Here's the thing about mediators:
We're hard to kill.
"Thank God," Helen cried out, "or I would be childless long before this."
I'm serious. You wouldn't believe the number of times I've been knocked down, dragged, stomped on, punched, kicked, bitten, clawed, whacked on the head, held underwater, shot at, and, oh, yeah, thrown off roofs.
Helen barely managed to choke all of this out – how could she have missed all of this?
But have I ever died? Have I ever sustained a life-threatening injury?
"By the sound of it plenty of times but death no," Andy muttered.
No. I've broken bones - plenty of them. I've got scars galore.
"They're so cool," Brad admitted a little reluctantly.
"Not the time," Jake said watching their stepmother warily.
But the fact is, whoever - or whatever - created us mediators did give us one natural weapon, at least, in our fight against the undead. No, not superhuman strength, though that would have been handy.
"And painful," Brad muttered darkly just picturing the punch Suze would have given him if she had superhuman strength.
No, what we've got, Father Dom and I - and Jack, too, probably, although I doubt he's had an opportunity to test it out yet –
"God, I hope not! The poor kid has been through enough as it is!"
Is a hide tough enough to take all the abuse that gets heaped on us and then some.
"But you shouldn't have to!" Helen exclaimed.
Which was why even though by rights a fall like the one I took should have killed me, it didn't. Not even close.
Everyone shuddered and thanked God.
Not, of course, that Maria de Silva and her paramour didn't think they'd been successful. They must have, or they'd have stuck around to finish the job. But when I woke up hours later, groggy and with a headache you would not believe, they were nowhere to be seen.
"Idiots."
Clearly, I had won the first round. Well, in a manner of speaking, anyway. I mean, I wasn't dead, and that, in my book, is always a plus.
"It shouldn't have to be, it should be a fact that, as a teenager, you take for granted," Helen said sadly.
What I was was concussed. I knew right away because I get them all the time. Concussions, I mean.
"WHAT?!"
Well, all right, twice.
"That doesn't make it better!"
Anyway, it's not so pleasant, being concussed. Basically, you feel pukey and sore all over, but, not surprisingly, your head really hurts more than anything. In my case, it was even worse in that I'd been lying at the bottom of that hole for so long, the dew had had a chance to fall. It had collected on my clothes and soaked them through and made them feel very heavy. So dragging myself out of that pit Andy and Dopey had dug became a real chore.
Andy and Brad flinched at that while Helen muttered quietly to herself about Suze needing to see a doctor.
In fact, it was dawn before I finally managed to let myself back into the house - thank God Sleepy had left the front door unlocked when he'd come in from his big date.
Helen and Andyslowly turned round and glared at their sheepish eldest, "C'mon," he argued, "it's Carmel – nothing bad is going to happen!"
"You don't know that!" Helen shrieked.
"In future, son, I would like you to lock up," Andy said firmly.
Still, I had to climb all those stairs. It was pretty slow going. At least when I got to my room and was finally able to peel off all of my sodden, muddy clothes, I didn't have to worry, for once, about Jesse seeing me in my altogether.
"Good," Jake muttered, foolishly hoping that Jesse would never see Suze in her altogether.
Because of course Jesse was gone.
Jake then felt guilty; he didn't want his sister to be heartbroken.
I tried not to think about that as I crawled into bed and shut my eyes. This strategy - the not-thinking-about-Jesse-being-gone strategy - seemed to work pretty well. I was asleep, I think, before that thought had really had a chance to sink in again.
"I think that had something to do with the concussion not the strategy," David murmured worriedly.
I didn't wake up until well past eight. Apparently Sleepy had tried to get me up for work, but I was too far gone.
"And Dad wouldn't let me throw water on her," Jake grumbled.
They let me sleep in, I guess, because they all assumed I was still upset about what had happened the day before, about the skeleton they'd found in the backyard.
"Well she was!"
I only wish that was all I had to be upset about.
"Oh Susie," Helen sighed mournfully.
When the phone rang a little after nine and Andy called up the stairs that it was for me, I was already up, standing in my bathroom in my sweats, examining the enormous bruise that had developed beneath my bangs.
Helen shuddered, she hated that bruise. Thank God, the doctor saw nothing worrying.
I looked like an alien.
Jake and Brad snorted at that.
I'm not kidding. It was a wonder, really, I hadn't broken my neck.
Everyone flinched at the idea.
I was convinced that Maria and her boyfriend thought that's exactly what I'd done. It was the only reason I was still alive. The two of them were so cocky, they hadn't stuck around to make sure I was well and truly dead.
"And thank God, or we would be reading something else entirely," Andy said.
They'd obviously never met a mediator before. It takes a lot more than a fall off a roof to kill one of us.
"Susannah." Father Dominic's voice, when I picked up the phone, was filled with concern. "Thank God you're all right. I was so worried . . . But you didn't, did you? Go to the cemetery last night?"
"No thankfully," Helen murmured.
"No," I said. There hadn't been any reason to go there, in the end. The cemetery had come to me.
But I didn't say that to Father D.
"Probably give him a heart attack if she did," Jake muttered.
Instead, I asked, "Are you back in town?"
"I'm back. You didn't tell them, did you? Your family, I mean."
"No," Helen frowned.
"Um," I said, uncertainly.
"Clever," Brad muttered.
"Susannah, you must. You really must. They have a right to know. We're dealing with a very serious haunting here. You could be killed, Susannah - "
Everyone shuddered – could there be a new topic in these books, one that didn't revolve round murder and violence?
I refrained from mentioning that I'd actually already come pretty close.
"Definitely give him a heart attack if she did."
At that moment, the call waiting went off. I said, "Father D, can you hold on a second?" and hit the receiver.
"I bet Father D hates that thing," Brad grinned.
A high-pitched, vaguely familiar voice spoke in my ear, but for the life of me, I could not place it right away.
"Cee Cee?" Jake asked.
"No, I don't think so," David shook his head, "Suze would know straight away."
"Suze? Is that you? Are you all right? Are you sick or something?"
"Um," I said, extremely puzzled. "Yeah. I guess. Sort of. Who is this?"
The voice said, very indignantly, "It's me! Jack!"
"Oh!"
Oh, God. Jack. Work. Right.
"Jack," I said. "How did you get my home number?"
"The phone book?" Brad suggested dryly.
"You gave it to Paul," Jack said. "Yesterday. Don't you remember?"
"She gave our number to that creeper!"
I did not, of course. All I could really remember from yesterday was that Clive Clemmings was dead, Jesse's portrait was missing ...
And that Jesse, of course, was gone. Forever.
Oh, and the whole part where the ghost of Felix Diego tried to split my head open.
Brad snorted, "How did that become an afterthought?"
"My daughter needs to sort out her priorities," Helen sighed.
"Oh," I said. "Yeah. Okay. Look, Jack, I have someone on the other - "
"Suze," Jack interrupted. "You were supposed to teach me to do underwater somersaults today."
Jake and Brad goggled at the book, Suze knew how to do underwater somersaults? Since when was she so awesome?
"I know," I said. "I'm really sorry. I just ... I just really couldn't face coming in to work today, bud. I'm sorry. It's nothing against you or anything. I just really need a day off."
"Good," Andy said gently, "the kid needs reassurance."
"You sound so sad," Jack said, sounding pretty sad himself. "I thought you'd be really happy."
"Eh?"
"You did?" I wondered if Father D was still waiting on the other line or if he'd hung up in a huff. I was, I realized, treating him pretty badly. After all, he'd cut his little retreat short for me. "How come?"
"On account of how I - "
That's when I saw it. Just the faintest glow, over by the daybed. Jesse? Again my heart gave one of those lurches. It was really getting pathetic, how much I kept hoping, every time I saw the slightest shimmer, that it would be Jesse.
"Oh Susie," Helen sighed.
It wasn't.
It wasn't Maria or Diego either - thank God. Surely not even they would be bold enough to try to take a whack at me in broad daylight...
"Cowards," Jake muttered.
"Jack," I said, into the phone. "I have to go."
"Wait, Suze, I - "
But I'd hung up. That's because sitting there on my daybed, looking deeply unhappy, was Dr. Clive Clemmings, Ph.D.
Just my luck: Wish for a Jesse. Get a Clive.
Everyone snorted, they couldn't help it.
"Oh," he said, blinking behind the lenses of his Coke-bottle-bottom glasses. He seemed almost as surprised to see me as I was to see him materialize there in my bedroom. "It's you ."
"How polite," David muttered.
I just shook my head. Sometimes my bedroom feels like Grand Central Station.
"It better not be," Andy muttered, "I don't want ghosts there every minute disrupting her sleep and studying."
"Well, I simply didn't - " Clive Clemmings fiddled with his bow tie. "I mean, when they said I should contact a mediator, I didn't ... I mean, I never expected - "
" - that the mediator would be me," I finished for him. "Yeah. I get that a lot."
"She isn't exactly mystical and awe-inspiring, is she?" Andy agreed in amusement.
"It's only," Clive said, apologetically, "that you're so ..."
I just glared at him. I really wasn't in the mood. Can you blame me? What with the concussion, and all?
"Then go to the doctors!" Helen snapped.
"That I'm so what?" I demanded. "Female? Is that it? Or are you going to try to convince me you're shocked by my preternatural intelligence?"
"Oh come on! Just 'cause he called you Miss Ackerman doesn't make the guy a sexist!" Brad protested.
"Err," Clive Clemmings said. "Young. I meant that ... it's just that you're so young."
"See!"
"Poor bloke," Jake agreed.
I sank down onto the window seat. Really, what had I ever done to deserve this? I mean, nobody wants to be visited by the spectre of a guy like Clive. I'm almost positive nobody ever wanted him to visit when he was alive. So why me?
"Susannah!"
Oh, yeah. The mediator thing.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Clive?" I probably should have called him Dr. Clemmings, but I had too much of a headache to be respectful of my elders.
"I'll forgive her just this once," Andy said.
"Well, I hardly know," Clive said. "I mean, suddenly, Mrs. Lambert - that's my receptionist, don't you know? - she isn't answering when I call her, and when people telephone for me, well, she tells them . . . the most horrible thing, actually. I simply don't know what's come over her." dive cleared his throat. "You see, she's saying that I'm - "
"Dead," I finished for him.
Clive eyes grew perceptibly bigger behind his glasses.
"Poor man," Andy sighed, "no one expects this."
"Why," he said, "that's extraordinary. How could you know that? Well, yes, of course, you are the mediator, after all. They said you'd understand. But really, Miss Ackerman, I've had the most trying few days. I don't feel at all like myself, and I - "
"That," I interrupted him, "is because you're dead."
"Susannah!"
Ordinarily, I might have been a little nicer about it, but I guess I still felt a little kernel of resentment toward old Clive for his cavalier dismissal of my suggestion that Jesse might have been murdered.
Helen just shook her head.
"But that's not possible," Clive said. He tugged on his bow tie. "I mean, look at me. I am clearly here. You are speaking to me -"
"Yeah," I said. "Because I'm a mediator, Clive. That's my job. To help people like you move on after they've . . . you know." Since he clearly did not know, I elaborated: "Croaked."
Clive blinked rapidly several times in succession. "I ... I ... Oh, dear."
"Poor bloke," Jake murmured. Everyone seemed to be suffering in this one – Jack, Suze, Jesse, Brad, and now Clive.
"Yeah," I said. "See? Now let's see if we can figure out why you're here and not in happy historian heaven. What's the last thing you remember?"
Brad snorted, "Historian heaven," he muttered.
"Yes," David said dreamily, "wouldn't it be wonderful if it was next door to scientist heaven, all that knowledge..."
"Weirdo," Brad muttered.
"David I would prefer it if you didn't talk about dying like that," Andy said, "and Brad stop calling your brother a weirdo."
Clive dropped his hand from his chin. "Pardon?"
"What's the last thing you remember," I repeated, "from before you found yourself . . . well, invisible to Mrs. Lambert?"
"Oh." Clive reached up to scratch his bald head. "Well, I was sitting at my desk, and I was looking at those letters you brought me. Quite kind of your stepfather to think of us. People so often overlook their community's historical society, when you know, really, without us, the fabric of the local lore would be permanently - "
"Clive," I said. I knew I sounded cranky, but I couldn't help it. "Look, I haven't even had breakfast yet. Can you get a move on, please?"
"Thank God," Brad muttered quietly in relieve. He couldn't stand another David-like lecture.
"Oh." He blinked some more. "Yes. Of course. Well, as I was saying, I was examining the letters you brought me. Ever since you left my office the other day, I've been thinking about what you said ... about Hector de Silva, I mean. It does seem a bit unlikely that a fellow who wrote so lovingly of his family would simply walk out on them without a word. And the fact that you found Maria's letters buried in the yard of what was once a well-known boarding-house . . . Well, I must say, upon further consideration, the whole thing struck me as extremely odd. I'd picked up my Dictaphone and was just making a few notes for Mrs. Lambert to type up later when I suddenly felt . . . well, a chill. As if someone had turned the air-conditioning up very high. Although I can assure you Mrs. Lambert knows better than that. Some of our artefacts must be kept in highly controlled atmospheric climates, and she would never -"
"It wasn't the air-conditioning," David said flatly. He had his suspicions.
"It wasn't the air-conditioning," I said flatly.
He stared at me, clearly startled. "No. No, it wasn't. Because a moment later, I caught the faintest whiff of orange blossoms. And you know Maria Diego was quite well-known for wearing orange blossom-scented toilet water. It was so odd. Because a second later, I could swear that for a moment ..." The look in his eyes, behind the thick lenses of those glasses, grew faraway. "Well, for a moment, I could have sworn I saw her. Just out of the corner of my eye. Maria de Silva Diego ..."
"DAMN!"
"JAKE!"
"Sorry, but still!"
The faraway look left his eyes. When his gaze next fastened onto mine, it was laser sharp.
"And then I felt," he told me, in a tightly controlled voice, "a shooting pain, all up and down my arm. I knew what it was, of course. Congenital heart disease runs in my family. It killed my grandfather, you know, shortly after his book was first published. But I, unlike him, have been extremely diligent with my diet and exercise regimen. It could only have been the shock, you know, of seeing - thinking I was seeing anyway - something that wasn't - that couldn't possibly - " He broke off, then continued, "Well, I reached for the telephone to call 911 at once, but it ... well, the telephone sort of ... leaped off my desk."
"Jesus," Andy muttered.
I just looked at him. I had to admit, by this time I was feeling sorry for him. I mean, he had been murdered, just like Jesse. And by the same hand, too. Well, more or less.
"I couldn't reach it," Clive said sadly. "The telephone, I mean. And that . . . that's the last thing I remember."
"Poor bloke."
I licked my lips. "Clive," I said. "What were you saying? Into the Dictaphone. Right before you saw her. Maria de Silva, I mean."
"What was I saying? Oh, of course. I was saying that though it would bear further investigation, it did seem to me as if what you suggested, and what my grandfather always believed, might possibly have merit..."
"Damn," Jake whispered, "just when he could have made it big in the history world and he gets murdered by his own study."
I shook my head. I couldn't believe it.
"Neither can I," Jake agreed.
"She killed you," I murmured.
"Oh." Clive was no longer blinking or tugging on his bow tie. He just sat there, looking like a scarecrow somebody had pulled the pole out from under. "Yes. I suppose you could say that. But only in a manner of speaking. I mean, it was the shock, after all. But it's not as if she -"
"No it was definitely on purpose," David grumbled.
"To keep you from telling anyone what I said." In spite of my headache, I was getting mad all over again. "And she probably killed your grandfather, too, the same way."
"God, what a foul woman," Andy muttered.
Clive did blink then, questioningly. "My . . . my grandfather? You think so? Well, I must say ... I mean, his death was rather sudden, but there was no sign of - " His expression changed. "Oh. Oh, I see. You think my grandfather was killed by the ghost of Maria de Silva Diego to keep him from writing further about his theory concerning her cousin's disappearance?"
"No duh," Brad said.
"That's one way of putting it," I said. "She didn't want him going around telling the truth about what happened to Jesse."
"Jesse?" Clive echoed. "Who is Jesse?"
We were both nearly startled out of our wits by a sudden knock on my door.
"Sorry," Andy grinned sheepishly.
"Suze?" my stepfather called. "Can I come in?"
Clive, in a flurry of agitation, dematerialized. I said come in, and the door opened, and Andy stood there, looking awkward. He never comes into my room, except occasionally to fix things.
Andy sighed, he wished that he held a better relationship with his stepdaughter, on here he could open up to him and feel comfortable pending time with him. He adored her and wanted to be a second father to her (for he would never replace her birth father) but instead it seemed that Father Dominic had taken that place and he was just an unwanted intrusion.
"Uh, Suze?" he said. "Yeah, urn, you have a visitor. Father Dominic is -"
Andy didn't finish because Father Dominic appeared just behind him.
I can't really explain why I did what I did then. There is no other explanation for it other than the simple fact that, well, in the six months I'd known him, I'd come to really feel something for the old guy.
Andy tried not to glower at the book but failed.
In any case, at the sight of him, I jumped up from the window seat, completely involuntarily, and hurled myself at him. Father Dominic looked more than a little surprised at this unbridled display of emotion, as I am normally somewhat reserved.
Helen took Andy's hand, she knew how much he wanted to be someone Suze turned to.
"Oh, Father D," I said, into Father Dominic's shirtfront. "I'm so glad to see you."
Andy tightened his grip on Helen's hand.
I was, too. Finally – finally - some normalcy was returning to my world, which seemed to have gone into a complete tailspin in the past twenty-four hours. Father Dominic was back. Father Dominic would take care of everything. He always did. Just standing there with my arms around him and my head against his chest, smelling his priestly smell, which was of Woolite and, more faintly, the cigarette he'd snuck in the car on his way over, I felt like everything was going to be all right.
"Whoa! Father D smoked?!" Brad yelped.
"Unbelievable!"
"God, he must be worried!" Helen cried out fearfully. She had hoped Father Dominic would be so confident about everything and sort it all out for her daughter and it will be all over just like that.
"Oh," Father Dominic said. I could feel his voice reverberating inside his chest, along with the small noises his stomach was making as it digested whatever it was he'd scarfed down for breakfast. "Dear."
"Poor Father Dom," Jake grinned.
Father Dom patted me awkwardly on the shoulder.
Behind us, I heard Dopey say, "What's with her ?"
Brad shrank away from the pointed looks and glares, he knew he hadn't been supportive and comforting but how could, he? It was Suze! She was never tearful and weak, he liked being the stronger one for once!
Andy told him to be quiet.
"Aw, come on," Dopey said. "She can't still be upset over that stupid skeleton we found. I mean, that kind of thing shouldn't bother the Queen of the Night Peo - "
"I'm sorry!" Brad shouted at the glares. "I didn't mean it!"
"You better apologise to Suze," Andy said sternly.
"I will!" Brad cried out.
Dopey broke off with a cry of pain. I glanced around Father D's shoulder and saw Andy pulling his second-oldest son down the hallway by the rim of his ear.
"Good," David muttered. He had been disgusted with his brother's attitude.
"Cut it out, Dad," Dopey was bellowing. "Ow! Dad, cut it out!"
A door slammed. Down the hall in Dopey's room, Andy was reading him the riot act.
I let go of Father D.
"You've been smoking," I said.
"Just a little," he admitted. Seeing my expression, he shrugged helplessly. "Well, it was a long drive. And I was certain that by the time I got here, I'd find you all murdered in your beds.
Helen shuddered and held on tighter to Andy's hand, who grimaced, meanwhile the boys all shivered at the images that conjured though they were all relieved to know David would live at least. Unharmed.
You really have the most alarming way, Susannah, of getting yourself into scrapes..."
"You're telling me," Helen muttered.
"I know." I sighed, and went to sit on the window seat, circling one knee with my arms. I was in sweats, and I hadn't bothered putting on makeup or even washing my hair. What was the point?
"Girls," the three boys muttered.
Father D didn't seem to notice my heinous appearance. He went on, as if we were back in his office, discussing student government fund-raising, or something completely innocuous like that, "I've brought some holy water. It's in my car. I'll tell your stepfather that you asked me to bless the house, on account of yesterday's, err, discovery. He might wonder at your suddenly embracing the Church, but you'll just have to start insisting upon saying grace at supper time - or perhaps even attending Mass from time to time - to convince him of your sincerity.
"Did she?" Jake asked. He couldn't recall Suze being religious in any sense.
"She goes to mass on Sundays still though I suspect that is to spend time with Jesse," Andy said thoughtfully. "And of course she claims a need for confession but that is so she can talk to Father Dominic."
"I think Susie has become more religious though," Helen added. "Just not in a traditional sense."
I've been doing a bit of reading on those two - Maria de Silva and this Diego person - and they were quite devout. Murderers, it appears, but also churchgoers. They will, I think, be quite reluctant to enter a home that has been sanctified by a priest." Father Dominic looked down at me with concern. "It's what could happen when you set foot anywhere outside this house that's worrying me. The minute you - Good heavens, Susannah."
Any relieve everyone held faded rapidly at that.
Father Dominic broke off and peered down at me curiously. "What on earth happened to your forehead?"
I reached up and touched the bruise beneath my bangs.
"Oh," I said, wincing a little. The wound was still tender. "Nothing. Look, Father D - "
"Nothing my arse," Brad grumbled, his stupid, Queen of the night people, sister needed to learn the difference between nothing and a concussion.
"That isn't nothing." Father Dominic took a step forward, then inhaled sharply. "Susannah! Where in heaven's name did you get that nasty bruise?"
"Diego paid a visit," Jake growled.
"It's nothing," I said, scraping my bangs down over my eyes. "It's just a little token of Felix Diego's esteem."
"Esteem," David snorted.
"That mark is hardly nothing," Father Dominic declared. "Susannah, has it occurred to you that you might have a concussion? We should have that x-rayed immediately - "
"Thank God for Father Dominic," Helen mumbled. Truly grateful that there was someone who looked out for her daughter when she and Andy couldn't.
"Father Dominic - "
"No arguments, Susannah," Father D said. "Put some shoes on. I'm going to go have a word with your stepfather, and then we're going down to the Carmel Hosp - "
"Why didn't he?" Andy frowned.
The phone jangled noisily. I told you. Grand Central Station. I picked it up, mostly to give myself time to think of an excuse why I didn't need to go to the hospital. A trip to the emergency room was going to require a story about how I'd come to obtain this latest injury, and frankly, I was running out of good lies.
Everyone sighed at that. Suze shouldn't have to lie, she shouldn't have to go to the hospital either.
"Hello?" I said into the receiver while Father D scowled down at me.
"Well she is being rude," Andy muttered in agreement.
"Suze?" That all-too-familiar high-pitched little voice. "It's me again. Jack."
"God what does the kid want now?" Jake muttered tiredly. He just wanted this book to end now.
"Jack," I said, tiredly. "Look, I told you before. I'm really not feeling well -"
"That's just it," Jack said. "I got to thinking that maybe you hadn't heard. And then I thought I'd call and tell you. Because I know you'll feel better when I tell you."
"Unless it's Jesse coming back, I doubt it," Andy said sadly.
"Tell me what, Jack?"
"About how I mediated that ghost for you," Jack said.
"Did he get rid of Maria?" Brad asked hopefully.
God, my head was pounding. I was so not in the mood for this. "Oh, yeah? What ghost was that, Jack?"
"You know," Jack said. "That guy who was bugging you. That Hector guy."
"Oh no," Helen gasped.
"Shit," Jake swore.
"Poor kid," Andy moaned, "he's been tricked."
I nearly dropped the phone. I did drop it, actually, but I flung out my hands and caught the receiver before it hit the floor. Then I held it back up to my ear with both hands so I would be sure not to drop it again - and make certain I was hearing him right. I did all this with Father Dominic watching me.
"Jack," I said, feeling like all the wind had been knocked out of me. "What are you talking about?"
"That guy," Jack said. His childish lisp had gone indignant. "You know, the one who wouldn't leave you alone. That lady Maria told me- "
"Fuck," Jake muttered. No one told him off since it summed up their feelings exactly.
"Maria?" I had forgotten all about my headache, all about Father Dom. I practically yelled into the phone, "Jack, what are you talking about? Maria who?"
"That old-fashioned lady ghost," Jack said, sounding taken aback. And why not? I was shouting like a lunatic.
"Poor kid," Andy mumbled.
"The nice one whose picture was in that bald guy's office. She told me that this Hector guy – the one from the other picture, the little picture - as bugging you, and that if I wanted to give you a nice surprise, I should exer - I should exor - I should -"
"What an idiot," David muttered. It was so obvious that Maria as lying. His respect and sympathy went down a little for Jack because of this. He had broken Suze's heart.
"Exorcise him?" My knuckles had gone white around the receiver. "Exorcise him, Jack? Is that what you did?"
"Yeah," Jack said, sounding pleased with himself. "Yeah, that's what it was. I exorcised him."
"I want to smack the brat," Jake growled.
"Jake!" Andy scolded. "It's not the kid's fault! He had been tricked by a sneaky and vile woman!"
"Well that's the end of that entry," Helen sighed, "your turn, Jake."