Sunday, August 7, 2011, 9:00 a.m. Los Angeles

I wake to my ex-husband's voice. "Hey sleepyheads, I'm making breakfast."

Extending my hands, I nudge Amber. She's sandwiched between me and Rose. They open their eyes and groan as they stretch.

I slide off the bed and my feet land on fur. "Oh shit, Kibbles!" I retract my legs as he rises to stand with a grunt.

Christopher opens the guestroom door and Kibbles rushes out to go potty. "Toss me the keys and I'll get your suitcase." Rose rises to stand, grabs the rental car keys from a side table, and hands them to my ex. She walks into the bathroom and shuts the door.

Amber's sitting on the bed. Her eyes follow my movements as my hand shoots out to grab the pill container container from my crumpled pants on the floor.   I open it to remove a tiny orange strip. Her eyes meet mine as I stick the little rectangle under my tongue. Relief floods my aching muscles as the medicine dissolves. "Suboxone. It takes the cravings away." I blink back tears. "Amber, I'm so sorry..."

She looks away as cuts me off. "It's okay, Mom."

I scoot across the bed to hug my daughter.  "Thank you for believing Conlan's alive."

Amber pushes away. "Bathroom. Gotta go."

She slips out of the room and leaves the door open. I watch her cross the courtyard to the other side of the house.

Christopher reappears in the doorway, suitcase in hand. I move to take it, but he enters the room to set the suitcase on the end of the bed. "I'll leave you to it." With a nod, he exits.

Rose emerges from the in-suite bathroom, unzips the suitcase, and removes a toiletries bag. She tosses me a new toothbrush. I follow her into the bathroom and brush my teeth. My mirror image is skeletal,  a ghost of my former self.

My sister – I mean – my mother pats my shoulder. "We need to eat." The mirror reflects her thin face, pinched with worry.

The vision of her younger self appears in my mind, helpless to stop Seamus O'Donnell's attack. I don't know that version of Rose. She's my sister. Fiercely independent, protective and tough. How do I reconcile our past with the woman I know? With a heavy heart, my right hand finds her left and I give a gentle squeeze. "Any news from Aunt Ester?"

She shakes her head and exits the bathroom. I follow as we leave the guestroom to stand on the brick path. Glancing at the house's horseshoe shape surrounding me, I realize seven doors open out into the courtyard and I don't remember which one is the kitchen.

As if he's read my mind, Christopher emerges from a door at the top of the horseshoe and gestures for us to join him.

I briefly consider cutting across the lawn, but abandon the idea as the familiar stench of dog doo hits my nose. We walk the safety of the brick path, and sugary sweetness overwhelms the nasty smell.

Rose smiles. "Mmmm, pancake syrup." 

Kibbles finishes dropping a deuce and zips across the lawn and into the kitchen.

Christopher turns to us as we enter.  "Officer Johnson says LAPD will investigate."  His eyes flick to Amber as she emerges from a room on the north side of the kitchen. "He'll stop by sometime today to speak to each of you. Maybe you noticed some important detail that I missed."

My ex stands in front of four gas burners inset into a center island. Kibbles's snout rises and falls as he tracks Christopher's movements. Amber and Rose move to sit on stools at a breakfast counter opposite the stove. Rose motions to an empty seat.

As I plop down beside beside my sister, Christopher shovels pancakes on our plates. He removes a little bowl of hot maple syrup from the microwave and offers it to us as he sits beside Amber.

No way I'm calling Rose "Mom" in front of Christopher. We agreed last night that he's safer if we keep him out of our drama.

Weird and wonderful, the four of us eating together. My eyes moisten with the realization that it's been three and a half years since we were a family. The black hand of depression snatches my fleeting happiness with the reminder that Conlan's not with us. We eat in awkward silence.

Halfway through breakfast, my ex's cell phone rings. He removes it from a pocket and glances at the screen. "Sorry ladies, it's work. I need to take this." Chris puts the phone to his ear, stands up from the stool and walks outside to the courtyard. Through the kitchen windows, I watch him follow the brick pathway and stop outside the den's sliding glass door.

I shift my body to face my sister, I mean my mother. Damn, she's actually both, because her father is my father. Seamus O'Donnell is one twisted fucker, and he's holding my baby hostage! My skin's crawling, but not from withdrawal. Minutes seem like hours as I wait for word from Great Aunt Ester.

Amber's voice cuts through my bitter musings.  "When do we start the ritual?"

Rose finishes chewing before she speaks. "Soon as we're done with breakfast. I'll make a bucket of salt water, bless it, and then we wipe down the walls, ceiling, and floors in every room. After we cleanse the physical space, I'll invoke the protection spell. We must finish before nightfall."

Amber sets down her fork, pancakes half-eaten. "What about Dad? He'll think we're nuts!"

Rose rises and takes her empty plate to the dishwasher. "I'll tell him it's an old Celtic practice to bless a new house. He may think we're silly and superstitious, but I doubt he'll stop us."

The kitchen door opens and Christopher enters. "I'm so sorry, but I need to leave for an emergency work meeting up at the Santa Susana Field Lab. I know it's a Sunday, but..."

Rose cuts him off. "Don't you worry. I'll handle things here."

He leans against a marble topped counter adjacent the doorway, brow wrinkling as his eyes dart between me and Amber.

I rise from the stool and walk around the island to stand next to him. "Christopher, I'm not using."

He takes a step backward as his eyes widen. "What? How... when did you quit?"

"Yesterday."

Chris groans and crosses his arms. "One day doesn't make you clean and sober, Aislinn."

"I'm serious! Check my suitcase. You won't find anything. I'm taking Suboxone and the cravings are gone." I grasp his arm. "Please believe me. I'm not here to cause trouble."

"Then why are you here?" Dad turns to Rose. "I'd like an explanation."

Before anyone can answer, his phone chirrups with an incoming text. As he removes his cell phone to glance at the screen, his frown deepens. "Damnit, I've got leave ASAP. We'll continue this conversation when I get back."

Rose sighs as he leaves the kitchen. "Saint Brigid has delivered us once again. Let's get to work."

I glance at my half-eaten  pancakes and and dump them in the trash. Rose is squatting and looking under the sink.

Amber walks  to a rectangular pantry opening off the southern end of the kitchen, and returns with a bucket and rags. "Who is Brigid? Not Saint Brigid, but the Goddess."

Rose waves a box of sea salt at us. Her features harden. "Do not speak that name in my presence! That back-stabbing bitch handed me over to Seamus as a virgin sacrifice."

Amber's chest flushes deep red as she lowers her head."I watched Jonah morph into a Goddess named Ma'Man Brigitte. He says I transformed into Brigid the Celtic Goddess." She raises her head, eyes tear stained. "Now you're telling me she's evil? What does that make me?"

Shame stabs at my heart.  Amber's had to deal with so much on her own because I'm a shit mother.  I take her hand. "Maybe it's not so black and white."

Her palms feel afire. I release my grip as Amber mumbles, "Whatever."

Rose snorts as she tears  the bucket handle from Amber's grasp. "Who is this Jonah and why would you trust him?"

Kibbles's barking interrupts us.  His ruff stiffens as a disembodied female voice taunts, "Blah blah blah blah."

A shiver runs down my spine. It's been thirty years since I last heard her speak. A sharp pain shoots from my temples and into the center of my head. I gasp aloud as a blonde teenager materializes in the open doorway leading to the living room.

The ghost's eyes flick between the three of us before she settles on my daughter. "Who are these old ladies?"

Memories from 1982 flood my mind. Peppergate Ranch. Wild parties. The handsome host. My body shakes as the old anger returns. Bitch stole him from me.

Amber steps in front of us to confront the apparition. "I was polite and introduced myself. Your turn. Who are you?"

The blonde snorts. "Nice try, liar."

Holy shit, she thinks Amber is me.  I shove Amber aside and lean in to whisper, so only the blonde can hear. "Lucy?"

The ghost's attention snaps away from Amber, like she's seeing me for the first time.  Her lips scrunch as she tilts her head to stare at my features. Her gauzy form greys, then blackens. Lucy's face twists in rage as she throws herself at me, scratching and biting.

I stumble backward into a chair as Lucy's essence envelopes me. A snarling Kibbles leaps at my chest, knocking me to the tile floor. He bites and snaps at Lucy's ephemeral form.  Rose looms over the ghost and unleashes a barrage of Celtic words, so fast I can't follow.  A thousand pinpricks needle my skin. Despair permeates every pore as my vision blurs.

Suddenly, the kitchen door slams open. I shake my head to clear the stupor. A short, blonde boy about Amber's age rushes into the room. At his heels are a cowboy and a lawman dressed in a style befitting the late 1800s. The cowboy twirls a lariat above his head as the other man unholsters massive silver guns.

The boy skids to a stop and pulls me to my feet. He addresses the ghost. "I told you to register with the Sheriff!"

The cowboy snaps the lariat to encircle me. With a screech, Lucy vanishes.

My heart's pounding and I gasp for air. Kibbles nudges my leg as the noose disappears. Acid bubbles at the back of my throat and vomit threatens.

The lawman touches the brim of his black hat. "Morning ladies. Sheriff Graves, at your service."

The rope reappears in the cowboy's hand. The hair on my arms rises as if pulled by invisible static. He removes his hat, uncovering close-cropped gunmetal grey hair. "Cowboy Joe's the name. Sorry about lassoing you like a calf. I was after that blonde varmit."

Rose stamps her foot. "Begorrah! You're trespassing."

My memory offers the translation. An Irish expression of surprise. Could mean "What the hell?" or "What the fuck!" depending on who's speaking.

Kibbles walks to Amber and plops at her feet. Dropping to a crouch, she pats his head. "They're here to help."

The sheriff nods. "The little lady is correct. We keep the peace in this here part of Los Angeles."

The cowboy laughs. "We don't take kindly to trouble-making spirits."

Rose motions towards the kitchen door. "Get out."

Sheriff Graves eyes Amber. "This little gal arrives, and the portal for the dead opens for the first time in twenty-five years." He inclines his head in my direction. "Your affairs are now our concern."

Amber ignores the accusation as she retrieves her cell phone from a pocket. Fingers fly across the screen.

I grab the back of a stool to steady my quaking body. For fuck's sake, we just saw a ghost, and my daughter's not reacting. I know she has Aspergers, but what the the actual fuck? "Honey, are you okay?"

Her face shows no emotion. "Have you seen how big this house is? The ritual will take days! We need helpers."

Has everyone lost their damn minds? I snatch the phone from Amber's hands.  "Who are these people? Portal for the dead? What the hell?"

Amber's eyes flick to the teenage boy.

With a grin, he waves his mobile phone. "Welcome to La La Land."

Rose moves to the open door and points to the cowboy and the sheriff. "Our rituals are not for the you. Get out."

After the sheriff and cowboy exit, Rose turns to the boy.  "You seem harmless, but I need to speak to my family. Please wait outside."

The boy nods. In the doorway, he stops and looks over his shoulder at us. "I'm Seth." His eyes meet mine. "You must be Amber's mom." He turns to face Rose. "And you are..."

"Amber's aunt." Rose points to the bucket of salt water on the floor "If you really want to help, we need more supplies."

Seth types on his phone as Rose lists the essential ingredients for the cleansing. "On it. I'll be back in a few."

As he moves to leave the kitchen, Amber rushes to his side. "I didn't see any stores when we drove here."

Seth chuckles. "Max is on his way, and he's bringing Jonah, Luis, Marisol, and Noelle. After he drops them off, he'll drive me to the store."

Rose retrieves the bucket from the floor. "Good. I want a word with this so-called Jonah."

When Seth exits the kitchen, Amber's brow furrows and her lips curve downward in a frown. "When I told you I saw ghosts, you two said I imagined them!" 

Speechless, I look to Rose. She lowers her head in what I assume is shame. "Until today, I had no idea your mother could see ghosts. I was only trying to protect you two, to protect you from evil. Ghosts are the devil's minions."

Amber's face reddens and her hands curl into fists. "Shelby and I helped hundreds of ghost children. None of them were evil, just lost!" She releases her clenched fingers as her features soften. "That blonde is the first I've met who doesn't want help."

I jump at this opportunity to steer Amber away from uncovering the terrible truth. "Maybe she's evil, like Rose says."

With a groan, Rose tosses us rags. "The ritual will protect the house from ghosts." She shoots me a knowing look. "That nasty blonde can't cross any threshold once we're finished."

AUTHOR NOTES:

Banner photo of Peppergate Ranch's kitchen, taken by the author

Playlist Lovely Head by Goldfrapp

https://youtu.be/v8ZKgJLSoYI