Disclaimer: I do not own the Mediator series!

Susannah's Point of View

It was a stupid trip to the market. That's what started all…this. A stupid trip to the market on a stupid hot day in a town where I don't know anybody. Great.

I just had to make fun of Bradley that morning. If I hadn't, he wouldn't have remembered it was my turn to get our groceries that week.

And now I'm stuck in a line behind fifteen loud, impatient, hot, sweaty people. I wonder if we could just go without bread this week…

But then my stepfather would get angry with me, and I was trying to make him like me. Bradley and Jacob I didn't much care about, and it was easy to get on David's good side, but I didn't really want to ruin my mother's new life, no matter what the cost was to me.

Maybe I should back up. It's 1850, and the California Gold Rush is still calling people from across the United States to go and stake a claim. Which the locals find pretty annoying, if the comments I've heard are true.

That's actually what brought my family here. My mother fell in love back where we lived, all the across the United States in New York City. Pretty quickly, it seemed, they got married and my stepfather decided it would be a good idea to take advantage of the Gold Rush and go stake a claim.

My mother, of course, would follow him anywhere and my three stepbrothers and I got dragged along. Unfortunately, my stepfather didn't find much gold. Enough that we wouldn't starve, but it would take a lot of saving up to get us back to New York. So for now, my family has settled down here, in Carmel-by-the-Sea, California. In a town where our very existence seems to irritate people.

You see, before the Gold Rush, Carmel was a very small town in which everybody knew one another. There was no reason to go to any other towns, because all their friends and families were right there.

After the Gold Rush, every resident of Carmel was taken out of their comfort zone as tourists and newcomers flocked to the picturesque town. Either they were stopping on their way to find gold, or their predicament matched my family's. Either way, the residents here felt nothing but disdain for anyone they didn't know since they were born.

At least, that's the kind of idea I've gotten from all the whispers behind my back. Of course, there have been none to my face since Kelly Prescott made a very negative comment involving my stepfather and using many profanities (Her mother would have been shocked; they were very avid churchgoers).

After I broke her nose, everyone kind of left me alone, which I like better anyway. I've never been good at making friends, and my best friend back in New York is the only thing I have to look forward to right now.

I have no interest in getting to know any person from this tight little group of stuck up, judgmental people.

My mother says my tendency to solve problems with violence is unladylike. She doesn't realize that that is half the reason I do it.

I looked up to see that there were only two people between the bread counter and me. I saw, as the obvious tourist walked away, the baker's stoic expression change to a grin when the man in front of me stepped up to the counter.

"Hector! How's your sister? I heard the sickness was rough on her." The baker sounded like he already knew the answer, but wanted 'Hector' to say it.

"She's fine now, a little weak, but the doctor says she'll recover and be back to normal in no time." Hector replied.

"That's wonderful! So, what can I get for you today?"

I found that all the side conversations made the lines take twice as long as they usually would. It would probably take ten minutes for the customer ahead of me to walk away.

And they were annoyed with us?

"Sorry the line took so long; the tourists were arguing about my raising the price of bread! If they don't like it, why don't they just leave?" the baker sounded apologetic.

"You're right; nobody is benefiting from them being here, not even them. Just because the idiot men of their families can't have stayed where they were doesn't mean we should have to suffer. Why can't they just go back to where they came from?" Hector, just take your bread at a lower price than all of us are getting it at and go away.

I couldn't take it anymore. "We can't go back to where we came from because we don't have the money! All the rumors out there told of everyone coming here and getting rich! We were barely surviving in New York; can you blame my stepfather for trying to make our lives better?"

Hector looked startled as he turned around. Apparently, he hadn't realized that anyone was behind him. The baker, of course, knew I was there the whole time, and quickly replied. "Your stepfather, huh? What happened, was your father so dishonorable that he left when you were born? I don't blame him for wanting to abandon a disrespectful little girl like you."

To my horror, I found that tears were forming in my eyes. I fought them back and said, "My father died when I was six, for your information. And I'm only disrespectful to the condescending people of Carmel!" And with that, I turned on my heel and walked away with no bread. I would have to ask my mother if we could make some before my stepfather found out.

And I would have walked straight home, too, if I hadn't seen an old man around the corner beckon to me. Out of the baker's view, I approached the man.

He was glowing. Literally. He whispered, "I need you to tell my daughter to give my cat to the neighbor. I know she wants to take care of it for me, but she's terribly allergic. Just because I died doesn't mean she has to ignore that fact."

Oh, that's another thing I forgot to mention. I can see and speak to the dead.

I can usually help them move on from this world, onto whatever they do afterwards. My mother tried to get me into religion, but I'm not sure about it.

Because Carmel is so tiny, there really aren't really any murders (Unlike New York City). So most of the people are old or sick when they die. That's part of why I work at the hospital here as a nurse, so I don't have to help many ghosts outside of work.

The old man stood there, waiting for my answer. At least he didn't care that I wasn't born in this town. It's not like he had anyone else to talk to. "Of course I will. I'll tell her right now."

-&&-

Jesse's Point of View

I only wanted to get a loaf of bread! And then those girl's words were trying to force themselves into my head and make me feel guilty.

Mr. Prescott was out of line, of course. He shouldn't have complained in front of one of the tourists, or commented about her father until she left. He obviously was going to tell his family about it later, so why couldn't he wait until then?

I had to forget about it. Newcomers get criticized every day. Why should today be any different, just because I was involved?

I had to get home with the rest of my groceries so Mother could make supper. We didn't want Sarah to get hungry right when she was ready to eat again. According to the doctor, we were lucky. For a six-year-old, she fought sickness very well. She was predicted to recover fully within a week.

I just hoped my sisters had stayed away from her like they were supposed to. This disease was apparently worse the older you got, so I hoped at least Josefina and Marta who were fifteen and sixteen, had kept their distance. Nine-year-old Sophia, I hoped, wouldn't catch anything, because she and Sarah were hard to separate. And my twelve-year-old sister, Mercedes, wanted to be a nurse, so she would also be hard to keep away.

Maybe the lecture my mother had given them would be enough to scare them away. Sarah could easily have died if she hadn't had a strange partial immunity to some of the symptoms according to the doctor…

And then there was Maria. She was my cousin, and my fiancée. I barely knew her, but she was coming to town soon. She was beautiful, and I couldn't wait to marry her. Maybe, when I got out of the house, I would have time to go to medical school before my father needed me to help with the farm. Maybe I actually could become a doctor, or at least learn about the topic that interested me.

I was snapped out of my reverie as an elderly man walked up to me. He had a stoop to his back, and, though while he was walking up to me, he was a ghost. He needed me to find his daughter and make her get rid of his cat, I remembered. I was supposed to do it before I went to the market.

"I'm going, I'm going!" I snapped irritably. I hated being a mediator. Why couldn't people just move on by themselves? I'm sure, given time, his daughter would get rid of his cat on her own after her allergies became unbearable. A lot of people thought me odd by now, and if it weren't for the tourists, I would be the scapegoat for most things.

I quickly went home, left the groceries, claimed I had something else to take care of, and jogged to the daughter's house, following the directions the old man had given me that morning.