Chapter 1

My husband finally remembered me three years after I'd died, but only because his childhood friend's chronic myeloid leukemia relapsed, and she required yet another stem cell transplant. He found my home and attempted to make me sign the donor agreement, only to realize that the cottage was vacant. He asked the neighbor about me, and the neighbor responded, "Are you talking about the young lady named Calla? She died years ago! "I heard she was dragged into donating her bone marrow while she was sick. She passed away a few days after the procedure." My husband refused to believe the neighbor's explanation. Instead, he thought the neighbor had conspired with me to fool him. Looking impatient, he said to the neighbor, "If you see her, tell her that if she doesn't show up in three days, I won't pay a dime of her bastard son's medical fees!" Realizing that there was no getting through to my husband, the neighbor gave a despairing shake of her head and left, muttering under her breath, "That poor kid starved to death years ago, too…" … My son and I were still lost souls three years after our deaths, all because we were too attached to this world to go into the light. My husband, Samuel Hawthorne, had since gone from being a struggling bottom-feeder to becoming an upstart of the business world, much to everyone's envy. I had betrayed him without hesitation in his lowest, darkest moment, hence his hatred for me. He probably wanted nothing more than to flay me alive, then rip me into shreds. Three years ago, Samuel forced me to become a bone marrow donor for his childhood friend, Francine Sawyer. A bone marrow transplant required aspiration, which involved inserting a needle into my bone for bone marrow extraction. I had no idea whether the invasive procedure had been done improperly or if my illness at the time had weakened my immune system, but for a week after the bone marrow aspiration, I was down with a full-body infection. I was down with a fever that left me delirious, and eventually, I passed away in my home. My son, who had been three at the time, died by my side when no one was left to take care of him. Samuel hadn't bothered to call or look for us in the last three years. Now, I held my son, Lucas Hawthorne's hand as we floated in mid-air and watched Samuel land kick after kick on the front yard gate of the farm cottage I'd previously lived in. Samuel had changed a lot in the three years we hadn't seen each other; his expression was cold and hard, and he looked both familiar and strange. Behind him stood Francine, the lower half of her face covered with a mask. She was dressed in splendor, and one could hardly tell that she was sick from the flush on her cheeks and her proportionate figure. Lucas heard the heavy banging as Samuel kicked the gate and burrowed into my arms out of fear. He tipped his face up at me, his sparkling eyes conveying a mixture of eagerness and trepidation. "Mommy, has Daddy finally remembered us? He hasn't come to see us for a long time, but he seems angry. Did I do something to make him unhappy? Also, who's the lady standing over there?" Lucas asked. I ruffled Lucas' hair, my heart tightening. There was a lump in my throat that kept me from speaking. "Calla Zimmerman! Get out right now! Stop playing dead inside!" Samuel roared from across the yard. The commotion was so loud that it summoned Ms. Nielsen from next door. Ms. Nielsen walked out of her yard and asked Samuel, "Who are you looking for, young man? This house has been vacant for years!" Samuel blinked, then regained his composure as he asked, "Isn't Calla Zimmerman staying here? Has she moved elsewhere?" Ms. Nielsen's gaze darkened. She sighed and said, "Calla, huh? She died three years ago." Samuel froze. Ms. Nielsen continued, "I heard she was made to donate bone marrow while she was ill. She died a few days after the procedure. Fate certainly is cruel." Francine's eyes widened as the blood drained from her face. She argued, sounding aggrieved, "Please don't spread such falsehood, ma'am. A bone marrow transplant is perfectly safe, and it certainly won't kill anyone. If she isn't willing to become a donor again, she can always tell me instead of pretending to be dead. It's bad luck." She'd raised her voice on purpose as if I might be eavesdropping somewhere in the yard. Samuel, who had been in a daze, relaxed after hearing Francine's words. His lips curled mockingly. "Does she think it's funny to make up stories like this? She could have at least done some research to make her lies more believable. Did she even bother looking up cases where people have died from bone marrow transplants?" Ms. Nielsen had no idea what Samuel and Francine were getting at, so she repeated firmly, "She'd been dead for days before anyone found her, poor thing…" A dark look passed over Samuel's face. He snapped at Ms. Nielsen, "I don't know why you're conspiring with her to lie to me, but tell her that if she doesn't show up in three days to become Franny's bone marrow donor, I'll stop paying for her bastard son's uremia treatment!" Ms. Nielsen gaped at Samuel, then shook her head as she sighed and made to return to her house. Samuel delivered yet another icy warning behind Ms. Nielsen. "Remember! She only has three days. If she refuses, I won't give her any money for the month, and she'll have to watch her bastard son die before her!" Ms. Nielsen had already turned her back on Samuel, but her eyes were rimmed red with tears as she mumbled, "That poor kid starved to death years ago. If I'd gone to check in on them, perhaps I could have saved him…"