The Guidance - By Marley Gibson Page 0,87

her, asking what was wrong. All she could do was fumble around in the pocket of her housecoat."

"Pills," Granny says. "I was looking for my nitroglycerin."

Suddenly, the whole scene plays out for me in my mind's eye. "Oh no ... the errand?"

"I was supposed to pick up her prescription." Becca sniffs. "I didn't know it was that important. I didn't know she had heart problems enough to demand emergency pills."

"How could you know, precious," Granny says. "I never told you."

I place my hands on Becca's arms, trying to let Granny's love flow to her. "You didn't know. Not even your dad knew."

Tears shining in her eyes, she says, "No, he didn't."

"You didn't kill her, Becca. It was a mistake."

"I shouldn't have let my prescription run out," Granny tells me.

Becca lets out a silent scream of pain that I feel in my bones. "I let her down. I couldn't take two seconds from my important life to go to the drugstore and get her pills. There aren't words to describe the guilt I've been living with."

But I understand. Her ache ebbs across the gap between us to wash me in her sorrow.

"Is that why you dyed your hair and pierced yourself and hide behind the black makeup?"

She nods her head. "I don't deserve to be looked at admiringly anymore. I'm a freak who killed her grandmother. I'll keep piercing body parts to punish myself for the pain she went through."

"Oh, Becca..." I glance at the apparition that watches with such concern. "Speak to her. Let her hear you. Use my energy if you have to."

Granny smiles. "You tell her for me, child."

I listen to the woman, so full of love for the granddaughter she raised.

"Becca, Granny Gama is here and she wants you to know that she's so proud of you. You had nothing to do with her death. She had a weak heart and had had 'episodes' early in the week. She knew she needed her medicine and shouldn't have put the responsibility on you."

"I let her down."

"No, you didn't."

"She's still here, though. She's not at rest. Not at peace."

"Yes, I am," Granny says. "I just check in on my precious every now and then. I'm so proud of her grades and how she helps her father, and I know she's going somewhere with her music."

I relay this to Becca, who sits up and listens. "Really, Granny Gama?"

"Tell her I'd forgive her, but there's nothing to forgive."

My voice catches before I can repeat everything. "She says that she died in the arms of the person she loved the most."

"Oh my God." Becca puts her hands to her heart. "I loved her sooooo much. I still do!"

"Tell her I love her too," Granny says. Then she moves forward and lays a see-through hand against Becca's cheek. My friend startles, like she can feel the touch.

"I miss her more than she can ever know," says Becca.

"I know, Becky."

A tear slips down my cheek; I'm missing my own grandmother. "She wants you to continue being you and doing what makes you happy. Most of all, she wants you to forgive yourself and live life to the fullest, like she did."

Becca cries again, only this time, it's happy tears. "I will, Granny Gama! I promise."

And then the spirit vanishes—just like that.

Becca slumps against the door and reaches out for the used Kleenex I've been holding. "Holy crap. Where did that come from?"

"She came when she thought you needed her the most."

Blowing her nose, Becca says, "That was remarkably intense."

"Welcome to my world," I say, laughing.

She wipes at her eyes again. "Don't tell Celia and Taylor anything. We'll just tell them I'm on my period or something."

"Whatever you say." Then I add, "So much for not investigating in your house, huh?"

Becca takes my hand. "It wasn't an investigation, Kendall. It was an intervention. I think you just saved me."

"Anything for a friend. And you're one of my best."

Chapter Twenty-Three

On Monday afternoon, I approach physiology class with great trepidation, not knowing what I'm in for with Courtney. Will she have returned to her old ways, calling me Ghost Girl and sneering at me over our project? Or will she cut me some slack and see that I'm just a teenager like her, trying to fit in and survive high school? No matter how much I try to tune in to the energy around me, I can't predict what's going to happen.

My purse vibrates, alerting me to a text message. It's from Celia.

>Where were u @ lunch?

>Mom