8
On her way down the hall Mary grabbed the heavy vase off the entry table, took out the flowers, and tossed them in the wastebasket. The vase was more than half-full of slimy water. She yanked open the front door and marched out onto the porch, then across the lawn, all the while muttering The Lord's Prayer over the vase. Improvised holy water was better than nothing.
"Our Father who art in Heaven," she muttered, her voice giving a tiny echo, "hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come…uh….deliver us from evil. And forgive us our trespasses. For yours is the glory forever, amen."
Some of that was wrong, she was sure, but she hoped it was close enough. By the time she'd got to amen she was almost upon her parents and her bedeviled sister.
The Lydia-thing was lying on the grass with its arms outstretched. Its eyes were closed and its face was tilted toward the sun. Dad and Mother were in the wicker chairs nearby. They looked up when Mary approached but she blew right past them.
When the Lydia-thing sensed her it opened its eyes and sat up a little, propped up on its elbows. It smiled at her, all cheerful and beaming. "Why, hello, Mary-"
Mary dumped the entire vase of water into its upturned face.
"Get out of my sister, Emily!" she shouted as the Lydia-thing sputtered and wiped at its eyes. It stared up at Mary in shock. "That's holy water! Kind of! You get out right now and leave her alone! I command you!"
"Mary!" Mother cried, kneeling beside Lydia on the ground. She took Dad's proffered handkerchief and wiped at her face. "What's got into you?"
"Nothing!" Mary said. "It's what's got into Lydia!"
Dad took her by the elbow and gently pulled her away a couple steps, taking the empty vase from her as he did so. "What are you talking about, Mary?" he asked.
"Dad, I did the séance," she admitted. "I'm sorry. I know you told me not to but I did it anyway and it worked. A ghost came. I swear. It was right in my room."
Dad didn't say anything, but his eyebrows lowered. Not quite his full angry eyebrows, where he lowered them so much they went straight across, but close. Mother still knelt beside Lydia, one arm about her shoulders, holding her hand. Her expression was unreadable. The Lydia-thing still just looked shocked.
"And then Lydia poked her head in," Mary continued. "Lydia came in to tell me Mother was home and then boom! The ghost was gone and Lydia had a headache and felt sick. And then she fainted and now she's all weird. I was safe because I was in a salt circle. It would've been me otherwise! It should've been me! It was an accident, I'm not Baumgartner-"
"You're not a what?" Mother asked, brow furrowed, but Mary ignored her.
"I only just now realized who it is!" Mary cried. She pointed a dramatic finger at the wet and pathetic Lydia-thing on the ground next to Mother. "It's the corpse bride! Dad, the dead woman! Who else would it be, hanging around our family as a spirit? She answered me just like she answered you! She's the ghost, and she's in Lydia, she's trying to get into Liddie's life and your life but Lydia is still in there and we need to help! We need to get the corpse bride's ghost out and save Lydia! I need to fix this!"
It was only when Mary stopped to catch her breath that she realized how high and thin her voice had become. She sounded like a crazy person. Dad's face softened and he took a deep breath. His hand on her elbow loosened. He reached and set the vase on the small wicker table. Then he sat back down in his chair and drew Mary toward him. To her surprise, he sat her on his knee, his arms loosely around her. He hadn't done this in ages, she was really too old for it. But Dad's lap was a very comforting place to be just now.
"It's not a ghost, Mary," Dad said. His voice was so soft and gentle and Dad-ish that it made Mary want to cry. "No, listen to me. It is not a ghost, and it most certainly is not Emily. Don't you remember what I said to you last night?"
"Not to pester the dead," Mary mumbled.
"Well, yes," he replied. "But I also said that ghosts don't exist. Mary, Emily is free now. I saw it myself. Your mother, too. She'd locked herself up, you see. Out of grief and betrayal. But then, in the end, she realized that she could release herself as well."
"But maybe she's back," Mary said, looking at Lydia closely. Lydia, or Emily, or whoever, was watching Dad intently. So was Mother. "What if she wants another shot at living?"
"You don't get another shot at living," Dad said gently. "Just the one. Emily had hers, and it ended terribly. Unfairly. Too soon. But she realized she did not get to do it over. Stealing someone else's life, someone else's future, was wrong. Emily knew that."
"She'd never do such a thing again," Mother agreed in her softest voice. She held Lydia a bit closer, pushing a bit of wet hair off her face. "I know that she would not. She knew the pain of a life ended too early. She'd never do the same to someone else, not again."
Mother rose up a little on her knees to give herself enough height to rest her cheek on the top of Lydia's head. "I shall never forget the look on your father's face when Emily stole him away. The way he reached for me and called my name. I almost lost him forever. But then...then she saw herself in me, I think, in the end. She realized she had hurt me the way that she had been hurt. I cannot imagine Emily, that Emily I saw at the last, would take my daughter from me. Nor would she steal away another young woman's life."
The Lydia-thing's face was contorted, almost like it was in pain. She pulled back to look into Mother's eyes. They held one another's gaze for a very long moment, until the Lydia-thing closed her eyes and bent to bury her face in Mother's shoulder. Mother, eyes a little wet, held her close.
"No, she'd never," Dad said, his voice strange. He gave Mary a reassuring squeeze. "You did not hurt your sister. You might have called up a dead person, certainly, but it isn't inside your sister. And it isn't Emily. She's at rest. And deservedly so."
"I think you both are too nice," Mary said, annoyed. "Much too nice. What about all the weird things she said? The weird things she's doing? She as good as admitted to me that she's the ghost, when we were in the parlor and you were upstairs!"
Mother made a shushing noise, but it wasn't clear whether she was comforting the Lydia-thing or telling Mary to be quiet.
"She's just ill, Mary," said Dad. His eyes were full of love and worry when they rested on Lydia, sitting on the grass in Mother's arms. "Like the doctor said. Exhausted. It's made her confused."
"No, I really don't think-" Mary insisted, but stopped when her sister spoke. And it did sound more like Lydia this time, the first time all day.
"I am exhausted," Lydia said into Mother's shoulder, her voice muffled. "And confused. I'm so exhausted. And I'm sorry."
"What for?" Mother asked.
"This. I made a mistake," Lydia mumbled. Then she fell heavily into Mother, who lost her balance and tumbled backward onto the lawn.
"Oh!" Dad cried, and nearly catapulted Mary into the air in his haste to get to the heap of Mother and Lydia on the ground. Mary caught herself mid-stumble and went to help.
Mother was already struggling to sit up against Lydia's dead weight, her hair all mussed and her skirt dirty. Dad helped her. She cradled Lydia in her arms.
"She's cold as death again," Mother said, tapping at Lydia's cheeks. "Oh, Liddie."
Dad knelt on Liddie's other side, with Mary close beside him. He took her hand, put his fingers to her wrist. Mary bit her lip, heart pounding, scarcely remembering to breathe.
Lydia lay there, cradled between their parents, not moving. Not breathing. She was blue-pale, as she had been that morning. Mary willed her to open her eyes. To be there again.
A breeze picked up, carrying over the scent of roses from the far side of the garden. The sun was warm on the top of Mary's head. Then, what felt like a firmer breeze blew past her, ruffling her hair. But it was a soft chill, rather than the warm breeze of a summer day.
"Was that a draft?" Mary asked stupidly. Her parents ignored her, focused on Lydia.
With a snort and a gasp, Lydia woke up. All of them gave a sigh of relief. Slowly Lydia sat up. Blinked. Met Mary's eye. And Mary wanted to weep. For it was her sister in there. That was Lydia behind those eyes. She'd know her anywhere.
"Ugh, my head," said Lydia, pinching the bridge of her nose. She took her hand away and stared at it, then felt at her forehead and hairline. "Ugh! Why am I all wet?"
Mary threw herself at her sister. It was lucky Mother and Dad were holding her up, or she would've gone right over backwards. Mary wrapped her arms around Lydia's neck and squeezed for all she was worth.
"Oh, I'm so happy to see you," she said into Liddie's ear. "I missed you! Oh, I'm so glad I didn't kill you."
"What are you talking about?" Lydia asked. Gasped, really. "I can't breathe, Mary."
"I saved you with holy water, you're okay now," Mary assured her. She pressed her cheek firmly against Liddie's. "I'm so glad you're back, you're my favorite sister, and I'm not just saying that because you've been possessed all day, I promise."
"Mary, get off," Lydia said gruff and smothered. "You're squashing me."
"I love you, too," said Mary sweetly. After one more squeeze she backed off.
"Oh, Liddie, are you all right?" Mother asked. She took Lydia's hands in hers and searched her face. Lydia was still practically in her lap.
"My head aches," Lydia replied, touching her fingers to her temple. "And I'm cold. What happened?"
"You were possessed by the ghost of the corpse bride!" Mary said before either of her parents could say anything. "I did my séance and she came to have her picture taken, and she accidentally wound up inside you."
"Mary," Dad said in a warning tone. He'd not taken his arm from around Lydia's shoulders, hovering protectively. Mary closed her mouth. Lydia blinked and pulled a face.
"What really happened?" Lydia asked, looking pointedly at Mother.
"You...you had a fainting fit," Mother said at last. "This morning, after you got up. Mary said you went to bed with a headache last night. And you've been not quite yourself all day. Don't you remember?"
"No," said Liddie after a moment. "No, I don't."
The unease in Lydia's voice, her real voice, made them all quiet. They sat there in the grass in their little huddle, all clustered protectively around Liddie. Mary was tensed for another boom or another cold wind. Nothing came.
Eventually Lydia sat up fully and gently pushed Mother and Dad away from her.
"Please, could I go inside?" she asked. She got to her feet, clearly annoyed when everyone hovered about as if she'd fall. "I'm all right, I need headache powder. And a towel. And to change."
Hearing her tone, and seeing her lip curl slightly as she looked down at her outfit filled Mary with joy. Lydia was back.