Rachel

I guess you could say we adopted her.

Sam's brother was older, yet somehow younger, and a bit unsteady. Out of nowhere he moved to Vegas. His stuff, however, remained in his house in Dexter and needed to be moved. Sam, the good brother he is, went out to the property, packed and loaded the entire house into a U-haul van by himself.

Dexter is small and in the desert. Steve's house was about 8 miles past town in the water deprived landscape. There are houses nearby and even though you can see them, there has always been a sense of isolation and loneliness.

I've been there many times and though I didn't feel uncomfortable, I always felt lonely.

After Sam drove to Vegas, he came back. A few days later I mentioned the difference.

"Something has changed here." I said as we lay down for bed.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"The apartment. It feels different. Ever since you got back from Vegas I've been hearing things. I swear someone was crying in the bedroom yesterday afternoon. I feel like I am being followed around. There is just, just something different here. Remember when we lived in Stalen and the apartment felt all haunted. That's what I feel."

Sam said nothing.

"Babe, what do you think? Am I being crazy?"

"No," he replied. "I have to tell you something."

Steve was married and his wife got pregnant a few years before we moved to the area. She lost the baby and they got divorced. It was horrible for both of them and  something they couldn't get over.

"Yeah, I remember. Steve once said that he saw her, the baby I mean. He said he woke up one night and a little girl was standing there. He was sure it was her."

Sam looked down. "I think she came home with me. Something happened when I was moving Steve's stuff.

I walked into the house and left the door open. I was standing with my back to it, heading up the stairs, and I felt something behind me. You know how there are mountain lions out there and bears and stuff. I thought it was something like that. I turned with my fists raised and something, something rushed past me up the stairs and slammed the door. But there was nothing there! I didn't see anything, but I felt it move past me.

It was her, I think. It felt like a little kid, angry."

"Oh my god." I said. My eyes watered with that uncomfortable surge of the unknown.

"I think she's mad that Steve left. I thought that she would go to Vegas, and stay in Vegas with Steve, but I'm sure she is here. I felt a difference too, but I thought I was just being weird."

"Wow." I couldn't say anything besides that.

Ghosts don't bother me. I grew up in a house that was haunted. The voice that said into my ear, "move," one afternoon when I was home alone standing in a door way, cemented the notion in my mind.

Ghosts or spirits are interesting, sometimes a bit creepy, but overall harmless. The theory that a ghost could attach to someone and move around with them was not new to me. I read books and watched "A Haunting." But this, having it happen to my husband, that was new.

I do have to say though, Rachel was never threatening or scary. Not even the first time I saw her.

I'd heard that sometimes just asking a spirit to leave will help it to move to another plain, or at least another space. I thought that maybe she was lost and didn't know what she was supposed to do or where to go. If I could, I'd help her find her way.

One afternoon I lit a candle and some incense. I relaxed and rocked. I asked her to move on, to leave us in peace and seek peace for herself. The blessing was repeated a few times and then I could feel her. I opened my eyes and there she was.

Dark hair framed her face and she wore a little blue shirt and blue jeans. No shoes. She looked about 4 and her eyes were so sad.

"I don't want to go," she said. "I don't want to."

It's hard explaining it. It's hard believing it, but it happened. "What do you want?" I asked.

"Sugar."

As far as we both knew, Steve and his wife never named the baby. She was very early and just too young. We named her so that we didn't have to call her "the ghost." Once it was obvious she was with us, we accepted her and if it is possible to love a ghost, we loved Rachel.

We discussed her age. It didn't fit in with her actual age at death, but if you counted how long it had been since she died, it corresponded perfectly. If she had lived at birth she would have been 4 years old. We accepted it and started, every night, leaving sugar cubes and candy on the kitchen table.

In the morning it would be gone.

If for some reason we forgot to leave her the sweet treat, a single penny would fall from the ceiling if we showered, or we wouldn't be able to open the fridge until we apologized. She was a prankster and nice to have around once we got used to the oddness.

It got to a point where she was always around. We could feel her and interact a bit. I would walk around the house cleaning and humming. She would follow me and hum along in her little girl tones.

Things would be moved around in the mornings and if I couldn't find something, all I had to do was ask Rachel for it and it would appear on the kitchen table.

We never told anyone about it. We never, ever mentioned it to Steve. I'm sure he'd have thought we were cruel, heartless weirdos. Steve visited quite a few times and we always feared what would happen. Would she go with him? Would she show herself? But there was never an incident. She was well behaved and Steve never had a clue.

We kept her our secret.

And Rachel, an oddity or oddities, aged. Even in spirit form.

She showed herself to us a few years after the first sighting. She was taller, larger and her hair had grown. There came a point when instead of candy we started leaving toys and trinkets. It then progressed to her no longer wanted toys.
She left the ball we'd placed on the table for three nights in a row.

Sam and I were reading in the living room and she said, "I am too old for that."

Sam lowered his newspaper. "Well, what do you want?"

"Make up," she replied.

"Oh, god,"Sam groaned and picked up his paper. We were a happy family.

Talking to her and seeing her was not common though. I don't want anyone to think that. She could always be felt and though she wouldn't voice her feelings, it was like she had. You understood her feelings and needs and she grew with us. We really did care for her like she were our niece. She changed too. She went from angry and sad to happy, content.

None of this seemed normal, but it hurt no one, was not frightening or scary. It was what it was and we lived it. It became normal for us.


When the news came that  we had to move and I'd received the transfer I'd put in for, Sam and I had the same response. What about Rachel? Would she come with us? Could she?

We started talking about it a lot and addressing her.

"You know you can come with us, right, Rachel?"

She never responded but the feeling in the house became one of anxiety. Whether it was her or us I'm not sure.

As the move date came closer and closer the feeling in the house got  more stale and thick. "Is she going to freak out?" Sam asked. "What is going to happen?"

The vans were packed. We were set to go.

"Rachel," I called into the empty space. "Rachel, we're ready to go. Are you coming with us?"

There was no response. "Rachel. Rachel, come on."

"No, " she said. "Seek peace for yourselves."

We felt her leave. It was instant. We were happy that she'd gone on, but sad too. She wasn't with us anymore. She had been warmth and light.

It took a while for us to get used to the new house and Rachel's absence and realize she wasn't coming back. The house felt empty and something that had been there for a long time was missing. We were glad to know she'd moved on. A sense of peave came with the knowldge that there is something to love after death, but when that leaves, it is hard to deal with. It is death all over again.

"Rachel, where are my keys?" I'd call and walk to the kitchen.

I was always disappointed, even though I knew when I got to the table, they wouldn't be there.