He is... stuck."

Is the Wizard's monotone three-word reply after Renee and Toby spend a good twenty minutes recounting everything Tom-related to him. Twice during the summation, Renee verged on breaking into tears again, and that unfamiliar anger returned, fluttering uncontrollably in Toby's chest like a reeled-in sardine flopping about for air.

"Stuck," Wizard repeats, when neither Toby or Renee say anything. "Time... is not a concept to him. He is in... a loop. Every day is new to him... different. He is not entirely human and does not possess human qualities... such as memory, the ability to hold conversation..."

Toby is about to object to this, because Tom's threats were clear as crystal. Except, he recalls, they weren't ever actually said to him. He heard them, but internally, soaked into him like a sponge.

"Does he even know he's...?" Renee gestures with her hand meaninglessly to finish her question.

"Dead?" Wizard supplies. Toby wonders if the fortune teller is bored by all this, sees their predicament as trivial and silly, ignorant humans that they are. "At times, perhaps... but likely his reasoning skills are...weak. Most spirits are like this.. .which is why they are so dangerous, as they are... emotional residue. They can... seep into you. However, all of them seek but one goal: to pass to other side..."

Toby likes the sound of that, of Tom passing to the other side, or any side that doesn't have Renee on it. Except...

"How are you supposed to help a ghost you can't talk to, or can't remember anything you say?" He probably sounds impatient, for the first time in his life. He is.

"There are... ways. Spells, or potions..." The Wizard moves to a cabinet overflowing with scrolls and parchments. "If you bring me the proper ingredients, then I could..."

"Yes!" Renee agrees without hesitation, and there's a sharp stab in Toby's chest. He tells himself that her desire to help Tom is more from the admiration of her great-grandmother, as well as Tom's manipulation of her feelings (not to mention his own, inadvertently), and not something genuinely connecting the two of them.

But he holds out the hope that ridding Tom from their lives will involve something not entirely painless, if ghosts could even feel pain at all.

What is happening to him? He's becoming no better than Tom, this sickening, terrible possessiveness that's constantly bobbing on the surface of every decision he makes.

"Death's Release." Wizard unbands a small, faded scroll, that is scribbled in undecipherable symbols that must make sense only to him. "It is a potion, used on the spirit's grave that causes the spirit to retain some of its humanity...and abilities. But do not be deceived; he would not truly be alive. While he may reacquire some of his... living traits, he would still be ruled by... what keeps him in the spiritual realm."

"So he'd still be dangerous?"

"Toby, he's not—" Renee starts, but Wizard provides the answer before Renee can finish her protest.

"Possibly. Possibly not. Each spirit... is different. There is no universal definition befitting of all spirits, other than their wish to find peace. Unfortunately, even with this spell... not all attempts to help spirits in their crossing are successful..."

It sounds simple enough. Too easy, the way Toby would normally like it, if it wasn't so obvious there had to be a catch somewhere.

"What... are the ingredients?" Toby remembers the summer before this one, when Kevin had to bring the Wizard a few things to create a potion to help the Witch. It hadn't exactly been a timely process, at least two weeks passing before Kevin could round up the proper items.

Wizard reads from his sheet. "Pontata Root, several blue herbs..."

Easy enough, Toby thinks, and the delighted smile on Renee's face shows she's on the same page.

"Soil from the decedent's grave..."

At first that's almost a deal breaker; he wants to go back to Tom's resting place one more time, and one time only, and that's to do away with him for good. But then he remembers that Tom only seemed to materialize when Renee was around. Otherwise, it was just any old cemetery. As long as Renee wasn't anywhere near by, it should be a cinch to scoop up a jar full of dirt.

"And... the DNA of the one who is to help him. Hair or saliva is usually what is provi—"

"The... o-one?"

"Yes." The Wizard lowers his scroll, his dichromatic eyes settling on Toby. "Only one may be tasked with this responsibility."

Toby's heart plummets like a fishing weight, except that usually meant a favorable outcome was imminent.

Somehow, he doesn't believe that will be the case here.


With a start, I find myself gasping—gasping!—for air, but nothing enters, and just as suddenly as it began, it stops and my world comes into focus.

My Anna has returned to me. At last!

When I move to be near her I stumble like a newborn calf, unaccustomed to how solid the ground is beneath my feet. Anna's hand is clasped over her mouth as she watches me. I nearly fall against her but right myself, knowing how ridiculous I must appear to her.

"You... you finally came back to me." I reach my hand to her face and when I do this, a certain image forms—that I have done this before.

"Tom..." Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath before popping them back open. And then I see that they are not the pools of sparkling blue that belonged to Anna. "I'm not...I 'm not Anna."

I don't want to believe her; there is so little conviction to her trembling words, I don't think she believes herself. So how am I to trust her? The answer comes as my palm cradles her cheek; I have no reason not to. I can feel it, a peculiar charge that rushes through me, that I don't want to ever go away.

"Anna was my... my mother's grandmother. She's been... dead for over twenty years. My name is Renee."

"Renee..." I hear the name come from my lips, unsure, as if I'm testing a new language. I repeat it, and then the rest of her words come crashing over me

I tear myself away from her, bringing my arm to my face to prevent her from seeing the anguish that has me in its clutches. I was always Anna's knight, her hero; she never saw me wracked in this much turmoil; no matter what was tormenting me, I remained her strong, steadfast rock. I can not allow Renee to view me in this state, either.

But oh!—if my Anna is gone, then that means... she did not love me to her dying breath, as she promised she would when we spoke of our plans to wed. I would have met her when she shuffled from the mortal plane onto mine, and would not be lingering here, a wretched, suffering, inhuman mess.

Letting out a great cry of frustration, I kick at my gravestone. It vibrates, and I see the scuff mark of a boot left behind. It must have been there before now; I couldn't have done that...could I?

"Tom! Tom, listen, it's okay. My great-grandmother loved you..." Renee takes me by both shoulders and my knees almost give way. I felt nothing from striking my gravestone, yet her hands on me... it's as if she has a power over not just my body but my soul as well, much like Anna had. Yet with Anna, it took years.

Even though sheer logic proves otherwise, I, again, instinctively trust her without any justification other than that she is the one telling me.

I compose myself enough to ask her to elaborate, and she tells me about Anna's diary. She describes the diary in detail, from its leather-bound cover to the number of pages it held, and the tiny, meticulous handwriting Anna filled it with.

How the fairytale-like accounts of our days together transformed into poems of grief, of tear-stained unfinished entries when I met my demise. Of the fifteen-year hiatus before strings of confessions that she never loved her new husband—the farmer who took over my ranch—even a fraction of the way she loved me, and how often she thought of taking her own life just to be with me again.

The only thing that kept her from doing so was the music box I presented her with only days before my death.

Even years later she could listen to it, close her eyes and remember us dancing to the waltz it played—our last dance. Though our last words to each other were argumentative, there was no denying, as Renee tells me is verbatim from Anna's diary, "true love did not end with death".

A flood of... of memories assault me without warning.

Distinctly, I can hear the music box's tune, the one-two-three, one-two-three pace as Anna and I swept around the open expanse of the barn floor, laughing as we bumped into disgruntled cows and sheep. I taste the sweetness of her lips as we found ourselves overcome with passion and toppled into the nearest haystack, shedding our clothes and inhibitions.

The lucidity of these images is astounding—after having laid dormant for so long, I find it remarkable that they're so vibrant.

Cautiously, I reach up to remove Renee's hand from my shoulder. The way that Anna's delicate hand fit so perfectly in mine... I can feel that as I weave Renee's fingers with my own. She stops abruptly in the middle of her sentence, her eyes—brown, not blue but equally as enchanting—peeled with wonder and I know , know she feels something too.

I've always been leery to consider magic, with the way V claimed she could and would use it on me (and finally, did), but there's no other explanation to how... alive I feel with her right now.

"The music box... if you have it, I want it. I... I need it." I need to hear it one more time—I know that doing so will be the key to sending me back to Anna—to where she is.

"I... I don't know where it is, Tom. I'll look for it, but I don't know when... or if..." She slips from my touch, turning her back to me as she sniffles. "I'm sorry..."

"Then..." I can't bear to see her so disheartened, as if it is her fault that the box is missing after all these years. I take her upper arm and face her back to me. The prospect of her agreeing—I know she will—to what I'm about to ask of her brings a lightness to my request and a smile to my face. "At least... in the meanwhile, promise to visit me. Please, Renee."

She nods, returning my smile with a shy, lip-biting one of her own.

The exact same one that Anna always sported, that I couldn't stop myself from falling in love with.


The only thing that hurts more than Toby's foot is his pride.

It was idiotic to kick Tom's gravestone when he collected the dirt for Wizard's potion three weeks ago. He knew this before he did it, as he was doing it, and especially now, with his pinkie toe broken and smarting every time he puts pressure on that side of his right foot.

It's nothing compared to the ever-growing hole forming inside him, every time Renee speaks about Tom.

It is sort of his fault; he only want happiness for Renee and being able to share the memories of her great-grandmother with Tom brings her just that.

She just wants to help Tom, she tells Toby whenever he makes her aware that Tom shouldn't be trusted, no matter how life-like the Wizard's potion has made him—he's still the deranged lunatic that hurt Kevin, that had no qualms about wishing death on him just because he was in Renee's company.

But Renee always wants to help everyone, it's part of who she is and why he loves her so much, but she does so without considering any of the risks, consequences of being so unfailingly dedicated to her endeavors. Not everyone deserves help, or would truly benefit from it.

He knows all the stories, either from Renee or her family or friends. How she broke her arm when they were thirteen, falling from the tree while picking apples at Marimba Farm because (even though Craig snapped that they didn't need it), she just wanted to help. When she was eight, Hanna shooed her away while milking cows. But Reneejust wanted to help and didn't listen, and ended up being kicked by a frightened Bessie, leaving her with a bruise that took all summer to fade.

One time before they were dating, Toby had been grounded for being out fishing way after curfew and Renee had stopped by the Fishery to help him with his punishment of cleaning the shop—just wanting to help, as always. He knew it wasn't a good idea to have her around, that Uncle Ozzie was already upset with him, and that she'd just be a distraction. But he never said no to her...

It turned out he was more of a distraction, and amid their juvenile attempts at flirting, Renee accidentally grabbed a rusty hook by the wrong end, and had to be escorted to the clinic for a tetanus shot.

All of this is nothing compared to what Tom could do to her if she's not careful because she's too invested in wanting to help his poor, wandering soul.

As it is, he can't bring himself to confess to Renee, or anyone other than Kevin, that he is actually jealous of a ghost—or whatever Tom is now, thanks to Wizard's spell. From everything Renee's mentioned, Tom was a successful farmer, as well as athletically skilled, fond of swimming (with Anna being fond of Tom in his swimming attire). And Toby has seen Tom with his own eyes; he can admit that, objectively, Tom is a classically good-looking guy: tall, with his straight nose, angled cheekbones and well-groomed hair.

"You're freaking out about this way too much," Kevin tells him, on one of the many days that Toby's stopped by, picking up the chores of animal brushing and feeding while Kevin's ribs heal. "How long have you two been together, now?"

"Since we were seventeen. Almost five years." Kevin's newest lamb, Jeanie, bleats at Toby, as if impressed.

"And you think some zombie jerk's going to get between you?"

Yes, that's exactly what I think. "I think some zombie jerk isn't going to have it any other way."

"Tobes, where's your faith in Renee? You think she'd let that happen?"

Toby makes a non-committal humming noise. Kevin is right. Renee is the one who is adamant about finding the music box, to help Tom return to the other side and to Anna, and as much time as Renee has spent with Tom, Toby can't imagine that it's gone by without mention that Renee herself has a someone in her life the way Tom had in Anna. If anything was going on (if it even could), it would have already.

After finishing grooming Jeanie, he bids Kevin goodbye and takes off for Horn Ranch, for another Wednesday of helping Renee comb the attic up, down and inside-out for the music box.

It's a bitterly cold Winter day, bone-chilling winds causing Toby's eyes to water and his nose to run. The Flute River is iced over, thin cracks webbing intricate designs throughout. He hopes its not this frigid tomorrow night, at the Starry Night Festival. He doesn't want his knee to go numb when he gets down on it and presents Renee with the Blue Feather that's currently locked in his dresser drawer.

He tells himself he'd be doing it regardless of Tom's existence—that ever since he met Renee when they were eleven, he knew that one day he'd be asking her to be his wife. This is the sort of thing he can't tell Kevin—just how deeply his love does run. Kevin is a guppy when it comes to relationships, Kathy being his first real girlfriend. He couldn't begin to fathom how heart-wrenching it is for Toby to, even hypothetically, imagine his life without Renee by his side.

But he knows, ultimately, if it means Renee's happiness, he'd let her go. What he doesn't know is what he'd do with himself.

It turns out, the one person who does understand is Anna.

After a dozen "No, be careful with that!"s and "Oh, that's expensive, don't touch that!"s, Toby's made himself comfortable on a dust-stained divan with Anna's diary as reading material. He knows when Renee gets herself committed to a project, sometimes the best assistance is just to stay out of her way, and that's what he's doing, as she dismantles an old bureau and rifles through a trunk spilling over with vintage jewelry and other feminine trinkets in search for the music box.

Renee insists that she had it as a little girl, that she remembers listening to it in her bedroom, but now she's not so sure—what if it was a different music box? How could one as valuable as Anna's just vanish into thin air?

So Toby offers to browse Anna's diary, perhaps gain a clue as to where it could be hidden. He has an ulterior motive: to learn more about Tom.

No one likes being wrong, Toby included, but he begrudgingly accepts it's better discovering via Anna's writings that Tom is every bit the shining example of chivalry Renee's made him out to be, as opposed to the unhinged demon and shameless playboy Toby's jealousy has painted him as.

The only tidbit that is even close to casting him in a negative light is that he attracted the attention of other girls on Castanet and wasn't always quick to turn them down, was content basking in their attention, much to Anna's chagrin. One, especially; a "V", who sounds like a real piece of work, a drama-exuding stalker.

Toby smirks to himself, amazed at how much he can relate to the situation of a twenty-year-old girl from approximately a hundred years ago. His smirk fades into a frown, when he reads the entry that's dated the day before Tom's death.

Anna can't believe that Tom skipped her mother's birthday dinner in order to pay this V girl a visit. Tom swears up and down that he hadn't intended to see V, that he was only around the forest chopping lumber needed to expand his coop, when V cornered him and—

With an exhausted sigh, Renee flops down onto the edge of the couch, letting her upper body fall onto Toby's. He sets the diary on the floor, and wraps his arms around her, kissing her forehead and promptly coughing from all the dust he inhales.

"I don't know what to do..." Renee whispers into Toby's shirt.

"How about..." Toby lazily runs his fingers through her hair. "I treat you to dinner at the Ocarina Inn." Is he trying too hard? It's been forever, it seems, since the two of them have been into Harmonica Town together, for more than a few minutes. He wonders if the other townspeople have noticed this as much as he has.

"I can't. Not tonight. I wouldn't be very good company." She doesn't sound disappointed, not like he is. Just distracted, and almost irritated that he asked in the first place, that he should have known better.

Toby sits up, relinquishing his embrace and brushing off the dust that's accumulated on his clothes. "Look, Renee, just let it go for now... for one day, please? You're going to make yourself sick over this."

She nods, and leans over to pick up the diary from the floor. "Okay... no luck in here?"

"No."

"Okay..." she repeats, hugging the ledger to her chest as she rises to her feet.

"I better get going before your parents wonder what we're really doing in here." He dips his head in for a kiss, and gains a quiet giggle from her. "See you tomorrow."

Toby waits for her goodbye but she just blinks at him once, twice. "...Tomorrow?"

"Yeah... the Starry Night Festival, remember?"

She drops her gaze to the floor, swiveling ever-so-slightly in place. She hasn't remembered.

"I... I already promised Tom that I'd come see him tomorrow night."

The words are like darts, each one pinning him harder than the last, all over his body. He swallows down the vitriolic reply that is fighting its way up—he does not want to say something he'll regret. He loves her. He loves her.

"I see him every Thursday night," she continues. "I just... I'm so sorry, Toby, I just forgot about the Starry Night Festival and—"

How could she forget it?! They'd spent every one together since they were twelve, with Renee and her parents selling hot cocoa from the porch at Horn Ranch. Before they were a couple, before being invited to salesman duty, he would buy two or three mugs a night, even though he hardly cared for the drink, just because he wanted his hand to graze hers as she sold it to him.

His jealousy breaks from its well-shielded confines. "Then tell him you can't, because you have plans with your boyfriend. I mean, geez, Renee, you see him Monday nights, and Tuesday afternoons, and don't forget nearly every Saturday and Sunday!"

"Toby, stop!" She makes a tiny squeaking noise and bites her lip, still refusing to look at him. "It doesn't... I promised him I'd visit him until I found the music box and the... Wizard's potion, I can't just... not. I'm scared, if I don't. And Tom doesn't... he doesn't know about you. As my boyfriend."

He can't even see straight, has to actively think about taking normal breaths. This is what it's like to be both so incredibly in love and in hate at the same time. "Sounds like you don't know about me as your boyfriend either, Renee."

There's the splitting crack of Renee's palm across his cheek, the thonk of the diary that's been thrown to the floor. She's glaring at him, and it's not a reaction he's ever elicited from her before, that anyone has. "You're an idiot. Did it ever occur to you he might hurt you if he knows? He doesn't have the... connection with you that he does with me, he might react how he did with Kevin! I missed meeting with him last Tuesday and he... Toby, he wasn't right. It was like he... regressed. I don't want it to happen again."

It's a fair point, but not one that Toby wants to accept right now. He massages his blazing cheek, his argument crumbling apart, despite his fervor to continue it, if only to guarantee that they'll be able to have tomorrow night together. "So... so what? What if you don't find the music box, then what? Are you going to just keep... seeing him and—"

"I'll find it. If it's the last thing I do, I'll find it. Because I don't want to keep seeing him."

He aches to tell her, But what about what Tom wants? Her eyes are still hardened, daring Toby to remain defiant, yet he sees the sparkle of forming tears; she's just as stung by the slap as he is.

Unable to bear seeing her like this, Toby's resolve collapses, and he takes a tentative half-step towards her. Her postures loses its stiffness, and she lets him pull her into a hug. "You know, Paolo's been complaining for years about going to the Festival with his dad. I should save him from such a fate. Maybe I could... double-up on his wish, whatever it is, maybe then it'll come true."

"I bet he'd like that. But what about yours?" Renee rubs her face into Toby's shirt, leaving dots of moisture from her eyes.

"It came true years ago..." He feels her sigh with contentment, and curl tighter into him before he adds, "Remember, I caught that Pacific Halibut when I was deep sea fishing with Pascal when I was sixteen?"

Laughing, Renee flails her arms in a fruitless attempt to give him a playful shove, but he snares her arms and stabilizes her with a kiss that doesn't end as he backs her to the nearest wall.


Renee and I are sitting next to each other, leaning back against my gravestone and staring up at the sky. She is shivering, even bundled up in her wool coat and knit cap. Alas, there is nothing I could provide to her, or I would.

With every visit, I find myself reminded of my love for Anna, and there is a part of me, growing larger each time, that is almost comforted knowing she's been unable to locate the music box.

More and more, I find myself reluctant to give up this form. I am terrified when I wonder what it will be like when I do pass to... wherever I would go next. If I were to meet with Anna again, would we be able to speak to each other, to touch and laugh and kiss as we did in life?

Even if this is not quite being alive, it is much preferable to what Renee tells me I was before: nothing short of a monster. Was it because of the hex V placed on me before my death, that I became that way, so vindictive and restless?

Renee truly, is less Anna's great-granddaughter and likely Anna herself, reborn. She brought me back out of the sincerest compassion and desire to help me, a man she hardly knew yet, she claims, felt a nameless, unbreakable link to. I, of course, can not recall this initial meeting, other than the vaguest flashes that I must have known, met Renee before that night, although it is likely only grainy retrospect of my days with Anna.

As the stars twinkle above us, the only thing brighter is the awe shining in Renee's eyes while she watches. I inch closer to her, putting my arm around her in an entirely casual manner. "Did you know Anna and I... our first kiss was at the Starry Night Festival?"

"Yes," she cups her mittened hand to her mouth to try and muffle a giggle. "She described it in her diary, along with other... activities that followed."

If I were able to blush, I would. I am not embarrassed of how intimate Anna and I were, despite not having been married. However, it was a topic I would discuss with my male friends—I would dare not speak of such actions in front of a lady.

"Yes, well..." I search for a way to steer the conversation into a less vulgar subject, but Renee takes the reins.

"My first kiss was..." She pauses, and I still as well. I hadn't quite considered the possibility that she too would have a suitor, although it would hardly be shocking that any of the young men on the island would be taken with her. She has mentioned many male friends: Toby, Kevin, Chase, Luke...I only know them through the stories she tells of their antics, but that is enough for me to know that they are not worthy of her affections.

"Y-Yes?" I stammer, if only because—oh, Anna, I'm so sorry—I would like to place myself in the shoes of whatever lucky young man was so privileged to give Renee her first kiss.

She plays with the hem of her coat, not meeting my curious stare. "It was...sweet. Literally, sweet. ...I gave him shortcake for Winter Harmony Day and he tried it, said it was good, thanked me. And then... when I said 'You're welcome,' he just...kissed me."

He sounds like a woefully immature boy, not the man that Renee deserves. I say nothing, however, because of the dreamy smile she is wearing. Some nights, warm and secure in my bed after making love, Anna would give me the same look. Whoever this boy is that Renee gave cake to and had the gall to not even ask permission before kissing her means he is something that she has, until now, refrained from sharing with me.

It is absolutely maddening.

Just then, there's a spray of light above us: shooting stars. I bring her body closer to mine. She gasps, and I see in her eyes surprise, but also an unbridled excitement.

"Make a wish," I tell her, and cover her lips with my own.


Toby trudges away from Moon Hill with his hands shoved in his pockets, taking care to not give a damn about how much it makes his foot hurt to stomp so hard, or how his ears are so cold that they're burning.

It'd been a perfectly acceptable Starry Night Festival with Paolo, his little cousin praising Toby both for letting him stay up for the whole festival—a lot later than Ozzie ever would—and for buying him hot cocoa with extra whipped cream on top.

That was, until Kevin and Kathy showed up. Then they were the super-cool ones, and Toby was just Paolo's boring cousin. And Toby got that whole ten-year-old mentality, he did. He just wished either Kathy or, especially, Kevin would have had the loyalty to say something to Paolo, instead of just allowing Paolo to come tag along with them, without any reservation. As if they agreed with his judgment of Toby wholeheartedly.

Then again, they didn't know that his plans to meet Renee at the lighthouse this year were off, and probably just assumed they were doing him a favor, getting Paolo out of his hair so he could go into town as soon as possible.

The night sky gleams and flickers, and then the streak of the shooting star causes him pause, right at the edge of the Flute Bridge. He blinks up at it, making his wish as quickly as possible.

IwantReneetomarrymeIwantReneetomarrymeIwantTomtoleaveusaloneforever.

He winces at how unrestrained his loathing is, how interwoven it is with his love for Renee. It turns his stomach that he can so easily envision himself swinging his fishing rod furiously into Tom's side, and immediately Anna's diary springs to mind. She'd never been anything more than even-keel, not until V wouldn't back off Tom.

"Move it or lose it!" A voice bites at him, a split-second before its owner collides with him, knocking him to the brittle, frosted grass.

On the ground across from him, her amber eyes glowing dangerously is the Fugue Witch. Toby scuttles backwards out of instinct, having heard too many rumors about her temperament, as well as her thirst to wreak havoc on any human that crosses her—and he's pretty certain bumping into her is enough to qualify him as just that.

But she just stands with an indignant hmph, smoothing out the heavy wool cape that's wrapped around her, and adjusts her black satin-trimmed hat. "Oh. It's just you, Tony. Good, I was looking for you anyway."

That can't possibly be good, but he's so stricken with a mix of fear and confusion, that he can only manage to correct her. "T-Toby." Who careswhat she calls him, as long as she doesn't curse him into oblivion.

"Whatever. I didn't recognize you without your Plain Jane. She out trolloping around with good ol' Tom?" She spits his name with such venom, Toby almost smiles.

The confusion that she would even know about Tom is evident in his lack of reply, his willingness to just gape at her stupidly instead of pressing his luck by doing something foolish like talking to her.

"What, you think I don't see what's goin' on all over this putrid island? C'mon, get up, I'm not gonna hurt you." She proffers a hand, which Toby takes; her grip is strong, for someone of such small stature. "I see and know everything, kid. I know that the fat-ass Mayor dances around in his underwear when he's home alone and I know that his goofball son still sucks his thumb in his sleep. I know that dancer fakes it whenever that retarded carpenter bangs her. And I know what Tom is up to, and even though you were dumb enough to go to the Wizard first, I'm willing to reallyhelp you. If you help me."