Page 97 of Starrily
“You know as well as I do there’s nothing to be done about it.”
Shanna only nodded and lowered her gaze to the floor.
“I reckon with this and the texts we have, we could figure something out,” Penny said. “We’ll need a few days, though, andwe’ll have to examine you”—she looked at Raleigh—“and the locket with the other soul.”
“But for now, it’s getting late,” Phoebe said.
“Are you kidding? It’s barely to the witching hour,” Iris responded.
“Our guests will be tired, Momma. We should continue tomorrow.”
“Good.” Callie stood, her movements wooden. “We’ll be back then.”
“Where are you going?” Penny asked.
“To town, to find a place to sleep.” Callie looked at Raleigh and nodded her head.
“But, baby—”
Phoebe put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Penny. Let her go. She’ll be back tomorrow.”
Penny sighed. “At least change, yes? You’re soaked to the bone, and with this road, it’s at least twenty minutes to town. You’ll catch a cold if you go out like this.” She looked at Raleigh. “You, too. We’ll find you something warm and dry. Callie, some clothes should still be in your room.”
Callie’s hands clenched into fists, but then she released them. “Fine.” She stomped up the stairs, the wooden planks banging underneath her feet.
By the time Raleigh was outfitted with dry clothes, Callie still wasn’t back. “Is she all right?” he asked her mother.
“No,” Iris responded instead. “But she will be.”
“I should go after her.” Penny made a move toward the stairs.
Iris touched her shoulder, stopping her. “Let the boy go. You two will talk later.” She nodded at Raleigh.
He glanced at Penny, who only looked sad, and Phoebe, who shrugged at him, her lips quirking in a smile.
“First door on the right,” Iris said.
So up he went. Callie had left the door ajar; he knocked softly, then peeked in. It was as if he’d stepped back in time, to the bit of Callie’s life he’d never seen before. The bit that preceded the graduation photo in her apartment; the bit she’d deleted from her life. It remained here: in the fairy lights, spreading from the wall beside her bed all the way to her work desk; in the glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the ceiling; in the medals and trophies displayed on the shelf above the desk.
Callie sat on her bed—a narrow one covered in a dark blue sheet with a space print. A younger Callie’s bed. She wasn’t moving and barely blinked as she stared at the wall across.
Carefully and slowly, Raleigh sat next to her.
“I can’t be here,” she said in a low voice. “I can’t do this. I can’t let it happen to you, too.”
“Let what happen?”
Callie’s whole body shook, and she collapsed toward him. He caught her in his arms as the dam broke, and she cried into his shoulder. Something cold and metallic hit his thigh—a framed photograph she was holding in her hand. Old, but well-preserved behind glass, it showed two girls smiling and hugging each other. They couldn’t be more than ten years old, and looked so alike Raleigh had to study the photo for several seconds before he recognized Callie. But who was the other one?
“Her name was Camille,” Callie said. “I called her Mila. Some called her Cam because it sounded similar to my name. Cal and Cam, they’d say. The dynamic duo. The little rascals.” She sniffled. “I miss her so much.”
“Mila,” he repeated. He’d heard that name before. “Your dreams. You called for her in your dreams.”
“My nightmares,” she corrected him. “She was my best friend.”
“And now?”
“Now …” Callie stared at the photo. “She’s my ghost.”
