The Awakening of Sunshine Girl (The Haunting of Sunshine Girl, #2)(7)
“This is absurd,” Mom declares. “You don’t even have proof that you really are my daughter’s birth father, and you certainly can’t just show up sixteen years after abandoning her in a hospital and lay claim to her with these outrageous stories.” Unlike me, clearly Mom isn’t tongue-tied around Aidan. “I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve here, but you can’t just brainwash my daughter into believing fairy tales. I’d like you to leave right now, and if you don’t, I’m calling security.” She reaches for the phone at the side of my bed, but I can see that her hands are shaking. Still, she tries to sound as calm and authoritative as Aidan as she says, “My daughter is recovering from a serious cardiac episode, and I don’t think this kind of stress—”
Before she can finish, Aidan takes hold of her arm, shocking her into silence. She drops the phone.
Mom’s face goes slack, her eyes closing heavily. “What are you doing?” I ask frantically, sitting up and reaching for her. Immediately I get tangled up in the myriad wires and tubes I’m connected to.
“Don’t worry,” Aidan says.
“Don’t worry?” I shout. “The last time you did something to her she was possessed by a homicidal demon!”
It’s the most I’ve ever said to him, and much to my surprise, the words slipped out easily. My worry for Mom’s safety is so much bigger than my fear of and anger at Aidan.
“I’m showing her what happened on New Year’s Eve,” he explains calmly.
I’m overwhelmed by the idea of Mom seeing what we went through on New Year’s. I wasn’t sure whether I was ever going to tell her about the danger we were all in that night. I knew she’d blame herself, even though it wasn’t her fault. My eyes well up with tears as I watch her face, knowing she’s experiencing those horrifying moments for the first time.
“I don’t know if . . .” my voice fades away, unsure how to express my thoughts.
“It’s all right. I’ll show her something more positive now,” Aidan says, as if he’s reading my mind. “I’ll show her a little of what you and I can feel. The spirits that float through this hospital, coming loose from their bodies as death grows near. The spirits that have left this place behind, leaving nothing more than a shadow in their wake.”
Even though Mom is here in the room with us, it feels like she’s somehow absent.
“I’m not sure I can feel that,” I protest, but Aidan nods slowly. “You can.” His voice is soft but insistent. “Close your eyes. Concentrate.”
I don’t want to take my eyes off Mom, but I also want to know exactly what she’s feeling right now, so I let my eyelids drop. “Concentrate,” Aidan whispers.
“On what?” I squeeze my eyes tight.
“Relax. Let it flow over you. Open yourself up to receive it.”
I take a deep breath and try to relax all of my muscles, rolling my shoulders down my back, slouching so my stomach curls into a C. Almost like I’m trying to fall asleep.
And then I feel it. It’s nothing like the cold shiver that a spirit’s actual presence or touch brings; it’s more like a hum, a heartbeat, a sense that the very air is alive, a sort of electric charge in the air.
“Wow,” I say, opening my eyes. For just a second I swear Aidan smiles at me.
“Consider that your first lesson,” he says. He doesn’t add: Just imagine what you might learn if you come with me and begin your training. He doesn’t have to. I can’t help but raise one eyebrow as a response.
Quick as a snake, he lets go of Mom and she drops onto my bed, sitting up straight as a ruler. When she opens her eyes, I see a look of absolute wonder coming over her freckled face as she realizes that the world is much more mysterious than she ever believed it could be. She blinks, her gaze landing on Aidan as though she’s seeing him for the first time. I reach out and take her hands in mine.
“Katherine,” Aidan begins. “Kat,” he corrects himself. “There’s a reason you named your daughter Sunshine.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Tears
Aidan excuses himself politely, leaving me alone with Mom. She’s wearing a cream-colored cardigan over her pastel scrubs, and she’s pulled the sleeves down over her wrists, just like I do. I wonder whether she got cold when she felt the spirits too. She looks more than a little dazed, and when I squeeze her hands, I’m surprised to discover that my own are trembling.
I’m seriously frightened. More frightened than I was in the parking lot hours earlier. Maybe even more frightened than I was when we moved into a haunted house.
What if my mother never looks at me the same way again?
Even though I sometimes think of Nolan as one of my best friends—and even though I’ve been calling Ashley, my best friend in Austin for just about as long as I can remember—the truth of the matter is I’ve always only had one best friend. And even though it might sound super-dorky-cheesy, I don’t care: my mom is my best friend.
The idea that anything could change terrifies me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” I begin. “I’ve only known about Aidan since New Year’s Day.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” Mom stares into my eyes. The look of wonder is stripped from her face. Her always-pale skin looks a few shades whiter than usual. She turns to face the door like she’s wondering who might show up next. Nurses rush back and forth in the hallway; doctors stand around examining charts. A bouquet of balloons floats by on its way to the maternity ward to congratulate a new parent. I can see Mom’s hands shaking, and I reach out to hold them.