The Loveliest Dead by Ray Garton Page A

Jenna said, meeting Kimberly’s eyes. “And I think I’ve seen my dead son twice.”
    Kimberly’s smile collapsed and her eyebrows rose slowly. “I’m sorry?”
    “You heard me.” Another laugh. “Sounds crazy, huh? Tell me, you wouldn’t happen to know where I might find ... oh, I don’t know, a psychic? A medium, maybe? I don’t even know what I need . I don’t know anything about this stuff—I don’t even believe in it. At least... I’ve never believed in it before.”  
    Kimberly’s head tilted forward. “Are you serious?”
    “Yeah. Can you believe it?”
    “You said ... you’ve seen your dead son?”
    Jenna felt the heat of embarassment on her cheeks and throat. “Look, I’m really sorry about this mess.” She stepped gingerly around the broken glass as she walked back over to the pickles. “I really was going to buy a couple of these.”  
    “Don’t worry about it—I’ll get somebody to clean it up. You know, I’ve got three boys. Four, if you count my husband. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost one of them. I’m sorry about your son.”  
    “Please don’t. You’ll get me started again.” She chose a jar of dills and another of bread-and-butter pickles and put them in her cart.  
    Tipping her head down again, Kimberly said, “But... you said you saw him?”  
    “I’m sorry, I was just babbling. I’m having a bad day, that’s all.”
    “Yeah, sounds like a hell of a bad day. I don’t know where you can find a psychic or a medium, but I’m getting off soon. I’d be happy to listen if you want to talk.”  
    “Are you serious?”
    Kimberly smiled. “You got a lot of friends around here?”
    “I don’t know a soul.”
    “I get off in about fifteen minutes. I’ll meet you out front—we can go to the coffee shop a few doors down.”
    Kimberly went off to find someone to clean up the mess, and Jenna continued shopping. She could not believe she had just babbled those things to someone she’d just met. The woman probably thought she was crazy. At the same time, it might feel good to talk to someone, even a stranger—maybe especially a stranger.  
    The coffee shop a few doors down was tiny and sold overpriced coffees, sandwiches, and pastries. Jenna ordered a regular coffee, the cheapest thing on the menu.  
    Kimberly had biscotti with her cappuccino and waited patiently through small talk. Finally, when there was a brief pause in the conversation, she said, “How did your son die? If you don’t mind my asking.”  
    “Josh died of a cerebral aneurysm,” Jenna said. “He’d been having headaches off and on for months, and after a bunch of tests, the doctor started treating him for migraines. Nothing showed up on the MRI, so ...” She shrugged one shoulder. “It kind of made sense, because my mother has suffered from migraines all her life. I thought maybe they ran in the family. But... they weren’t migraines.”  
    “I’m so sorry.”
    Jenna was surprised that her eyes were dry. She was talking about it without crying. That was a first. She wondered if it was because she’d grown more convinced that she actually had heard from Josh.  
    Kimberly leaned forward at their small, round, marble-topped table by the front window. “You said you saw him.”
    Slowly, Jenna told her about seeing the small figure in the upstairs hallway, and about hearing the music in the basement and seeing the child again down there.  
    “The blue jacket he wore,” Kimberly said. “Was it a jacket that Josh owned?”
    Jenna frowned down at her coffee as she thought about Josh’s clothes. “He had a blue jacket, but... I don’t remember it having a hood.”  
    “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything about this sort of thing.”
    “Neither do I. But I can’t think of any other explanation for it. I know what I saw, there’s no doubt in my mind about that. But I keep wondering ... well, if I really saw it, or if ... if maybe I’m going crazy.”  
    “I’ve