An Unexpected Visitor

“Hon… I’m telling you, I’m pregnant! Look, my boobs are full, and they’re all tingly. And I’m queasy. I felt exactly the same with William!”

“I’m not arguing with you Bec… just trying to think when we might have had an accident. There was that time a couple of weeks ago, but… I’m not sure. Isn’t it too soon to tell? That’s what all the websites say.”

Rebecca was starting to get annoyed. “I don’t care what WebMD says! I know what my body is telling me!”

“But it’s only been two weeks. You can’t even take the test yet. I just don’t understand how you can be so sur …”

“Ugh! Greg, please! Just shut up for once, will you! The next time you wake up with your tits on fire and your uterus doing somersaults, you let me know, okay. You fucking know-it-all!”

Greg knew when Rebecca was reaching a tilting point. Wisdom gleaned from roughly four years of marriage told him that he was perilously close to crossing from the relatively smooth waters of a minor marital squabble into the anything-Rebecca-is-holding-can- become-a-projectile zone. And, besides, he grudgingly had to acknowledge, she did have a point. A quick pivot was in order.

“Babe, I said I believed you.” (He actually hadn’t.) “Really. I do.”

Rebecca was fidgeting with the barrette she had just taken out of her hair. “It’s just, I need you to listen to me, you know? Really. Really. Fucking. Listen.” Her voice was starting to crack. “Is that so goddamn hard for you to do?”

Greg could see the tears welling up in her eyes. Trying to avert the impending deluge, he acquiesced. “No. It’s okay, sweetie. I do believe you. Really. Please, don’t be upset.”

But his words of consolation were too late. Rebecca set her barrette on the dresser, and moments later broke into tears. “You’re such a jerk! This is all your fault!” she sobbed.

One of the great ironies of their marriage, at least from Greg’s point of view, was that when Rebecca needed a hug the most was precisely when she was at her least huggable. And she wasn’t shy about demanding one, either, which of course made the act even more onerous.

“Damn it! Can’t you see I need a hug?”

As always, when confronted with this situation, Greg stood there like a deer caught in headlights, wondering what to do next. After a moment’s indecision by him, almost as if on cue, Rebecca snapped angrily, “Just go! You’re useless!” Which, fittingly, is exactly how Greg felt.

He was really in for it. Complying with Rebecca’s directive and backpedaling now would be the worst thing he could possibly do, akin to leaving a lit firecracker on a gas stove. There’s a good chance the whole marriage could go up in flames. On the other hand, approaching Rebecca to console her in her current state could also prove perilous. A few days earlier, after an equally pointless argument, the fist pummeling he received on his approach had come dangerously close to blackening an eye.

Having learned from that last encounter, Greg moved swiftly, passing through Rebecca’s defenses almost unscathed. As he hugged his wife—strongly, almost violently at first, but with increasing tenderness—she wept on his shoulder, and as always, her tears had a gently magical effect, softening his brusque resolve. This was probably one of the reasons he was so reluctant to perform the hug… a part of him wanted to remain resolutely intractable. After a time, she stopped crying and took a step back, looking for the tissue box that she forgot she’d taken to the living room earlier in the day.

“I’ll get you a tissue,” offered Greg, trying to be helpful. “I know where they are.”

“Can you get me a couple?”

“I’ll just bring you the whole box...”

Greg silently debated whether to continue his train of thought. He was on the verge of letting it go and simply fetching the tissues, but in the end he just couldn’t help himself.

“You know,” he murmured cautiously, already regretting what he was about to say, “we already have a box of tissues in the living room. You could just leave the one box in here. It would save us the troub...”

Instinctively Greg ducked, just as Rebecca’s barrette whizzed past his head.

“Asshole!”

-------------------------------------

The alarm seemed to go on endlessly. Greg thought he’d turned it off, several times, but, fumbling in the dark, he’d clearly been pressing the snooze button. He wished “snooze” had never been invented. Better to just get up all at once, he thought, than drag it on interminably.

Stumbling out of bed, he made his way to the bathroom sink, flipped the light switch, and found himself slightly taken aback by the man staring at him from the mirror. Was that actually him? Big black crescents, like half-sunken spare tires, semi-circled his eyes. Had it been so long since he shaved? And look at that unkempt mop on his head.

Ugh. Why was he so tired? And where was everyone? It wasn’t like them to let him sleep in. Actually, it wasn’t like him to sleep in, period. Especially on vacation.

Looking around the hotel room, it started coming back to him. It was another migraine. Came on suddenly, like a jackhammer he couldn’t stop, pounding his skull until merciful sleep came to his rescue. He hadn’t had migraines in years, at least not this intense. Why now, he wondered.

Try as he might, the details of the previous evening would not come into focus. He still wasn’t sure how he ended up alone. Everyone’s things were here. There was William’s suitcase, at the foot of the room’s second queen bed, his clothes thrown asunder, just like at home. And his sister’s tiny suitcase was here too, all her cute little things, still packed so neatly, almost as if she didn’t plan on staying very long. That was silly, Greg thought. For some reason, the idea of it upset him. He would tell her to unpack when they all returned to the room.

They must have gotten an early breakfast, he surmised, remembering that the hotel promised a free buffet before 9AM. Blinking, he glanced over at the clock, and saw that it was nearly a quarter of ten. They should be back soon.

Why hadn’t she unpacked yet?

Thump THUMP!

His heartbeat crashed abruptly, like a raging ocean surf breaking on his eardrums. Thankfully, it wasn’t painful as much as it was just loud.

Thump THUMP!

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. There were hurried footsteps, running back and forth in the hallway, approaching the room, and laughter—lots of giggling. He could tell the kids were playing tag.

“Settle DOWN!” shouted Rebecca tersely after one particularly loud and piercing shriek of delight reverberated through the corridor. That must have been… uhhm… that was… Thump THUMP! The surf had come back, full bore. Thump THUMP! Oh God, what was her name? His little girl. The pounding in his head had completely derailed his train of thought. He heard the swipe of the keycard in the door, and the gentle click of the mechanical lock as it released. What was her name, damnit? Why couldn’t he remember?

It dawned on Greg that, for some inexplicable reason, he couldn’t even picture his daughter’s face right now, let alone remember her name. Sitting on the rumpled comforter now bunched up near the foot of his bed, he waited, ashamed and guilt-ridden, for the door to open.

-------------------------------------

“Well, Bec, gotta give credit where credit’s due. You were right.” Greg held the test under the bathroom vanity lights, and there it was. Clear as day. No mistaking that plus sign staring him in the face for anything else. “You won’t need to take another test, hon. You are definitely preggers!”

“I know!” Rebecca scoffed chidingly at Greg, “You’re the one that doubted, not me.”

Rebecca sat in her pajamas, one leg tucked under her at the foot of their bed, slowly combing her hair in a strangely hypnotic rhythm, momentarily lost in thought about baby names. Greg handed her the pregnancy test and flopped down beside her, cautiously hopeful that he wouldn’t have to spend the next ten minutes, or ten years, apologizing profusely for his erstwhile lack of faith.

She glanced at the test, and tossed it on the dresser. “Yep,” she grinned, and much to Greg’s relief, mused cheerfully, “Like I said, knocked up like a door on Halloween!”

Greg chuckled, still a bit nervous but grateful that Rebecca’s sense of humor had returned, “I thought it was ‘knocked up like a cheerleader,’ but that works too!”

“I was just thinking, this one’s gonna be a girl.” Rebecca said, and then, practically taunting Greg with her conviction, “I just know it!”

Greg lay there for a moment, debating whether to tell her it was scientifically impossible for her to know that. “You know that’s crazy talk babe,” he said at length. Rebecca stiffened a bit, steeling herself for another meaningless squabble.

“But sure, let’s go with that,” Greg smiled at her, “It’s a girl.” Maybe she’s right, he thought. They’d find out at the gender reveal eventually.

Pleased that Greg didn’t take the bait she’d laid out, Rebecca rolled over and wrapped her arms around him in affectionate embrace. “Love you sweetie.”

“Love you too, Bec.”

-------------------------------------

“Hi Daddy!”

Bounding from the open door to the bed, the two wildlings gleefully pounced on Greg like a pair of lions on an injured calf.

“Daddy! Daddy! Do the trick! Do the trick!”

Greg tried to sit up, but the effort was futile. His kids had him pinned, quite expertly at that, each sitting on an arm.

“Come on, Daddy! Do the trick with your thumb! You know the one. Where you make it disappear!”

“I can’t do anything until you rugrats let me go,” said Greg, half-teasing, but oddly feeling somewhat panicked. “Can I get up?”

His plea clearly having fallen on deaf ears, the children began a rhythmical chant of “Dis-a-peer! Dis-a-peer! Dis-a-peer!” interspersed with bouts of giggling.

“Come on William. You and… uhh… uhhm… your uhh…” Damn! What was her name? Greg had briefly forgotten his earlier predicament, "...your... uhh... you and your, uhh... your sister need to get up.” But now that it was fresh in his memory, he suddenly didn’t feel like playing this game anymore. He didn’t want to show them the disappearing thumb trick again. He just wanted them to get up. Right away. “Get off me! Now!” The next thing Greg knew, he was standing up and Rebecca was yelling at him.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Greg? You could have hurt them getting up like that!”

William was crying, and Rebecca had grabbed her daughter, holding her tight.

“I’m sorry. I… I’m really sorry. I don’t even remember getting up. What did I do?”

Thump THUMP!

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to her!” ‘Becca glared at him unflinchingly. Greg saw real, unbridled animosity in her eyes, as if she blamed him for something she could never forgive him for.

Where did this sudden upwelling of anger come from? What had he done? What was going ON!

Thump THUMP! Greg’s heart was racing again, worse than before. He looked down at his daughter, her head turned away from him, half-hidden behind her mother’s hip. A Hello Kitty hair clip pulled her long black hair back into a single ponytail that swayed gently back and forth as she cried.

So graceful, he thought. Just like her mother. Only the other day, he’d remarked to ‘Becca how much the two looked alike. That picture on the piano taken of ‘Becca when she was just seven could easily have been of their daughter.

Greg leaned over and carefully took a knee in front of them. His daughter, whose name had simply disappeared from his memory, slowly turned to face him. The light from the cheap wall fixture glinting off the tears that had welled up in her eyes, she appeared to him angelic.

Reaching gently to her, Greg entreated, seeking absolution, for what, he did not know. “Baby girl, I’m so sorry. What did I do? Please, tell me. How do I make it better?”

Taking his hand tenderly in hers, her breathing still slightly hitched after having cried for some time, she whispered to him softly, “It’s okay, Daddy. I forgive you...” Her green eyes, even deeper and hazier than her mother’s, pierced his troubled heart, and he crumbled.

“...for everything.”

-------------------------------------

“I’m fine, damnit! I don’t need to lie dow…” Rebecca let out a shriek. She was really hurting. The searing pain stabbing at her lower abdomen was getting worse.

“Ma’am, please. We’re here to help. We need to get your vitals, and the only way we can do that is if you lie back down. So please. The sooner we can figure out what’s going on, the sooner we can relieve some of that pain.”

“Babe, listen to them. They’re going to help, but you have to let them do their job.”

“I told you I didn’t want an ambulance! It’s embarrassing!” Rebecca started to cry again.

“Sir, we’re going to need you to sit up front. It’s for your own safety.” The technicians motioned for Greg to exit the ambulance. They had their lines down pat. A lot easier to tell family that the front cabin was the safest place for them than to say they’d just be in the way if they stayed in the back.

“Becca, please do what they ask. I’ll be right up front if you need me!” Greg almost fell out of the ambulance as he was exiting. “I love you, babe. It’s going to be okay!”

He disappeared from sight, but Rebecca heard the passenger door open, and felt the ambulance tilt and wobble as Greg got in. Increasingly exhausted, she finally lay back on the stretcher and let the EMT take her vitals.

Oxygen, 99. That’s good.

Pulse, 114. That’s not so good.

Blood pressure, 165 over 100. That’s terrible! What the hell was going on! Her mind raced. Appendicitis? Pancreatitis?

“Ma’am, based on where your pain is centered, and how you describe it, we think you may have an advanced ectopic pregnancy. It’s critical that we get you to the hospital right now. In the meantime, in order to bring down your blood pressure, we need to set up an IV and give you something for the pain. Do we have your consent to do this? ”

Ectopic pregnancy? Oh Jesus, no! Please no.

“Ma’am, did you hear me? I need your conse…”

“Yes, do it. Do whatever you need to.”

-------------------------------------

“Hey, c'mon! There’s hardly any milk left! What happened! When I checked last night, there was just enough for my cereal!”

Being a devout night owl, there were only a few things Greg could tolerate about mornings, and even fewer he could say outright that he liked about them; his bowl of cereal, piled high with granola and assorted berries, was one. It was the perfect union of crunchy and sweet that got him going to start the day. And, since he wasn't a coffee person, this medley served as his morning pick-me-up. Needless to say, much like a coffee drinker denied their first shot of jet fuel, Greg’s demeanor left something to be desired if anything came between him and his beloved cereal.

Looking across the table, he saw Rebecca’s three bags of English Breakfast steeping in an oversize mug that, for all intents and purposes, could have served double duty as a small bucket.

“Well, I used some for my tea. You know I need milk for my tea.”

“Oh, come on! You didn’t use some. You used it all!" Greg was fuming. "What am I supposed to put in my cereal? Huh? You can use just about anything… coconut milk, or even vanilla ice cream if you want. But I can ONLY use milk! How many times are we gonna have this discussion? Seriously?”

“I like milk in my tea, thank you very much.” said Rebecca, quite unapologetically. But a smile was slowly creeping over her face. “And relax, I bought an extra carton on my way home. It’s behind the seltzer.” Sure, Rebecca could have told him earlier, but it was so much fun to see him stew.

“Ohhh, that’s not right, ‘Bec. I wouldn’t do that to you before you’ve had your sacred tea. You’re playing with fire, girl.”

Greg found the milk and gave it a good shake before opening it. After pouring some for himself, he shouted upstairs, “William! Breakfast!”

“Be down in a MINUTE!” Came the eleven year old’s slightly testy response.

“He gets it from you, you know… that impatient streak.”

“Oh gee… thanks. First you prank me and then you insult me? This day is certainly getting off on the right foot.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I couldn’t help myself. You’re just so cute when you’re all angry and scruffly.” Rebecca edged her way over to Greg’s side of the table and snuck in a quick peck on his bald spot.

“Okay, that’s the last straw!” Greg boomed as Rebecca returned to the counter. “You know how self-conscious I am about my bald spot!” He grabbed her around the waist, leaned in, and planted a big wet kiss, well, more of a playful bite, on her neck. “There, that’ll teach you!”

As he was pulling back, his shirt’s collar button somehow got stuck on a strand or two of Rebecca’s hair, and she let out a quick yelp.

“Oh crap, I’m sorry babe,” said Greg, mostly sincere, but with a tinge of sarcasm. “I guess that’s karma for you, though!”

“Ha! Haaa!” Rebecca retorted, emphasizing and prolonging each ‘ha’ for several seconds. “Very funny, honey! You clearly missed your calling.” She paused for a moment, somewhat thoughtfully, suddenly struck by something she remembered. “You know, you were saying that a lot last night.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m sorry. You kept saying ‘I’m sorry’ in your sleep. Woke me up a couple of times. Didn’t sound like a nightmare, though. Do you remember it at all? Your dream?”

Greg leaned back in his chair and peered upwards towards the ceiling, as if somehow the answers he was looking for were scrawled upon it. “I know I had a really strange one last night," he said at length. "The details are pretty fuzzy, though.” After a few seconds, he stared down at his cereal, clearly dissatisfied with the ceiling’s ability to provide any insight. “Let me think for a minute.” He closed his eyes and tried hard to recall, but only a few surface-level details revealed themselves. “We were on vacation. I... I don’t know where, but we were in a hotel. And I had a very bad migraine.” Greg paused, “I can’t remember much more than that.”

“You kept shouting, ‘Get off me!’ And there was one time, you said, ‘I’m sorry baby girl. I’m so sorry.’ Do you remember who you were talking to? Was it me?”

Baby girl? Get off me? Could that have been ‘Becca? Who…wait…

All at once, it hit Greg with a jolt. He remembered. Everything.

“Oh my God. No, ‘Bec, it wasn’t you. You were there, though. And William was too. But we had another child! A daughter. She looked exactly like you. In fact…“ Greg ran to the piano and returned holding the photo of Rebecca he’d recalled in his dream… “This was her. I mean, it’s you, but it was our daughter in the dream. How old were you here?“

“Seven. I’d just moved from Seattle.”

“Yes! She was around seven in my dream. She had a Hello Kitty barrette. We were all playing, wrestling on the bed. And then something happened, and she was crying. You were furious at me. William was crying too…”

“You know,” Rebecca cut in unexpectedly, but a helpful expression brightened her visage. “It just occurred to me, the... the ectopic pregnancy was seven years ago. Maybe,” she continued, momentarily donning her unofficial therapist cap, “I mean, it’s possible that… subconsciously... you have some unresolved feelings about all that? And those feelings are manifesting as, well… a seven year old girl in your dream?”

“Wow… that’s good, 'Bec. Maybe you missed your calling?" Greg paused thoughtfully for a moment before continuing, "Honestly, I don’t think my dreams are that insightful, but I guess the mind works in mysterious ways." He paused again. "There was one thing that really stood out in the dream, though. I simply could NOT remember the girl’s name… which kind of makes sense, since, y'know... she didn’t have one. But in the dream, it was like I forgot it. I'd forgotten my own daughter's name. And it was driving me crazy. I felt so guilty. Like the guilt was so thick, I could hardly move. Do you know th...”

“Pa…”

“Ohh… yeah, I know what you m…”

“Papa…” Unbeknownst to Greg or Rebecca, William had been sitting at the foot of the stairs for the past couple of minutes listening to them. His eyes were slightly watery, as if he’d been rubbing them or was about to cry. “The little girl in your dream. Her name… it’s Josephine,” William said nervously. “She looks just like mom did when she was a kid, and she has a Hello Kitty hair clip. I’ve seen her too.”

Rebecca turned with a start and, visibly unnerved, stared at William. “What was that?” she said tersely, “What did you say?” The disquiet on her face was plain to see as she crossed the kitchen towards him. “What did you say her name was?”

“Josephine. Th… that’s her name, mom. I never thought anything of it. But then I heard papa telling you his dream, and... and that’s her.” William was now crying softly, worried that he’d done something wrong, and frightened by his mother’s uncharacteristically sharp bearing.

For his part, Greg just stood there, momentarily paralyzed, shocked, both by William’s implausible statements and by his wife’s unexpected reaction. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of the right words. He had been, for all intents and purposes, rendered speechless.

“How do you know that?” Rebecca’s agitation was climbing. She’d now taken William by the shoulders, gripping him tightly. “Is this some kind of prank? Tell me!”

Fear-stricken, William erupted into uncontrollable tears.

Rediscovering his voice, Greg found himself tugging at Rebecca to let go of their son, “Take it easy, ‘Bec! He didn’t do anything.”

“How do you know her name?” Rebecca cried at William, even as Greg pulled her away.

“Sh… she told me, mom. In my dream. She told me her name.”

Rebecca and Greg both froze. Things like this were not supposed to happen in real life. There had to be a rational explanation.

Regaining some composure, Greg attempted to console his boy, “Son, everything’s going to be alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. Your mom is not upset with you. We’re just having a really hard time believing what we’re hearing.”

“I’m n-not making this up. I p-promise.” William was still fighting back the tears.

“Of course you’re not, William. This is all just one crazy, wacky coincidence. I mean, people don’t share dreams!” Greg turned to his wife, who was now staring somewhat blankly at the floor while gently massaging the lower left part of her abdomen.

“What the hell’s going on ‘Bec! Are you okay? What’s all this about?”

“How, Greg? How does he know?” Rebecca looked incredulously at her husband, “I… I never told anyone.”

“Told anyone what?”

Rebecca shut her eyes and took a deep breath. And then another. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes, which were now also starting to tear up.

“Remember we’d come up with a few names for the baby? I was convinced it was going to be a girl, but you wanted to think of some unisex names as well?”

Greg grabbed Rebecca a tissue. “Of course I remember. We were leaning towards Bailey I think, or was it Taylor?”

“Yes, you liked Taylor. But... I knew it was a girl. Right from the start. You remember that, don't you? Don’t tell me how I knew. I just did. And I never told you or anyone else, because I was sure you wouldn’t like it, but I was set on the name Josephine, after my grandmother Joja. That was her name, Greg. It was Josephine. Just like William said. And that was seven years ago. That's as old as the girl in your dream.”

Greg stared at his wife in disbelief, dumbfounded by what he’d just heard. “So what are you saying? William and I were visited by the seven year old spirit of our unborn daughter, who you named after your grandmother?”

“I… I don’t know. I just, I can’t believe this is happening.” Darting back to William and hugging him tightly, she apologized, “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to frighten you. This is just so strange, and confusing, and…”

“It’s okay mom. I don’t blame you.” William paused, looking up at her nervously, “But now I’m scared.”

“Why, sweetheart? Why are you scared?”

“Because, Josephine… she… she’s been in my dreams before, mom. More than once.”

Rebecca tried to appear unfazed by William’s words, to mask the sense of unease slowly growing in her belly, but the sudden rush of blood from her cheeks had turned her face several shades paler. Turning to Greg, she saw that he was equally staggered by what William had revealed.

“Tell me, baby” she managed to voice, at length, “Did she say anything else to you? Do you remember?”

William thought hard for a moment, and then brightened a bit. “She doesn’t talk very much, but she really likes this game where she bounces a ball and tries to pick up some little pieces while the ball’s in the air. There was this one time she invited me to play with her. I didn’t know what the game was called, so I asked. She told me it was called jacks, and that she used to play it with you and grandma. When I woke up, I thought that was a little weird, but, y’know, pretty normal for a dream.”

“Yes,” said Rebecca who, smiling tearfully, leaned in and embraced her son warmly. “That’s pretty normal for a dream, Jacks was my favorite game as a child. My mom would play it with me almost every day after school, until I was about your age. Sadly, I lost them years ago, somewhere in this very house I think.”

Cautiously, William asked, “Was the ball blue with little pink smiley faces all over it?”

At this point, no longer able to fight back her own tears, Rebecca gushed, “Yes, baby. It… it was.”

Greg joined mother and son, and the three cried in each other’s arms for a good minute before William stood up abruptly. “I know this is gonna sound crazy,” his face was suddenly full of enthusiasm, “But I think I might know where they are!”

“Where what are?” said both his parents, almost in perfect sync.

“The jacks! The last time she was playing with them, we were in the attic.”

The three of them bounded up the stairs to the second floor, William taking the lead. Greg reached up and pulled the dangling rope to lower the attic staircase, and they proceeded to climb the narrow steps.

Caught off guard by the sharp change in atmosphere, Greg started coughing as soon as his head poked through into the attic. “Uhg… I always forget how hot and dusty it is up here.” Climbing the last few steps, he gave a tug on the hanging light switch, and… nothing. “Oh crap, we never changed the bulb!”

At that moment, however, the attic burst full of light. William had found his way to one of the rafter windows and yanked the drapes open. Instantly, a dust storm heaved and billowed through the sunbeams but, much to everyone’s relief, dissipated rather quickly.

“She was over here.” William had settled near some boxes by the window and was going through one of them.

“Be careful, William. There are some fragile things in those boxes. Family heirlooms.” Said Rebecca, mildly concerned.

“And there could be mice or other critters up here too,” chimed in Greg.

Before long, though, all three were busily sorting through old boxes and chests, when Rebecca got a puzzled look on her face. “Wait a minute. This is looking very familiar to me all of a sudden. Like, I remember coming up here as a kid, but… hold on…” She put the jewelry box she was holding back in the chest she’d just opened, and turned toward the window. Kneeling down, she noticed a thumbhole in one of the floor slats. Carefully pulling up on the slat, she revealed a series of tiny nooks under the floorboards, inside one of which was tucked away an old cloth sack.

The three unlikely treasure hunters stared at each other for a moment in complete astonishment.

“Go ahead mom. Open it!” said William excitedly.

She turned toward Greg, who looked back at her and nodded his approval. Rebecca cautiously–and carefully–loosened the drawstring that tightly cinched the bag closed. Reaching in, her palm felt the familiar dull pricking of the jacks as she grabbed and rolled them around in her hand. And at the bottom of the sack, there was her ball. She took it out and handed it to William.

“See mom. Blue with little pink smiley faces.” William was beaming.

Rebecca smiled back. “Hold on. There’s something else in the sack.” Rebecca delicately pulled out a folded up piece of paper and gently opened it. “It’s a letter,” she said, completely dumbstruck, “from my grandmother, Josephine!”

“Well, read it!” exclaimed Greg.

"Yeah, mom! Read it!"

Rebecca took a deep breath, and then dried her eyes, which had begun tearing up again. “Okay.” she said, “Here goes.”

“My dearest, dearest granddaughter, Rebecca,

I’m so terribly sorry and guilt-ridden that I stole away and hid your favorite toy. But I trust that one day you will find it, along with this message. I know the story I’m about to tell you will, on the whole, sound utterly absurd, but you must believe me when I say that every last word of it is true.

“Many years ago, I was visited in my dreams by, well, me: A younger version of me–much, much younger. But also older, if that makes any sense. It didn’t to me either, until she told me the story of how she came to appear to me that night. Mind you, this was unlike any dream I’d ever had, or have ever had again since. It was more like a fully lucid conversation, upon waking up from which, I was able to remember everything in vivid detail.

“If what she told me is true, then many years from now, you will be a happily married woman, and will have an amazing little boy, whom you will have named after your husband’s father, William. I was overjoyed to learn that you will all be living right here in the house you grew up in, the house in which I raised your mother, and in which we all shared so many happy memories.

“But, returning to the future, your future, several years after having William, you will become pregnant again, this time with a little girl. To be more precise, me. Or at least the spirit of me. I couldn’t explain to you how that’s possible. All she told me was that this is how reincarnation works, at least in this particular instance.

“She continued and told me that she, or rather we, would not be reborn in the next cycle, that she was to be ectopic, and we would have to wait until the following cycle to return. She also said that you, Rebecca, were to have a fatal accident while pregnant with her, creating what she called a double jeopardy situation. Confused? It’s okay if you are. I was too.

“It seems that, because she was never going to survive to birth in any case, the double jeopardy created by her dying in your accident enabled her to “communicate downstream” as she put it, to a former incarnation of herself, that being me, to relay the future cause of your death in order to prevent it. No need for two lives to be lost–hers and yours–when one–hers–was to be forfeit regardless.

“And that is why I took these jacks. You see, had they not been “lost” all those years ago, shortly after you became pregnant again, your husband would be teaching William how to play on the upper landing of the staircase. Something would distract the two of them and the jacks would be left there. A few minutes later, you’d need to go downstairs, but, in the dark, you wouldn’t see the jacks and, barefoot, you’d step on them. Losing your footing, you’d tumble down the stairs and suffer a massive head injury, killing you.

“That is the precise moment that creates the double jeopardy. By my hiding the jacks, even if the ectopic pregnancy could not be altered, at least one tragedy could be averted, and William would need not grow up motherless.

“I can only imagine what you’re thinking right now having read this. You always thought I was a little eccentric, perhaps even a bit batty, especially in the years after I’d had the dream. I never knew for certain if the dream was real, because she's never come to me again. Perhaps she’s visited you? I imagine that, for you to have found this letter, she must have, in one way or another. And, thankfully, you remembered your “secret” hiding spot.

“My dear Rebecca, I hope this wasn’t all too much for you to process. It was for me, and took me several years to finally accept what had happened. Please know that I love you with all my heart and soul, and I always, always will.

Truly,

Grandma Josephine”

The three of them looked at each other somewhat apprehensively and in utter disbelief, not quite sure what to make of the letter.

“It has to be fake,” said Greg after a long, pregnant pause, more to reassure himself than anything else.

“But I wasn’t born until after great grandma died. How would she have known all of this?” asked William incredulously.

Glancing over at Rebecca, who was closely examining the letter, Greg interjected, “One of your childhood friends must have pulled a prank on you and snuck in here with this.”

“No… I don’t think so. This… this is Grandma Joja’s handwriting. And the nook where it was hidden. Only I knew about it, at least I thought I was the only one. She must have seen me up here one day unawares.”

“But it can’t be real, ‘Bec. I mean, this is crazy.”

“I know, babe, but I… I think it is. Everything that’s happened… your dream, William’s dreams, my certainty that the baby would be a girl, and William knowing her name, which I never said to anyone, and finding the jacks, and the letter. It has to be real, Greg. It has to be.”

“Well, I think it’s real, mom! I believe it. This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened!”

But a heavy look suddenly took over Rebecca’s face. “Sorry William. I know you’re excited. But not a word of this. That goes for you too, Greg. Not a word. To anyone. Ever. You guys hear me? They’ll call us crazy. This has to be our secret. Promise me.”

“But mom! My friends…”

“Promise me!” Rebecca’s edict thundered through the attic.

“O-okay. I promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

William paused, because he knew that the sanctity of a pinky promise could not be broken, and he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to go there.

“Pinky promise?” Rebecca asked again, more intently this time, offering her own pinky for the deed.

“Papa? Do we have to?”

“I think we need to respect your mother’s wishes here son.” Looking at Rebecca, Greg too unfurled and extended his pinky, grabbing hers in a solemn bond of secrecy.

“William, we all do this together.” said Rebecca soberly, “We need you here.”

Knowing the sheer pointlessness in resisting, particularly when both parents were in agreement, William finally yielded. “Fine,” he said, and entwined his pinky with those of his parents, “My friends would never believe me anyway.”

“It is done,” said Greg, “We shall never speak of this to anyone besides ourselves… unless,” he paused and glanced at his wife, “Unless… we all agree that it’s the right thing to do.”

Briefly considering the addendum to the oath they were about to pledge, Rebecca nodded her consent. “Agreed.”

William, still miffed about not being able to tell his friends, but mildly encouraged by his dad’s last minute add-on, grudgingly accepted. “Agreed,” he sighed.

Rebecca took a deep breath to collect her thoughts. “William, you go on downstairs now, okay? Your dad and I are going to straighten up here a bit.”

“But mom, I never get to come up here! Can’t I…”

“No! Not right now,” Rebecca said firmly. But upon seeing how distraught her son had become, added in a more gentle tone, “But we’ll come back up and explore again soon. Maybe tomorrow? Does that sound good?”

“I guess… but I... I never get to do what I want!” William stormed back down the narrow attic staircase, his stomping so loud it sounded like the house would come off its foundation. “It’s not fair being eleven!” he shouted from his room, just before slamming his door.

Confident that William was now out of earshot, Rebecca turned to her husband and took his hands in hers. He looked back at her inquisitively, but also mildly concerned.

“What is it ‘Bec?”

“So, I’m not sure this is the right time and all. I was going to tell you earlier, but I didn’t want to alarm you until I knew for sure. Now, with everything that’s happened this morning, I’m fairly certain… in fact, I know it… I’m pregnant.”

Greg’s head dropped like a sack of dry cement, as he let out a long sigh.

“And I’m one hundred percent sure… it’s a girl.”