Not old-fashioned white uniforms with caps.

Slowly, she turns back toward the room.

Althea's large form is lying in the bed covered with a white sheet drawn up to her chest. She's connected to beeping machines through a series of tubes. Her breaths are coming harshly, with a long pause between each one.

Willow is at her bedside, clutching one of her mother's hands in both of hers, crying softly. In the window, over her shoulder, white confetti is swirling.

It takes Calla a moment to realize what it is.

Snow.

My first snowfall.

For a moment, she stares at it in wonder. Then Willow looks up. "Calla!"

Calla opens her mouth to speak but can't find her voice.

"You're here. . . . I can't believe you're here. Thank you so much."

I do belong here.

She hurries across the room to Willow. "Is she . . . ?"

"Her body is shutting down."

"I'm so sorry."

"They called me at school. It could be any time now."

"Where's your father?"

Willow's eyes harden. "At work. He said he'd try to come by on his lunch hour, but . . . he didn't."

"Maybe he's on his way."

"I don't want to see him. I don't want him to see . . . her."She sweeps a hand toward her mother.

Looking at Althea, Calla is filled with sorrow.

Then she realizes that Althea isn't just lying in the bed. She's standing beside it, too. Looking younger, and healthier, than Calla has ever seen her.

The body in the bed is technically still alive, she realizes- but now it's like an empty house whose residents have packed up and moved on. Althea's soul has already left. She's free.

Their eyes meet, and Althea flashes a radiant smile. "Thank you, Calla."

"For what?"

Willow looks up. "What?"

"What?"

"Did you just say something?"

She can't hear or see her mother, Calla realizes. She doesn't realize her spirit has already left her body. Should I tell her?

Remembering how helpless and frustrated she herself felt the long- ago day when Althea saw her own mother and she herself couldn't, Calla decides against it.

Willow is too emotional right now.

"Thank you for being with her, Calla."Althea is bathed in white light now, growing more ethereal by the second. "You'll help her. Take care of her."

She nods, unable to speak for the monstrous lump in her throat.

As she watches, Althea disappears into the light.

In that instant, the beeping gives way to an ominous, steady tone.

"No,"Willow sobs. "Oh, Mommy, no."

Calla can only hold her, cry with her, knowing only too well the pain that lies ahead.

THIRTY-FIVE.

Lily Dale

Monday, October 15

7:35 p.m.

"How is she?"Odelia asks anxiously, waiting at the foot of the stairs when Calla descends after leaving Willow in her bedroom.

"She said she just wants to be alone."

"That might not be the best thing."

"She needs some time to pull herself together, Gammy."Having been in Willow's shoes, Calla remembers only too well the aching sorrow that makes it nearly impossible to speak, to breathe, to function.

"We'll check on her in a little while. I'm sure her father will be calling to see how she is."

Calla isn't so sure about that.

When Willow's dad showed up at the hospital, he seemed to be all-business, betraying very little emotion even as he gave his daughter a perfunctory hug. He didn't argue when Calla and Jacy offered to take Willow back to Lily Dale with them as he made the necessary arrangements to transport Althea from the hospital to the funeral home.

Willow didn't argue, either . . . although she did ask to go back to her own house. Calla talked her out of it. She couldn't bear the thought of her friend alone there tonight . . . or ever.

Her grandmother puts an arm around her. "How about you, my dear? Are you okay?"

"I'm just so sad."

"It's a tragic loss. She was a special lady."

"She was."Calla hesitates. "Um, know what? Before Althea died, I saw her."

"What do you mean?"

As she describes the experience, Odelia smiles and nods.

"That's exactly how it is,"she tells Calla. "Like an empty house. The body is just a mortal sh.e.l.l that houses the spirit. Spirit lives on."

If Calla ever had any doubt about that, she doesn't any longer. Althea York lives on . . .

Somewhere.

And so does my mom. I just haven't been able to see her, just like Willow couldn't see her mother today.

It was Althea who told Calla that her own grief might be acting as a barrier to being able to connect with her mother's spirit.

But after a couple of months in Lily Dale, Calla did finally feel her energy- and her touch-in the Yorks' kitchen one night. It wasn't nearly enough. But it was something.

"Come on,"her grandmother says. "Let's go into the kitchen and I'll make you something to eat."

They walk, arm in arm, toward the back of the house, with Miriam drifting alongside them.

"I'm worried about Willow, Gammy. What's going to happen to her now?"

"I suppose she'll go live with her father."

"She doesn't want to."

"No, I imagine she doesn't."Odelia's mouth hardens. Obviously, she's encountered Mr. York before.

"I have an idea, Gammy."

"I bet it's the same idea I have."

Calla smiles, relieved. "I love you, Gammy."

"I love you, too."

"So Willow can stay here, with us?"

"Absolutely. If she wants to. And if you don't mind. It's going to be close quarters in your room."

"I know . I don't mind. It'll be . . . like having a sister."

"All right."Odelia opens the refrigerator. "We'll talk to her when the dust settles a bit, so to speak. What do you want to-"

The doorbell rings loudly, cutting her off.

"Do you have an appointment coming, Gammy?"

"No. Must be Willow's father or a walk- in reading."She closes the fridge. "I'll go see."

Calla sits at the table and worries about Willow. She's got a rough road ahead, even with support from Calla and her grandmother.

The front door closes and she hears a male voice mingling with her grandmother's in the front hall. Willow's father must be here. Calla hadn't expected him so soon. That's a good sign. Maybe he really is- "Calla? There's someone here to see you."

She looks up, startled.

How could she have forgotten?

"Calla, I've been channeling your mother for days now,"David Slayton announces. "She wants to come through to you."

THIRTY-SIX.

Lily Dale