Phantom Reunion

By Hannah Carter

When someone dies, the general assumption is that they will stay dead. But every Day of the Dead, the laws of time and nature look the other way, and deceased relatives can drop by for family reunions.

Deceased relatives like myself.

I waited at the end of the driveway where my family lived. Reynolds stood by me with his arms crossed.

“Are you ready, Eliza?”

I swallowed, grasping my gray dress. “Yes. No. I don’t know. How will I even introduce myself? ‘Hello, I’m your great-great-aunt. I’m a ghost, and my detective boyfriend tracked you down so I could say ‘hi.’”

Reynolds stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Sounds good to me.” His voice softened. “But if you wait too long, the Day of the Dead will end.”

“Maybe it’s for the best—”

“Nope.” Reynolds met my gaze. “You’ve backed out every other year and regretted it. We’re doing this.”

I sucked in a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s go.”

My stomach twisted into knots as we climbed to the porch of the two-story brick house. Marigold-shaped balloons decorated the outside, along with a sign that read, “Happy 16th Birthday, Hope!”

The knots strangled me until I thought I might double over. “Reynolds, I… I can’t. They’re celebrating—”

“And it means everyone will be here. It’s okay.” Reynolds reached for my hand. The whole being dead thing meant we couldn’t actually touch, but the gesture caused a warm sensation to pass through my particles. “They’ll be happy to see you, Liza.”

I adjusted my cloche hat one last time. “Knock on the door for me, please, Reynolds.” My voice was barely a whisper.

Reynolds banged on the whitewashed door. Inside, I heard the sound of living: laughter, dishes clattering, and someone yelling, “I’ll get it!”

Footsteps thudded toward the door, and a teenage girl threw it open.

I sucked in a shaky breath.

She sported my black hair, except hers was straight and reached past her shoulders. The same wide, button-nose. Same smile; same chin. But instead of my own dark eyes, hers were hazel, just like my brother Michael’s.

She stared at me. “Oh, great. Another ghost. It’s my birthday, okay? I’ll figure out who killed you or whatever you want tomorrow.”

“What?” I blinked. “No… I’m—”

“Look, I don’t care who you are. I’m off the clock. This is my sixteenth birthday, and my whole family’s in, including my grandpa. Probably the last birthday of mine he’s at before he joins you all on the ghostly side. So no, I’m not taking cases tonight.”

Case? I stared, mouth agape as my brain struggled to piece together her strange words. Could she see ghosts, Day of the Dead notwithstanding?

Reynolds stepped in front of me. “Listen, kid. We aren’t a case. My name’s Reynolds, and Eliza’s your great-great-aunt.”

She blinked, scrutinizing me, and I felt my cheeks heat. If I could physically hold onto Reynolds, I would’ve had a white-knuckle grip on his fingers.

She cocked her head like a bird, and a pang tightened my stomach. Even her mannerisms reminded me of Michael.

“I don’t know if you would have even heard of me, “I said. “Michael Booker was my brother. Your great-grandpa. I don’t know if anyone has mentioned—”

“He has.” Her voice lost its dull edge. “A lot. Did you get into a fistfight with a boy in high school and almost get arrested?”

A chuckle escaped me. “Well, yes, but for a good reason. It was the last time Billy ever tried to get handsy with a girl.”

Reynolds snickered. “You should see her fight poltergeists, too. I think she could have been a boxer in another life.”

I suppressed a grin. He wasn’t wrong.

My great-niece eyed me appraisingly. “Nice. I’m Hope by the way, in case you didn’t see the sign outside.” She stepped out of the way. “Everyone’s in the family room. Just… let me give Grandpa a heads-up before you float in and give him a heart attack.”

“Grandpa!” My words caught in my throat. “You mean…”

“He’s one hundred and four this year.” Hope grinned before she trekked into the next room.

Reynolds whistled. “One hundred and four? Imagine. I’m dating a one hundred and fourteen-year-old. You’re robbing the cradle.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, well, I was caught in a time loop in the Kentucky Derby for almost a century, so those years don’t count.”

We exchanged soft smiles before Hope poked her head back out. “He’s ready.”

I wasn’t.

Sucking in a deep breath, I headed toward the archway and re-entered my family, a century after I’d left them.

None of the incredulous faces looked familiar, save one.

Though time had given him wrinkles and stolen some height and hair, his hazel eyes gleamed out with the same mischief I’d known since the day he was born.

“You just died so you’d be younger than me for once, didn’t you?” His voice sounded strong, with only a bit of quivering. “Liza.”

Unladylike, body-shaking sobs exploded from the depths of my being. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I knelt by his knees, the closest to a hug I could manage in my current state.

Michael shifted forward, bones creaking. Tears streamed from his eyes, too. “What happened?”

I wiped my face, my words faltering. “Well, I died. That was a whole ordeal. Got stuck at the Kentucky Derby. Met a nice man.” I gestured to Reynolds, who leaned against the archway, arms crossed over his chest. “Traveled the world, stopped some poltergeists. I’ve had a very eventful afterlife.” I laid my hand on Michael’s knee, and he shivered. “And it looks like you’ve lived a good life, too.”

His gaze swept around the room. “My only regret is that you weren’t here to see it, but it’s not too late.” He beamed, and the years fell away from his face. “Would you like to meet our family?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hannah Carter is just a girl who wakes up every day hoping it will be the day she discovers she’s secretly a mermaid. Her debut novel, Depths of Atlantis, is out through SnowRidge Press now. Her stories have been included in several anthologies: Whispers From Before, The Never Tales, and Havok’s Casting Call and Prismatic. Her flash fiction piece “A Home for Nova” won the 2022 Flash Fiction Realm Award.

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