Free Elizabeth Basque - Medium Mysteries 01 - Echo Park by Elizabeth Basque

so will Carla.”
    I had to force my own tears back as Julie looked up at me, trying to decide if she really did trust me after all. Then she got up too, wiped her eyes once more, and we headed for the living room.
     
    Carla and Michael were talking quietly as we entered. Mack hovered mid-air a little behind them. The three froze when they saw Julie. Michael, especially, was frightened. Even ghosts have emotions; as a matter of fact, emotions, feelings and thoughts were all they consisted of, really.
    Carla took Julie’s hand, and Julie held on tight.
    “All right.” I took command again. I had to. “We need some communication, positive communication. Let’s just all calm down, a little. You three,” I indicated the dead, “give yourselves another boost.” I nodded to the remote. Damned electric bill’s gonna be sky-high, I thought to myself, not to mention all of the batteries I went through to help ghosts manifest themselves, like at the poker party. Only Mack caught this thought; he kept his mouth shut, but smiled at me. I smiled back in my mind but kept a serious face.
    When the three of them “energized,” and Julie was fairly calm, I said, “Carla, have you explained your close ties with Julie to Michael?”
    They both nodded.
    “ Good. Now, our next step is to listen to Michael, for every story has two sides. Whether we want to know them, or not.” I nodded to Michael. “I’m here to help you, too, son.”
    “ I, uh, I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
    “ Oh, I think you do. I’m not here to judge you. I just want to know what happened, and how you came to die.”
    Michael nodded briefly, and sat on the carpet in front of us.
    After a deep sigh, he began his tale.
     
     
    Chapter Fourteen
     
    “ I was ten years old when Mom was killed by a hit-and-run driver.”
    I nodded for Michael to continue.
    “Just crossing the street. That’s all we were doing. It was a normal day. She walked with me and my two little sisters to the grocery store. It all happened really fast.” He paused. “Just before the car hit her in the crosswalk, she shoved us three kids out of the way in front of her. Up onto the sidewalk. And then …bam! She was dead, about two feet away. Just that fast. Just that close.”
    “ I’m so sorry for your loss.”
    “ Thank you,” he said softly.
    I gave him a moment. “Who took care of you and your sisters after that?” I asked.
    “We had Dad, but I cooked and stuff like that.”
    “ You did?”
    “ Yeah. Dad worked swing shift. He never got home from work until we were all asleep and then we would leave for school before he woke up. I mainly made hot dogs and boxed macaroni and cheese in the beginning. Anything that had directions on the package.”
    His voice faded out for a moment so he took a power boost and continued, “I did laundry and put my sisters to bed after their little homework papers and baths each night.”
    “How old were they?”
    “ First and second grade. Six and seven.”
    “ Why didn’t you have a babysitter?” I asked, incredulous.
    “ The money. And because my dad trusted me with them.”
    “ So, he treated you like an adult?” I asked.
    “ No. Dad called me ‘lost boy.’ From the day of Mom’s funeral, he called me that.”
    “ Why?” Carla asked, her eyes sad. “Why did he call you that?”
    “ Because I was lost without Mom. We all were. Even him. Especially him.” Michael paused. “He was this tough guy who would never cry in front of us or admit he was missing her. He had this mean sense of humor that he would try and make us laugh when we were crying, but not in a nice way. It was kind of like he was shutting down our emotions and his, too, with his hazing of our grief. None of us were supposed to be babies about her death. We were supposed to just wait.”
    “ For what?” I asked.
    “ He said he would find us a new mom.” He paused. “That was not what we needed. We lost her and then, we lost him. I tried