Heather and Lorna shared a look. Lorna nodded. They all three joined hands, forming a circle around the book. The curtains fluttered, and the blinds made a rattling noise the moment they made contact. Vivien felt the energy flooding through her body. Hair lifted from her shoulders, tingling as the current flowed through her. She saw the same effect on Heather and Lorna. Heather gave her an encouraging smile. Lorna’s lips were pressed tightly together.
Vivien felt Lorna’s apprehension, but also her determination. Lorna had become accustomed to putting her own wishes and feelings aside for others. She’d done it her entire adult life—as a wife to Glenn and as a mother of three. She was probably the most giving person Vivien had ever met.
From Heather, Vivien detected the same hard knot of pain that was always there since the death of her son. It lingered in the background of everything Heather did. It had become a permanent fixture, and Vivien wasn’t sure there would ever be a way to get rid of it.
In truth, Heather wouldn’t want the pain to go away. That pain was her child. There was nothing that could compare to such a loss.
Vivien glanced down at the piece of paper. She felt her quickening heartbeat in her throat and chest. The word judge caught her attention. “I don’t want to judge Sam.”
“It’s the séance from the book that fits the closest, and it worked with Glenn. I thought maybe it was best we didn’t stray too far from Julia’s wording,” Heather said. “And it’s not like we’re going to judge him harshly or anything. I don’t think that matters.”
Vivien nodded. “All right.”
She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement that caused her to tremble. A sudden rush of questions flooded her. What would he think of her now? Would he think she was old? She didn’t feel old in her forties, but what would she have thought about this age when she was twenty?
Would he remember their love?
Would he remember her?
She had no clue what the afterlife held. It might have felt like centuries to him.
What if he was haunting some other woman?
What if—?
“Vivien, stop,” Heather said, squeezing her hand tight. “Take a breath. It’s all right.”
Vivien blinked. She was breathing hard, and her heart pounded.
“We can stop whenever you want,” Lorna said. “But it helped me to see Glenn. It helped to say goodbye to him. Let us help you do the same.”
Vivien didn’t want to say goodbye to Sam. She wanted him back. If magic was real, then why couldn’t magic give her back the love of her life?
Before the other two could sense her secret wish and decide to stop, Vivien looked down at the paper and began to read aloud, “We open the door—”
Lorna and Heather instantly joined her.
“—between two worlds to call forth the spirit of Sam Stone. Come back from the grave so that we may hear. Come back from the grave and show yourself to us so that all may see. Come back from the grave and answer for what you have done so that you may be judged.”
Small pinpoints of light moved over the book. This was how it had started when they’d summoned Glenn. First the light would grow, then his feet would appear standing on the book. His ghost body had absorbed the light from the candles, and it became trapped inside his translucent form to illuminate his shape. She watched, waiting, her breath coming in ragged, audible pants. The lights grew brighter.
First the light. Then the feet.
Come on, Sam.
The lights dimmed and faded like cooling ash. Sam wasn’t there.
“No,” Vivien gasped, jumping up a little in her seat as she willed the lights to come back.
The room darkened, and only the candles flickered.
“We open the door between two worlds,” Vivien said, the words rushed, “to call forth the spirit of Sam Stone.”
The flames sputtered and then burned low. She felt energy surging through her, flowing like a circuit from Lorna and into Heather. Why wasn’t he appearing?
“We call forth…” Vivien tightened her hold on her friends’ hands. “Sam? Are you there? Can you hear me? Sam, come back to me.”
“We open,” Lorna began, her voice sturdy. Heather instantly joined her, “the door between,” which prompted Vivien to do the same, “two worlds to call forth the spirit of Sam Stone. Come back from the grave so that we may hear. Come back from the grave and show yourself to us so that all may see. Come back from the grave and answer for what you have done so that you may be judged.”
The lights acted like they tried to shine but kept fading.
“Come on, Sam,” Heather whispered.
Lorna repeated the words, “We open the door between two worlds to call forth the spirit of Sam Stone. Come back from the grave so that we may hear. Come back…”
As her friend chanted, Vivien rocked back and forth in her chair. She couldn’t hear Lorna’s words so much as the tone of her voice. Vivien willed Sam to appear with every ounce of her being. The light formed a shape, only to fade, and then build, and then fade, build, fade.
Why?
“He’s trying,” Heather said, not sounding convinced. “Come on, Sam.”
“…come back from the grave and show yourself…” Lorna continued to chant.
“Come back to me, Sam,” Vivien ordered. “Come back to me, baby, come back.”
“…back from the grave and answer…” Lorna continued.
“Sam, come back to—” Vivien gasped.
The flames from the blue candles burst, as if catching invisible threads on fire. The four streams of light twisted around each other as they filled in the shape of muscular legs. The light continued to build, growing as legs turned into hips in shorts.
“…to call forth the spirit of Sam Stone…” Lorna’s voice faded into the background.
“Sam?” Vivien watched the light, focusing intently on what it revealed. She tilted her head back.
The firelight diffused into the see-through figure. It transformed the color of his skin and clothing and shifted the shadows of a firm stomach and chest. In all honesty, twenty years had done a lot to fade the exact memory of Sam’s body. She had pictures that served as a reminder, but it wasn’t until the light revealed his beautiful face that she knew for sure it was him.
Her Sam.
“Sam,” she whispered, feeling tears of joy threatening her eyes. “Sam, that’s it, come back to me.”
His dark brown eyes met hers as he looked down at her. She held tight to her friends, afraid if she let go, he’d disappear even though she knew it wasn’t like the old movies they’d seen. Once a spirit appeared, they didn’t need to keep holding hands for the séance to continue.
That face.
That mouth.
Those eyes.
Vivien panted for breath, unable to form the words she wanted to say. He was here. Finally. It was real.
Her lips parted. She gazed up at him, wishing his face was solid so she could reach for him, touch him, feel him.
His hand lifted, the fingers extending as if he would touch her.
“Hi,” she managed to whisper. “You’re here—”
Suddenly, Sam’s jaw distended. His mouth distorted in a wide scream. The sound blasted her like a gust of wind. Her hair blew back from her face. She imagined she smelled him—the familiar hint of fresh ocean air. She heard items crashing around her living room. The force of the wind became painful, stinging her skin like it pelted her with sand.