Before I left Dustin’s house, he Googled Liberty and Pioneer, discovering that they were (as I’d suspected) names of historical cemeteries all within an hour’s drive. But how did lavish Green Briar fit on the list? Alyce went to a lot of trouble for an old file. It just didn’t add up.
Sighing, I looked up as Dustin’s printer shut off.
“Here,” Dustin said, holding out several printouts. “Easy directions to keep even you from getting lost. On second thought, I should go with you.”
“And miss out on the chance for arrest?” I teased. “Go kick butt at your protest. Don’t worry, I won’t get lost.”
“You always say that.”
“I always mean it.”
“Until I get a SOS call,” he teased. “I highlighted your route in yellow. Give me a call later to let me know how things go. By then I should have you set up for your first date. Which guy would you rather go out with first? Zachary or Kyle?”
“Neither.”
“Should I remind you this was your idea?”
I stuck my tongue out at him and snatched the printouts from his hand. As the door thumped shut behind me, I wondered what would be a bigger waste of time:
1. Going out with guys Alyce would hate.
2. Going to cemeteries without knowing why.
This whole Temp Life thing would work better if Alyce’s body came with easy-to-follow directions. Instead it felt like I was sinking deeper into “crazy.” I envied Grammy for having such a simple assignment. No school, no obligations, just kicking back and having fun at my house.
Hmmm … what exactly was she doing?
Instead of starting up the car, I reached over for Monkey Bag and dug inside for Alyce’s cell. Punching in my own number was so weird. The phone rang and rang and I was about ready to hang up when someone answered.
But it wasn’t Grammy.
My mother!
“Just a sec,” Mom said, in a rush as if she’d been interrupted (she was probably chasing Melonee, who always resisted having her diaper changed). “Amber!” she shouted.
Startled, I jerked back and smacked my elbow on the door handle, crying a sick-cat sound-combo of “Mom!” and “Ow!” My eyes swam with tears but not because of my throbbing elbow. Mom had called me “Amber.” Could I abandon all pretense and return home where I belonged?
“Amber!” Mom repeated, sounding far away, like she’d dropped the phone. “What’s wrong with you lately? Didn’t you hear me calling? Here, it’s Alyce.”
My soaring hopes crashed to earth like dead stars.
Mom hadn’t been talking to me — and I missed her so much. It stung, worse than after the triplets were born and I wanted to stay with Mom in the hospital but was told to go home because the babies needed Mom more than I did. I needed her then and now, too.
I was ready to ditch my assignment and drive right over — until a voice from the phone yanked me back to reality.
“Amb — I mean, Alyce — are you there?” my own voice whispered.
“Yes,” I told my grandmother with a rueful look down at my temporary body.
“Wait a minute while I take this in my room. You probably should call my cell next time.”
“Your cell? But I don’t have a cell phone.”
“You do now. Probably because your parents nearly lost you after the accident and want to keep in touch with you.” She gave me the number. “Okay, I’m in your room now so we can talk freely without Theresa overhearing.”
“You’re supposed to call her Mom,” I said, a bit too sharply as I wiped a tear from my cheek.
“I’ve been trying, but it’s so hard when I look at her and remember changing her diapers. Being my daughter’s daughter is harder than I expected. Oh, and before I forget, you had a call from your beau last night. He’s still in Los Angeles doing some singing contest. Nearly knocked my socks off when he knew I wasn’t you, and since he knew, I told him who you were.”
“Yeah, he called here.” I warmed a little thinking of Eli. I wasn’t able to be with my family, but at least I could talk to Eli. “Thanks for bending the rules and telling him what was going on.”
“My rules, so I can bend them.”
“Just don’t bend too many — you are in my body.”
“Worried I’ll run out and get a tattoo?”
“Depends on the tattoo,” I teased. I’d secretly wanted to get a tattoo but hated needles.
“I’ll get a big pink heart surrounded by flowery words that say ‘Grandmothers Rule Forever.’”
“Grammy!” I cried. “You wouldn’t!”
“Sure about that?” She chuckled, sounding exactly like herself except with my voice. “Honey, you have nothing to worry about. I’m keeping busy here. Theresa was impressed with how I rearranged your bedroom furniture and organized your closet. I couldn’t believe how much junk you crammed in there. I’m throwing out a huge pile of mismatched shoes, old clothes, and trashy magazines.”
“They’re not trashy! Don’t throw them out!” I yelled, so loudly that a man walking his dog turned to stare at the “crazy girl” sitting alone in a car.
“Why keep old magazines?”
“How else am I going to study what’s going on in Hollywood without being an insider? You know how serious I am about my career plans.” I had E-Buzz magazines dating back five years, full of highlighted articles about entertainment agents and how these movers and shakers influenced Hollywood. With study and hard work, I planned to create my own style of influence someday. “I don’t care about the old shoes and clothes, but return my magazines to the closet.”
“Sure, honey. I’ve always been behind your ambitions one thousand percent. I’ll take excellent care of your collection and I know the perfect shelf for them. Is there anything else I should do for you? I’ve already cleaned your room, washed dishes, dusted, and folded laundry. I couldn’t find any homework.”
“That’s because it’s spring break with no school until Monday.”
“So what would you be doing if you were here?”
“Hanging out.” I shrugged. “You know. Computer games, playing with my sisters, listening to music, talking to friends.”
“That doesn’t sound very productive.”
Her critical tone, one she often used with Mom but seldom with me, made me bristle. “I don’t always have to be doing something. But if you get bored, read my self-help books.”
“I never get bored,” she said firmly. “I’m going to help your mother by creating a daily schedule for the triplets, with meal times and educational activities. Theresa really is in over her head with the little girls. She has no organizational skills at all, but I’m doing my best to help.”
I groaned. Mom hated anyone telling her what to do. She believed in letting children discover themselves through non-structured play.
“Grammy, why don’t you hang out with me? We’re best friends, after all, so no one would think it was unusual. I can pick you up right now.”
“Where are you headed?”
“An old cemetery.”
“Why would you want to do something so morbid?” she asked. “It’s not like any souls linger around; they go on to better things.”
“I’m following Alyce’s plans,” I explained. “I found this list with dates and places she planned to visit. So I’ll go even though I don’t know what I’m supposed to do there.”
“Did you ask your GEM?”
“It only said Alyce was searching for something that’s lost — which isn’t much help. Sure you won’t come with me?”
“Count me not interested. I’ll stay here and help your mother. I’m beginning to think that’s my true purpose in being back here. Your mother and I didn’t always get along and before I died we had — oh, she just called for you, I mean me. Bye!”
Abruptly, Grammy clicked off.
I wondered what Grammy had started to tell me about Mom as I tucked the phone back into Monkey Bag and fished around for the car keys. Movement on the street caught my attention. An elderly couple out for a walk stared at me, probably suspicious of a junky car loitering in their upscale area.
Time to get moving.
Alyce’s car made a grinding sound when I started the engine, and I tensed, hoping her beloved Junkmobile wouldn’t die on me. The car had been dirt cheap and for a good reason. Fortunately the grinding faded to a low roar and the car seemed okay. Glancing in the side mirror at myself and seeing Alyce sitting in her rightful place gave me an odd sense of connection with my best friend, as if we were sitting together.
Was she aware of her body? Did she approve of what I was doing? Or was she too depressed to care? If only I could have helped her before things got critical. I hoped she forgave me for not helping her when she needed me.
But I’m making up for it now. I sent thoughts out to her like a prayer. Feel better and come back soon.
Checking Dustin’s map, I calculated where I wanted to go, tracing my finger along the yellow highlighted streets, then merging onto the freeway going north. But after driving a few miles, nothing looked right. Where did my turn-off go? I’d read every sign. There was no way I could have passed it.
Confused, I exited and read the map again. That’s when I noticed that the word “Liberty” was upside down. Oops. As I turned the map around and got back on the freeway heading in the right direction, I made a mental note not to mention this small “detour” to Dustin.
When I exited at Liberty, I was surprised how close the cemetery was to the freeway. I’d driven by here a zillion times without noticing that the fence surrounded old tombstones. The land was rounded, dipping slightly then rolling upward, with oak trees shading the hard dirt and weedy ground. There was no formal parking lot, only a wide graveled area off the road.
After parking the car under an oak tree, I consulted my GEM. Or should I say, attempted to consult my GEM. When I asked for information about Alyce’s reason for coming here, it only repeated that annoying to find the lost answer again.
Frustrated, I tossed the tiny book back into Monkey Bag and left the car. There was an elaborate, wrought iron double gate with the words “Liberty Cemetery” arched in a solemn welcome. I pushed it open. My feet crunched on rough grass as I entered the cemetery. I saw a pretty white gazebo and walked over to it, and found a sign containing all the names of those buried at the historical site. As I walked around, I read plaques dating back to the mid-1800s on gravestones that rose out of the ground like pale ghosts. Many were faded, made of rough-stone, but the area around them was well-kept and free of weeds.
I walked slowly from gravestone to gravestone, reading names and trying to guess what Alyce was looking for. Most of the graves were for pioneers and early settlers of the town of Liberty, which no longer existed. Some gravesites were adorned with real or fake flowers and bore inscriptions like “gone but not forgotten” or stating relationships like “mother,” “father,” or “son.” There were a lot of small graves, many of the children the same age as my little sisters, which made me sad. And again I puzzled over Alyce’s obsession with cemeteries. Was this idle curiosity or was she searching for that “lost” something?
If only I could tap into Alyce’s thoughts. When I’d been in a different body previously, I’d had unexpected flashes of their memories, like the body itself was trying to send messages. But I didn’t know how to make this happen or if it was something that I had control over. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try.
Sitting on a bench with eyes closed, I searched inside myself.
Alyce, if you’re here, can you answer me? Why are you so interested in cemeteries? I always thought it was just because you like taking creepy photographs but now I think there’s another reason. Does it have anything to do with your insisting I come see you when I was in Venice Beach?
Concentrating hard, I listened for any kind of answer — a shiver, a whisper, or even a strong feeling would help. But all I heard were cars, chirping birds, and a whooshing wind that shivered goose bumps up my skin.
No otherworldly messages.
Only the quiet of graves.
Maybe I was supposed to take pictures of unusual tombstones. I considered going back to the car for Alyce’s camera but it wasn’t like I actually knew how to use it. I’d watched her adjust the dials and buttons, but I never learned how to do it myself. I only knew how to use the point-and-click style.
So how long should I stay here doing nothing except staring at graves?
I glanced around one more time, wishing for inspiration, but there was nothing for me to do. Except leave.
When the gate clanged behind me and I returned to my car, I saw another car parked there, too. There was no one inside, so whoever was visiting graves must have gone on a different path. I liked imagining this unknown person paying solemn respects to an ancestor; that even the graves with fading names on their tombstones were still alive in the hearts of those left behind.
Cheered by this thought, I slipped back into the driver’s seat. The engine sputtered a few times, then started right up. Good old Junkmobile, I thought, giving it a fond pat on the dashboard.
Keeping my foot on the brake, I waited for a slow-moving hay truck to pass and wondered what to do now. It was still early, and I should get something accomplished. But what? I could return to Dustin’s for matchmaking plans. Except I got sick thinking about going out with Kyle and Zachary and wasn’t sure what scared me more — a guy who might have beat up his girlfriend or one who was sure to bore me to death. Anyway, Dustin probably would be at his protest by now, so I couldn’t go there even if I wanted to.
What I really wanted to do was go to my real home. A strong yearning grabbed hold of my heart and I could almost feel the car pull in that direction as I backed out of the graveled parking lot.
But if I saw my family, I’d never have the courage to leave again.
So it was back to Alyce’s house. But I wasn’t in a hurry to get there, so instead of heading back to the freeway, I opted for the long country route and made a left turn onto the main road. I could use the extra time to figure out a plan.
It was odd to be so close to a busy freeway yet isolated, with a panorama of crop fields stretching endlessly around me. An uneasy feeling struck me for no logical reason, and I shivered with a strong sense of wrongness.
Slowing, I looked around to make sure I wasn’t being followed. But the road was deserted. Maybe I was going the wrong direction again — that could explain my bad feeling. Yet when I double-checked my map it showed I was going the right way.
So why did my heart thump with anxiety?
It had something to do with a smell, I realized. A sea-breeze scent wafted inside the car, so briny that I tasted salt on my lips. Yet there was no logical way I could smell the ocean, which was over a hundred miles away.
Panic stole my breath. I could hardly breathe. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew enough to listen to my intuition. Right now it was screaming, Get the hell out of the car!
I spotted a small country store ahead and sped up, eager to be around other people. Inside the store, I’d be safe and everything would be fine.
But before I made it halfway there, a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
“Keep driving,” a familiar masculine voice ordered.
Too shocked to utter a sound, I looked in the rearview mirror, already knowing the face I’d see.
Gabe was back.