There was only one answer to what was going on. Why he had been so moody and angry. Why Charlotte's death had sent him into a tailspin.

He had stopped taking his medication.

I left Connor sleeping peacefully on the bed, T-shirt rumpled around his waist and the hem of blue plaid shorts stretched down to his knees. Quiet, little snores came out of his nose. What should have been annoying I should have found endearing, but instead of either of those I felt my heart breaking.

In my rush to get away, I stumbled over the last step on the stairs. I managed not to fall but I did have to brace myself against the wall for support, which made a loud thudding sound when I bounced off it. I righted myself and walked through Connor's living room and into the kitchen. No one was in the room and I moved quickly around the island, hoping to get out the back door and to my car without notice.

"Oh, Jane, I thought I heard someone. Leaving already?"

No such luck.

I turned and found Mrs. Jacobs walking out of the laundry room that connected to the kitchen.

"Connor was really tired. I left him up there to take a nap."

"I've noticed he's looked tired lately." She walked past me and began taking food out of the refrigerator. "Not to mention a little moody."

I forced a smile on my face. "Yeah, a little bit."

"He's had a hard couple of weeks," she noted. "You excited about the beach?"

"I am. I look forward to just reading and taking a break. Milton Beach is really nice. I think Connor will like it."

"We usually go to St. Simons," she said, "but with Connor in school all summer, a full week trip didn't seem possible, plus his dad is busy, as usual. I'm glad he's going with you. He deserves a break. He's worked so hard this spring and summer."

I wasn't sure how to respond. Adults in general made me nervous, but Mrs. Jacobs was a whole different story. She had that Junior League, afternoon tea, poised and put together thing going on. Very different from my artsy-eccentric family.

"I think we'll have a good time," I said. "I guess I should get home."

I walked to the door but stopped when she said, "I worry about him though, with the death of his friend. That girl. Did you know her?"

"No, we never met."

"I never knew about her either, until a couple weeks ago. When she came by to visit Connor. She was so full of life. I had no idea she was so fragile."

"Oh, she came by?" I hoped my complete shock didn't show on my face.

"Yes, one afternoon right before ... you know, the terrible thing happened. Such a tiny thing. Scraggly blonde hair, but pretty. Connor seemed surprised to see her. She only stayed for a little while. I think they found her the next day. Maybe one later."

"She killed herself the day after she came over here?"

"Yes, I think so," she said, unwrapping vegetables and pulling a paring knife out of the drawer. She paused, holding the knife over a tomato. "Jane, I want you to know that we're really happy you're in Connor's life. He was adrift before he met you. And meeting Charlotte, I realized what could have been."

I had my hand on the back doork.n.o.b. "Thank you," I said. I gave her a weak smile and went out the door, shutting it quietly behind me. I walked to the car and thought about Connor sleeping upstairs, exhausted and worn out. I hoped he could get it together before his parents noticed. I wasn't confident that he could. Without the meds, the ghosts would be coming soon, if they weren't already here. I knew it, and so did he.

As I drove away from Connor's neatly manicured lawn and beautiful house the main thing that bothered me was why he would risk it? Why would Connor take the chance of losing his mind again? The medicine did more than keep his anxiety down, it kept the ghosts to a minimum. There had to be a reason why. I was afraid I already knew.

"MOM," I CALLED down the stairs, "do you know where my bathing suit is?"

I waited a minute at the top of the landing. She popped her head around the corner of the stairwell and said, "In the wash honey, it will be ready by the time we go."

"Thanks," I said, going back in my room.

We were leaving in the morning and I was having a hard time getting motivated to pack. Connor was on my mind. The fact he'd stopped taking his medication and everything that meant. I picked up my phone to call him but a blast of cool air made me drop it on the bed.

"Get out," I said to no one in particular, afraid of what I may find. I'd be lying if I denied that for a second my heart lurched into my throat, and the name "Evan" tried to fall from my mouth. Because there she was, blonde and filmy, standing in the corner. His corner.

"Charlotte," I said, attempting to hide my disappointment. Disappointed that she hadn't crossed over. Disappointed she still carried a beauty about her even in death.

"That's me."

We stood across from one another in an awkward sort of stand-off. Stupid and juvenile. She's dead. I'm a jealous fool.

"Sorry for being weird. I've never had a visit from someone I know... of."

"That's okay. I've never been dead, but even if I wasn't I'm not the type to follow protocols.""

"Are you okay? Do you need help?" I figured I should just get this over with. Ironically, she tilted her head to the side as though I offended her. I rushed to explain. "People tend to find me when they need something taken care of in their past life. Closure or information. Messages pa.s.sed."

She stared at me.

"I'm Jane."

"I know."

"Oh. You know about me? Like in the ghost world or something?"

"No, Connor told me about you."

"He told you about me? About this? That I can see the dead?"

"Not exactly. He told me about himself and that he had a girlfriend who understood his "issues," and that you had a lot in common. I saw your picture at his house. When I died, finding you was pretty easy. Finding Connor wasn't."

"Yeah, the drugs. It keeps him ghost free." For how much longer, I was unsure.

"What about you?"

"I tend to be on better terms with my ghosts." I pushed aside my suitcase and sat on the bed. "Since you know about me, I'm not going to lie. I heard your death was hard."

"I killed myself," she mimed herself hanging. Gross. She was still standing in the corner and I wished she would move.

"I heard."

"I tried to tell my mom, but she was busy at JeJu or whatever the name of her creepy Korean ma.s.sage parlor is, and my dad," she laughed, cold and angry, "he didn't care. He never did."

"That sucks."

"I even tried to tell Connor, but he was busy." Her eyes narrowed at me accusatorially.

"He cared," I confirmed. "He still does. He's really upset."

She scoffed. "Doubtful. He's got his own life and issues to deal with, he forgot about me the minute he left the program."

I've never had an angry ghost before. Sad and lost. Confused. But bitter and angry? Charlotte was a first.

"You seem pretty angry. That may be why you're caught in between. There's always a reason."

"I know my reason," she said. "I just wanted you to know I'm here. And I'll be here for a while, taking care of some things."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you should stay out of my way."

"Are you threatening me?"

She took a step out of the shadowy corner.

"Jane," my mother called from the stairway.

I never took my eyes off of Charlotte. "Yeah?"

"I need you."

"Hold on," I took a step toward the door. "I don't know what you're talking about but just so you know, I don't play games."

"Me either," she said in a hard, cold voice. Before I could respond, she vanished in a shimmery light.

"Jane!" My mother shouted this time.

"Coming," I yelled, leaving the empty room behind.

My mother needed me to take eggs to Ms. Frances. Perfect timing if you ask me. I had no idea what Charlotte was up to, but the hostility she channeled made me nervous, and I wanted out of the house.

I climbed over the low point in the back fence, pa.s.sing the ancient tire swing and knocked on the back door.

"Oh, Jane. Thank you for bringing those over. I was in the middle of baking a cake when I saw your mother in the driveway." She pushed open the screen door and took the carton from my hands. "I only need three."

"She said to give them all to you. We're going out of town in the morning and she's afraid they'll spoil."

That brought a smile to the old woman's face. "Tell your mama thank you. And I'll keep an eye out on the house."

"Thanks, Ms. Frances."

"Have a nice trip." The screen swung shut with a bang and I could hear her feet shuffling back inside the house.

I had one leg over the fence when I heard, "Jane. I like that name."

I turned to see her, the little girl I'd seen with Ms. Frances before. "Thanks.What's your name?"

"Tonya," she said, twisting around the rope until she spun around like a top. "That's my mama's house."

"I like your mama. She's nice."

"She is. She makes Darius mad though."

"Who's Darius?"

"My brother. He's supposed to watch me, but all they want to do is play games."

"Boys are like that."

"I like Parker though."

"Who's Parker?"

"My brother's friend. He brings me lollipops from the corner store."

"That's nice."

I heard my dad's car pull in the driveway. "I should go, I guess."

"Uh huh. Almost time for dinner. Mama's making a cake."

"I know. Have a piece for me, okay?"

"I will." She hopped off the swing and walked to the back porch. "Jane?"

"Yes?"

"Watch out for the angel. She's no good."

"Angel?"

"Yep. Her wings are sharp and will cut you." She held up her hand to reveal a red line. "See?"

I nod. "I'll be careful. You too, okay?"

With her fingers on the handle, she disappeared, never opening the door.

THE FIRST HALF of the week at the beach dragged. As an only child, I spent a lot of time alone and this trip was no different. Most of my time was spent lounging on the beach, reading or listening to music. During the afternoons and evenings, my mom and I hit the local shops. I tried to partic.i.p.ate in family time with no complaints since I knew the minute Connor arrived, I would be solely focused on him.

I called Connor before I left, planning to spill everything about Charlotte and Ms. Frances, but he didn't answer and, for once, I was tired of leaving him messages he wouldn't return. I wanted time to think, and I decided to tell him face to face. The beach would be the perfect place to hash this out. No running away or curfews. We could deal with this and the meds and everything else going on. I almost thought having a couple days break may not be such a bad idea so I could get my thoughts straight.

During our four days apart, we spoke once a day by phone but texted more. He sounded distant during our talks, but I chalked that up to him being a boy. He's never been very communicative on the phone anyway. On Monday, I missed him. By Wednesday, I craved him to the point of withdrawals.