I sniffed, feeling better with him beside me. "Yellow Pages."
Nodding, he looked at the still-burning wad of Robbie's marshmallow. "Yes, Yellow Pages. A man of color took pity on me and drove me to your neighborhood."
I turned to him, aghast, but then remembered he was over a hundred years dead. "It's polite to call them black now. Or African-American," I corrected, and he nodded.
"They are all free men?"
"There was a big fight about it," I said, and he nodded, eyes pinched in deep thought.
I didn't know what to say, and finally Pierce turned to me. "Why are you so melancholy, Miss Rachel? We did it. My soul is avenged and the girl is safe. I'm sure that when the sun rises, I will go to my reward." A nervous look settled in the back of his eyes. "Be it good or bad," he added.
"It will be good," I said hurriedly, my hands gripping the watch as if I could squeeze some happiness out of it. "I'm thrilled for you, and I know you will land on the good side of things. Promise."
"You don't look thrilled," he muttered, and I scraped up a smile.
"I am. Really I am," I said. "It's just that-It's just that I tried to be who I wanted to be, and I-" My throat closed, as if by admitting it aloud, there was no way it could happen. "I can't do it," I whispered. Fighting the tears, I watched the fire, forcing my breathing to stay even and slow.
"Yes, you can . . ." Pierce protested, and I shook my head to make my hair fly around.
"No, I can't. I passed out. If you hadn't been there, I would have passed out, and he would have gotten away, and it would have been all for nothing."
"Oh, Rachel . . ." Pierce slid to my mother's chair. His arms went around me and he gave me a sideways hug. Giving up my pretense, I turned into him to make it a real hug, burying my face in his coat. I took a shaky breath, smelling the scent of coal dust and shoe polish. He had a real smell, but then, I'd heard most ghosts did.
"It's not bravery you lack," he said, his words shifting the hair on the top of my head. "That's the most important part. The rest is incidental. Real strength is knowing you can live with your failure. That sometimes you can't get there in time and that your lack might mean someone dies. It was cleverness that captured the vampire, not brute strength. Besides, the strength will come."
It sounded so easy. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him so bad, it made my chest hurt. "Will it?" I said as I pulled back to see his own eyes damp with tears. "I used to think so, but I'm so damned weak. Look at me," I said derisively. "Wrapped up like a baby, my knees going shaky when I get up to turn the TV channel. I'm stupid to think the I.S. would want me. I should give it up and go out to Portland to be an earth witch, set up a spell shop and . . ." My eyes started to well again. Damn it! "And sell charms to warlocks," I finished, kicking a snow clod into the fire.
Pierce shook his head. "That's the most dang fool idea I've heard since having ears to hear with again, and I expect I've seen and heard a few fool things since you woke me up. If I might could talk to the dead, I'd ask your father, and I know what he would say."
His language was slipping again; he must be upset. I looked up from where my kicked snow had melted, dampening out the fire to show a patch of wood. "You can't know that," I said sullenly. "You've never even met him."
Still he smiled, his blue eyes catching the brightening light. "I don't need to. I expect a man who raised a young lady with such fire in her would have only one answer. Do what your heart tells you."
A frown pressed my lips together. "I'm too weak," I said, as if that was all there was to it. "Nothing is going to change. Nothing."
I didn't want to talk about it anymore. My hands were cold, and I dropped the watch in my lap to put my mittens back on.
"Hey!" Pierce said, seeing it. "That's mine!"
My mouth dropped open, but in a moment, I looked at him in understanding. "No wonder the charm didn't work. It's your watch?" I hesitated. "Before it was my dad's? Maybe I can try again," I said. But he was shaking his head, clearly wanting to touch it.
"No," he said. "You're his daughter, and your blood that kindled the charm is a closer bond than a bit of metal and fancy. If he had been in a position to come, he would have." An eager light was in his eyes, and, licking his lips, he asked, "May I?"
Silently I handed it over.
Pierce's smile was so beautiful that it almost hurt to see it. "It's mine," he said, then quickly amended. "Pardon me. I meant that it once had been. I expect it was sold to pay for the stone they used to keep me from rising up to avenge my wrongful death. See here?" he said, pointing out a dent. "I did this falling into a post to avoid a nasty-tempered nag of a horse."
I leaned to look, finding a small comfort in his history.
"I wonder if my sweetheart's silhouette is still in it," he said, turning it over. My eyebrows rose when he wedged a ragged fingernail into a tiny crack and whispered a word of Latin. The back hinged open, and a folded paper fluttered to the ground.
"That's not it," he said with a sigh, and I picked it up, handing it to him.
"What is it?" I asked, and he shrugged, handing me my dad's watch to unfold the off-white scrap of paper. But then my heart seemed to stop when the scent of my dad's pipe lifted through my memory, rising from the paper itself.
Pierce didn't see my expression, and he squinted at the words. "My little Firefly," he said, and tears sprang into my eyes as I realized who had written them. "I write this on the evening of our day in the leaves as you sleep. You're still a child, but today, I saw the woman-to-be in you-" Pierce's words cut off, and he brought his gaze to my swimming eyes. "This is for you," he said, extending it. His expression looked tragic as he shared my heartache.
"Read it to me," I said, catching a sob. "Please."
Pierce shifted awkwardly, then began again. "Today I saw the woman-to-be in you, and you are beautiful. My heart breaks that circumstance will probably keep me from seeing you reach your full strength, but I'm proud of your courage, and I stand in awe at the heights you will achieve when your strength builds to match your spirit."
I held my breath to keep from crying, but my head started to hurt and a hot tear slipped down.
"Don't be afraid to trust your abilities," he said, voice softening. "You're stronger than you think. Never forget how to live life fully and with courage, and never forget that I love you." Pierce drew the paper from his nose and set it in my lap. "It's signed 'Dad'."