The Book of Living and Dying by Natale Ghent

herself and Michael. At least he didn’t ask forexplanations. He seemed to simply understand how she felt without asking her to define it. It was strange how they could communicate and not have to say a word sometimes.
    “Maybe he’s having trouble crossing over,” Donna proffered hopefully. She pushed her coffee cup away and began eating Sarah’s french fries.
    “What do you mean … like, to the other side?”
    “Yeah. Maybe he’s stuck in limbo or something.”
    Sarah picked up a fry, swirled it in the ketchup and abandoned it at the edge of the plate when a wave of nausea threatened. The ketchup looked too much like blood. “I suppose it’s possible,” she said.
    “Of course it’s possible,” Donna asserted. “And it’s nothing to be ashamed of. There are lots of books about it. Our culture is so tight-assed when it comes to anything even remotely connected to death. We don’t recognize it as a part of life, the cycle of all living things. In Mexico they celebrate the Day of the Dead.”
    Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think a parade is going to help matters much.”
    “Not a parade,” Donna said. “Something more intimate, more personal. Some kind of ritual.”
    A ritual,
Sarah thought.
Is that what John needs?
    “Some people just don’t want to let go,” Donna continued. “They are so deeply entrenched in this corporeal plane that they can’t imagine anything else. So they hang around, occupy the same spaces they did in life, go through the same routines. They become ghosts … And most of them don’t even know they’re dead.” She whispered this last part like it was a national secret.
    Sarah considered the notion. “He loved living,” she agreed.
    “Of course he did,” Donna jumped in, apparently happy that her words had hit home. She tossed the fry she’d been toying with onto the plate and brushed her hands together. “Come on. Let’s go to the bookstore.”
    There were two whole walls of titles in the Witchcraft section, everything from dream analysis to spell and charm books. “I don’t know,” Sarah murmured, browsing the shelves.
    “Listen to this,” Donna said. She opened a blue hardcover called
The Hidden Meaning of Things
and began to read. “‘Psychologically, the forest is often interpreted as a symbol of the unconscious, where there are secrets to be discovered and perhaps dark emotions and memories to be faced.’”
    “Hmmm. Interesting,” Sarah said without conviction. She continued to peruse the titles.
    “There’s more. ‘Forests were considered places of mystery and transformation, and were therefore the rightful home to sorcerers and enchanters. The tree was believed to be infused with both divine and creative energy by the ancients.’”
    The tree.
The oak from Sarah’s dreams appeared in her mind, its leaves shining enigmatically in the dark. From somewhere deep in the woods, the girl beckoned. “No,” Sarah said, dismissing the image. “I need something specifically about ghosts.”
    Donna sighed, shut the book and replaced it on the shelf. “Okay, here’s one …
Rituals for Everyday Life.”
    Sarah glanced at the yellow cover and shook her head.
    Donna discarded it, yanking another from the shelf. “What about this?
The Book of Living and Dying.”
She held the book up. It had a faded black leather cover with white letters, shaped like little bones.
    “It looks used,” Sarah said, taking the book. It had a slightly musty smell. She opened it to the first page. The type was heavy and old fashioned, the paper filmy and yellowed. Parchment of some sort. Below the title, there was a pen-and-ink drawing of a spiral floating in an ocean of stars. Leafing quickly through the pages, Sarah landed on a section entitled “Ghosts.” She read a few sentences, then closed the book excitedly. “This one seems good.”
    “Excellent!” Donna said. She rose from the floor, where she had been sitting cross-legged, and brushed herself off. “We can