Proposal Read Free Page A

you get down on one knee and present her with your grandmother’s ring. They said it was incredibly sweet. But in the car, something happened, didn’t it? It must have, because no one could find the ring in the wreckage. It wasn’t on Jasmin’s finger, and it wasn’t in its velvet box anymore, either. What happened to it, Mark? Did you two have a fight coming home? Did she change her mind, and toss it out the window? Is that why you slammed your car into that cliff?”
    His face had gone bloodless—­as bloodless as it was possible for a ghost to look. That was all the encouragement I needed to go on, even though it was the worst thing I could have done.
    But it was cold, and it was Valentine’s Day, and I was in a cemetery with a boy who’d selfishly killed his girlfriend and now wouldn’t even allow others to leave flowers on her grave.
    â€œYeah,” I plunged on recklessly. “That’s what I thought. They’ll never find that ring, because that’s a coastal road, and it’s probably at the bottom of the ocean by now. But that’s why you killed her, isn’t it? Because she rejected you. You’re both so young, and she was going away to an Ivy League college next year, while you’re grades weren’t so good, so you were staying here and going to community college because that’s the only place you got in—­which there’s no shame in, believe me. I go to one, too. But maybe proposing to her was your way of trying to force her to be faithful to you while she was away, and in the heat of the moment, she accepted. But then the closer the two of you got to home, the more she realized what a mistake she’d made, so she—­”
    â€œ No! ” he roared, so loudly that I was surprised ­people from homes and businesses nearby didn’t come running outside to see what was going on.
    But there’s only one other person besides me in the Monterey Bay area who could pick up on spectral sound waves—­especially now that Jesse is going to school so far away—­and that person happened to be away at a seminarian retreat in New Mexico. I knew because Father Dominic likes to keep his present (and former) students up to date on his daily activities on Facebook.
    The day my old high school principal started his own Facebook account was the day I swore off social media forever. So far this has worked out fine since I prefer face-­to-­face interactions. It’s easier to tell when ­people are lying.
    Unless, of course, they’re ghosts. Then it gets a little tougher.
    Now the wind was really picking up. Not only that, but the temperature had plunged another four or five degrees, seemingly in the past few seconds, which was, of course, impossible.
    But so is what I do for a living. Which I’d really like to give up, because in addition to being dangerous, I don’t even get paid. At least as a guidance counselor, I’ll have a salary, 401K, and health benefits.
    â€œLook, Mark,” I said, ducking as a memorial stake vase that had been uprooted by the strong wind sailed in my direction, then clanged against J. Charles Peterson’s headstone. “Road rage is incredibly common. Almost seven million car accidents occur a year because of it. I get that maybe you didn’t mean to do it. But if Jasmin didn’t throw that ring out, where did it go? Until you admit it, you’re going to be stuck here on this plane of existence, which isn’t going to do you any good—­”
    â€œI’m telling you, I didn’t do it!” Mark roared. “And she didn’t throw away the ring! It was Zack. It has to be. He did it!”
    Floral arrangements from other graves began to whiz by, traveling dangerously close to my head. I was being pelted with flowers, which sounds pleasant, but isn’t. Those things hurt when being whipped at high velocity by the wind.
    â€œI