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gray-fog blanket was gone and a bouquet of daisies popped back into view too bright to look at, too perfect to ignore. With the service over, I once again found myself escorted down the aisle.
    We had talked about a receiving line on the way to the church basement where traditional Midwestern funeral fare would be served. But the smell of the potato and ham bake made my stomach churn, and I barely made it to the bathroom before I vomited.
    The cool tile floor offered some relief. I pressed my cheek against it and waited for the queasiness to pass. It never did. Probably never would. Shoes clacked into the bathroom, drawing nearer until I could almost feel the steps. An old lady hunched over me and let out a thin stream of air. “Just like your daddy. Can’t hold your liquor and so young too.”
    Embarrassed by my dad’s reputation, I stood and brushed myself off. “You know my father?”
    “Honey, there ain’t none of us that don’t know your daddy and what he done.”
    Vomit rose to the back of my throat. Did this sour-faced woman know my family’s secret? All I had to do was ask. But I couldn’t. The look of disgust she shot my way was too much, and my body stiffened at her obvious disdain. “I’m nothing like my father.”
    The woman let her gaze fall to the stall where the sickly scent of vomit still hung in the air. She sniffed once, continued to the next stall and jammed the bolt in place.
    I slammed my own door and layered the toilet seat with paper. Stepping out of my heels, I squatted on the edge, resting my chin in the cradle of my knees. I tried to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Not even after I dialed Granny’s home phone and listened to her message.
    “Hello. You have reached Sophia Baker. You just missed me, but I will call you back as soon as I get your message.”
    “Hello. You have reached Sophia Baker. You just missed me….”
    “Hello. You have reached Sophia Baker.”
    I hummed a lullaby to drown out her voice.
    The door to the bathroom whooshed open. Banged shut.
    My temple pulsed, and I peered through the crack in the stall. Travis paced in front of the sink. In range, then back out. “You can’t hide in there forever, Gem.”
    I shifted my weight to relieve my foot. When had it fallen asleep? My cell phone fell off my lap and into the toilet. I almost followed it in.
    Travis stopped pacing and helped me as I stumbled from the stall. He led me to the sink, wiped my smudged eye liner from under my eyes and ran his fingers through my hair. He handed over my black messenger bag.
    Like a transient, I carried everything important in it. I brushed my teeth as Trav watched me in the mirror. “Ready?”
    I spit white froth into the sink and rinsed my mouth. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
    He slid his arm through mine and led me to the church basement. Under the scrutiny of Granny’s old friends, I lifted my chin and made my way around the dining hall. At every stop, Granny seemed to whisper in my ear, coaching me on each face and name and what they had meant to her. I welcomed her calming presence. When it became clear I could finally handle myself, Travis left to sit with his grandfather.
    And I could handle myself. As long as Granny guided me.
    Past my parents.
    Past the old biddy from the bathroom.
    Past my pain.

Chapter 7
     
    I picked at the hem of my dress and stared out the window of Trav’s truck. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
    The bobblehead nodded from the dashboard. “What’s this about, Gem? Seeing Granny’s ghost already?”
    “Not seeing. But I think she talked to me after the funeral.” I bit my lip to keep from telling Travis that Granny’s might not be the only voice I’d heard in the last few weeks. While I’d never actually talked to any of the members in my dream study group, I’d begun to think of these mental prods as belonging to the Dozen. It helped ease the loneliness at home.
    “Happens to me all the time. I can’t seem to get Grandpa