last four playoff games. I let him pressure me. Anyway, I blew out my arm, tore my rotary cuff. I wasn't going to pitch again."

"That's why you ended your life?"

"No. There's more. It's complicated. I was depressed."

"Why?" I asked.

"I was lonely."

"But you had lots of friends. You had me."

He looked at me. "You heard what I said before the

Shadow arrived?"

"Yes. You were going to say you loved me, right?"

Ordinarily, he would have snorted at my nerve. Now he just nodded. "I've always been crazy about you."

I laughed. "You are so dumb. I was crazy about you!"

He shook his head. "Don't, Shari."

"I'm telling you the truth! Why didn't you ask me out?"

"You wouldn't have gone out with me."

"I would have given my right arm to go out with you!

God, I'm so angry at you! We could have had so much fun together!" I sighed.

"And I wouldn't have had to suffer so when you died."

"You suffered?" he asked in disbelief.

"Of course I did. I never got over losing you."

"But you didn't even go to my funeral."

"Because I was too upset. I stayed home and cried for days."

He stared at me strangely. "Are you serious?"

"Yes! I loved you! I love you now! When you found me in the cemetery after they buried me, it was the happiest day of my life. I mean, it was great! You didn't have to kill yourself over me."

"I didn't do it just because of you."

"Oh. All right. What else was the matter?"

"I was curious," he said.

"You were what?"

"I was curious to see what it was like on the other side. Jo showed you some of my stories. I was obsessed with death. It was an unhealthy obsession."

"I should say."

"There was something else. This is hard to explain.

Remember when we were in the park and trying to figure out who killed you?

Remember how I kept insisting we needed a motive?"

"Yes," I said.

"I should have known better. Did you hear what Amanda said in the house?

She had all these reasons for what she did, but when it came right down to it, she did it on the spur of the moment."

"Are you saying you pulled in front of the truck on the spur of the moment?"

"It sounds strange, but it's true."

"That's dumb," I repeated.

"I can't argue with you."

"Did this have anything to do with why Jeff dislikes me?"

"He knew I cared for you," Peter said. "But he thought you were a tease. I'm not sure, but from watching him the last couple of years, I sometimes got the impression he blames you for what happened that night."

"Does he think you hit the truck on purpose?"

"No. He thinks mat I had reasons for living dangerously.

But that's not quite die same thing."

"And that I was one of those reasons?"

"Yes," Peter said. "Does that bother you?"

"No. I understand."

"I'm glad. He's a great guy."

"I have another question for you," I said. "Why did you put me in your story?"

"That wasn't you," he said.

"You used my middle name—Ann."

"I didn't know that was your middle name."

"That's right," I said. "You don't even know how to spell my first name. OK, let's back up a sec. You were driving along, and you decided to add some excitement to your life by dying.

What happened next?"

"I realized I had made a terrible mistake."

"Is there a penalty over here for committing suicide?"

"Yes. Remember I told you I knew you couldn't have killed yourself?"

"Yes," I said.

"The reason I knew was because you have the opportunity to go into the light."

He paused. "I haven't had that opportunity."

I wrinkled up my face. "Why?"

"Until all the years my life should have lasted have gone by, I have to stay on earth. I am earthbound."

"Who bound you? Who told you this?"

"Those are the rules," he said.

"That's B.S. Peter, I've been in the light. I went into it when Jimmy's heart stopped. And I can tell you from personal experience that it wouldn't hand out penalties. It can't—it's too nice.

It's completely nonjudgmental. The reason you're stuck here is because you're keeping yourself here. You're feeling guilty."

"Wouldn't you?" he asked. "I threw away my life. It was only by blind luck that I didn't kill the driver of the truck."

"Yes, I would feel guilty. But not for tha rest of eternity.

Who told you that you have to stay?"

"Other ghosts in my predicament," he said.

"Oh, swell, go to the man on death row for advice about your trial. They're obviously as screwed up as you are."

"I am not screwed up," he said indignantly.

"Yes you are. Here you give me all these boring lectures on how anything is possible, and you don't even know how to knock on the door to ask to be let in.

And another thing, if you haven't been in the light, how can you know anything about it?"

"I didn't lie to you about everything. I really have helped many people that have just crossed over. Dozens of times I've seen what happens when the light comes over an individual, the joy they experience, the peace—even before they leave."

"But you've only watched, Peter. Tell me, have you ever tried to go on?"

That got him. "No," he said.

"See? Tell me another thing. What happened when your Shadow caught you?"

"My whole life passed before me."

"And?" I asked.

"And what?"

"Was it so horrible? Were you such a bad guy? The Peter I remember couldn't do enough for people."

"The Peter you remember wasn't the real Peter."

I stood and spoke to the sky. "Listen to this guy—Mr. Suffering Servant himself!" I kicked Peter in the shin, and I honestly believe he felt it—he winced.

"Stay here, then. Go play with your other unhappy ghosts. Spend the rest of eternity peeking in at girls in the shower. I don't care. I have better things to do with my time."

He raised his head. "I didn't peek at you in the shower."

"You said you did."

"I was kidding," he said. "I left before you took off all your clothes."

"All my domes? How much did I have off?"

"Ah, your top," he said.

"How did I look?"

"I told you, fine. Great."

"Why did you leave at all?" I asked. "I thought you were lusting after me."

"I didn't say that."

"Crazy about me, love me, lusting after me—it's all the same thing."

"I didn't peek at you in the shower."

"Why not?" I asked, feeling mildly insulted.

"That would have been unethical."

"Ah-ha!" I exclaimed, pointing a finger at his nose.

"That's your problem. You think sex is dirty. You have a dirty mind. No wonder you can't get into the light."

He took hold of my finger. He surprised me when he pulled it down and gently kissed the back of my hand. "I can get in," he said quietly.

I took a step back at his change in tone. "Did I convince you that easily?" I asked, surprised.

Peter stood and put his hands in his pockets. We had almost forgotten the commotion going on around us. The fire was out, although smoke continued to pour from the front door and the side windows. My dad would probably have to replace the downstairs furniture and carpeting. I wasn't worried; he could afford it. Slowly, in twos and threes, the neighbors were returning to their homes, probably thinking those Coopers were crazy.

"You did the most for me when you made me stay and face the Shadow," Peter said. "I'm not afraid of it anymore.

I don't have to keep running. It helps that I was able to talk about it right now.

I guess I've finally accepted what I did.

And what you said just now, yeah, it makes good sense. I can go on, I think, as long as I can go with you." He paused.

"You were serious about liking me?"

"Loving you," I corrected, squeezing up against him.

"But don't make me out to sound like a soul winner, all right? It's not what I want out of this relationship."

"What do you want, Shari?"

I thought a moment. "Kisses. Two years' worth."

He grinned. "For that, you'll have to take off your top."

Later, we rode to the hospital in the back of the ambulance with Jimmy.

Garrett was also there, and that was good. I put my arm around the detective and gave him a big hug. Maybe he felt it, I don't know. He belched.

"I owe this man," I said.

"He saved your brother's life," Peter agreed.

"He also saved my reputation. There's got to be something I can do for him."

"Shari."

"I'm going to give it some thought," I insisted, calling over to my brother, who was sitting with a wary eye on the paramedic. "Hey, Jimmy, what do you say?"

Others might have disagreed, but I believe what happened next meant Jimmy remembered a portion of our talk in the golden lotus. At my remark, he turned to Garrett and finished the sentence the popping of the red balloon had interrupted.

"You know," he said, "Shari was the best sister a guy could've had."

I burst out crying, I was so happy.

PETER AND I did not leave immediately. I wanted to see what happened after all the excitement died down. I also wanted to offer what help I could to smooth out what I believed was going to be a rough period for those I loved.

The truth about Amanda's biological parents came out. It was, I suppose, inevitable. Yet Mrs. Foulton's full involvement in the switch of infants was never brought to light. Mrs. Foulton and Mrs. Parish got together and led the authorities to believe that they had "felt" for many years that some "mistake"

had been made long ago at the hospital. It was amazing how vague they were about what this mistake was, and even more amazing that the police didn't haul them both over the coals. It may have been because nobody was pressing any charges.

The police did, however, take a print of Amanda's feet and mine—lifted from inside one of my shoes—and compared them to the ones in the hospital's files.

This verified that the mistake had indeed been very real. I was worried about how my parents would react when they learned that their pretend daughter had been murdered by their real daughter. My concerns proved to be groundless. They were both so elated to have a daughter again that they went out and hired the best lawyer in town to defend Amanda for killing me!