Max looked at the top of Rosie’s head and smiled. Her body was heavy and he could feel her deep even breaths against his chest.

There were so many things he didn’t know about her. Like where she was from exactly or where she went to school or what her favorite color was. Those were things she hadn’t shared with him yet.

They’d get there. Every day, she trusted him a little more. It took time and persistence but she’d finally started opening up. There was more she was hiding but they’d get there.

The things he knew about her now were enough. She was thoughtful, and though distant at times, it wasn’t from lack of feeling. It was because she felt too much. It had become clear to him that if Rosie was pulling back, it was because she was trying to separate herself from feeling. It was too much for her, too hard somehow. She was strong and incredibly brave for powering through hard situations and coming out on the other side in one piece.

Finding her in his parent’s kitchen had been the highlight of his day. She’d told him no every time he’d asked, but it was fear that held her back, nothing more. Wendy was the perfect person to drag Rosie along, it was just what she did.

He looked at the kitchen longingly, dying for a cup of coffee. He could shift Rosie around and grab a cup. It would just be a few minutes.

Carefully, he snuck out from underneath her and tucked a blanket around her. She barely noticed, cuddling into the couch in his absence.

In the kitchen, he grabbed a mug and poured himself a some coffee.

“I like her. She’s sweet,” his mother said as she joined him in the kitchen.

“She is,” he agreed.

“Private.”

“That too.”

“Though, she did lie to me.” Her tone was offhand.

“You want a mug?” He asked, not overly surprised his mom had picked up on Rosie’s fibs and evasions. At her nod, he turned and poured her a cup.

“Does she lie a lot?”

“She’s not like that, Mom. She’s not a liar.”

“I got that impression.” She stirred cream and sugar into her mug. “I did tell her I can smell a lie a mile away.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know, I didn’t bring her here to be interrogated.”

“You didn’t bring her here at all,” she reminded him. “Your sister did.”

“You’ll see.” It was all he could tell her. Things with Rosie took a little time.

“Despite the lie, I get a good feeling from her. She seems very genuine.”

Max considered the fact that Rosie wasn’t really Rosie’s name at all and kept his mouth shut.

“This is like pulling teeth Max. Tell me about her. Where is she from? What’s she like? How are things going?”

He let out a chuckle and sipped his coffee. “All that?”

“Anything would be a start.”

Max shook his head. “She’s private and she has some trust issues.” He lifted his shoulder and dropped it, then looked away. “I, uh, already broke her trust once and I don’t want to do it again.”

“You broke her trust?” His mother sounded shocked. “Max!”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he defended. “Anyway, the stuff she tells me is private. That’s how she needs it to be, so that’s how it will stay until Rosie’s ready to share more on her own.”

Her lips pulled into a smile. “Why, Max, I think that’s one of the most mature things I’ve ever heard you say. You sound like you’re in love.”

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted but a knock on the glass of the kitchen door.

“Oh, it’s Janice!” His mother rushed to the door and opened it to her neighbor. “What are you doing here? Happy Thanksgiving.”

She was an older retired lady his mother had made friends with over the last few years. She was a tall blonde who looked like she could have been on the Russian shot put team other than her accent, which was pure southern belle.

“Well, I saw Max’s truck and wondered if y’all were done eating if I couldn’t steal him away for a few minutes. I took his advice about compost and had a bin made but I was hoping he could make sure I was using it right. My Norman is just clueless when it comes to the outdoors.”

Max thought longingly about Rosie on the couch. He hoped the his annoyance didn’t show in his pained smile. “Sure. No problem.”

* * *

Dallas sat on the floor at Wendy’s feet content. He hated this particular Christmas movie but since it was a Murphy tradition, he didn’t say anything. Besides, it was a relaxing few hours after a special family meal and he couldn’t complain about that.

Max had gone to the kitchen with his mother a while ago. Rosie slept soundly on the couch for the duration.

He had to admit, she wasn’t as crazy as he’d first thought. He had given Max some shit about getting involved with complicated chicks but the commentary had fallen on deaf ears. But now, he could see why. There was something special about Rosie and he didn’t just mean her ghostly gifts.

She’d offered to have Thanksgiving with him. Everyone else acted like he’d be serving bubonic plague on a platter but Rosie, sweetheart that she was, still said she’d come.

Ghosts? Auras? He could barely figure out a basic relationship and keeping that shit together, let alone throwing all that other stuff in it. Still, Max seemed happy and that was enough.

Spending Thanksgiving with the Murphy’s had become his own holiday tradition. In the beginning, it felt strange that his own parents weren’t around. The rest of his family celebrated together, without him or his younger brother Jackson. Some years, he wondered if they even noticed something was missing. He hated to admit it, but the fact that no one seemed to notice their absence stung. No one ever called to ask why he wasn’t coming or if he could find the time. They didn’t Facetime or send silly pictures to one another saying “I miss you”. There was just radio silence.

He loved his family, he did. They were supportive, from a distance. Maybe it was a proximity thing, out of sight out of mind.

He was happy with his life in Jacob’s Beach and had no plans to follow any of them up north. That cold shit was not for him. He was meant to be a cop and he was meant to do it in the place he’d always called home.

“It has to be here.”

Rosie was sitting straight up, eyes open wide.

“What’d you say?” Wendy asked, turning her head.

“It has to be now.” Rosie’s voice was flat and deeper. Her face was expressionless, pale and strained, her eyes sightless.

“Where’s Max?” He asked quietly, never taking his eyes of Rosie.

“I’m not sure. What’s going on?” Wendy asked.

“It has to be here.”

“Rosie? Is something wrong?” Sam asked thoughtfully from his chair.

“Rosie,” Dallas said gently, squatting in front of her.

He shook his head, startled by the size of her pupils and her complete lack of awareness.

“Dal?” It was Sam.

“Can someone find Max? Now.” He felt more than saw Sam leave the room.

“What’s going on?” Wendy’s voice was serious and concerned.

“She’s asleep, I think.” He focused on Rosie. “What’s going on Rosie? What can I do?”

She stood, nearly knocking him over.

“It has to be now,” she murmured.

“Where’s she going? Rosie?” Wendy hurried after her friend who was making a somewhat drunken beeline down the hallway.

Dallas followed as Rosie staggered into Sam’s office. He met Wendy at the door and they watched with concern.

“Are we supposed to let her do this?”

“I don’t know what this is.” He tried to sound calm, but he had no clue what to do. “Last time I saw her do this Max woke her up. Where did he go?”

“It has to be here,” Rosie said again as she stood with her nose against a shelf of books. Her head moved back and forth, from one side of the shelf to the other.

“What’s she doing?” Wendy whispered.

“Speed reading?”

“Our family pictures?” She answered doubtfully.

Rosie reached up and began pulling photo albums down, one by one. They landed in a haphazard pile around her feet, some of them knocking her legs on their way down.

“No.” Rosie’s voice was lifeless and eerie. She reached for the higher shelf but was unable to reach. She put a foot on a low shelf and hoisted herself up, making the shelf wobble.

“Shit.” Dallas made a quick few steps and held it against the wall so it wouldn’t fall on her.

“It’s here,” Rosie murmured, still reaching.

More books flew past his head and land on the floor before Rosie finally stepped off the shelf.

“Dallas,” Wendy sounded panicked. “Shouldn’t we wake her up?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Max will know.”

Rosie dropped to the floor and began flipping the pages of the last album. Dallas squatted next to her and watched.

“I’m here,” she murmured. “I’m here.”

“You’re where?” Wendy asked gently.

Rosie’s head popped up and she turned to Dallas with blind eyes. “He’s here now.”

“Who’s here?”

They heard a door slam and then Max’s voice. “Rosie?”

Her head tilted as though she was listening for something very far away.

“In here,” Dallas called, never taking his eyes off her.

Max skidded into the doorway, his father close behind, and dropped to his knees in front of her. “You with me?”

Rosie blinked herself back into consciousness.

“There you are,” Max smiled warmly. “Where’d you go?”

She shook her head, disoriented.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He pulled her into his arms.

“What happened?” She whispered.

“I wasn’t here. I ran next door to talk to a neighbor. I thought you were sleeping.”

“She was.” Wendy brimmed with distress.

“She was but she got up and came in here. Then she did this.” Dal held his arms out to encompass the mess.

“What’s going on in here?” Sam asked bewildered.

“Can you just give us a minute Dad?” Max turned and asked his father. “I’ll explain everything and we’ll put everything back the way it was.”

His father hesitated but left the room.

Max sat back and looked around. “What is all this?”

Rosie was just as surprised. “I have no idea. It wasn’t like the other times I dreamt about her.”

“You fell asleep,” Max told her.

“Why would I do this?” Rosie looked around at the albums. “What are these?”

“They’re my dad’s old picture albums,” Wendy explained. “You were pretty adamant about the one you have in your hands.”

Rosie held it out and looked at it.

“Why?” She whispered.

Max stood and pulled Rosie along with him. “Why don’t you flip through it while we pick up the rest of this stuff.”

“No,” Rosie argued. “I made the mess-”

“We’ve got it,” Wendy assured her. “Sit on the couch and see what you see.”

Dallas, along with Wendy and Max, made short work shelving the books. If they’d been in a certain order, Sam would have to fix it himself. Before too long they were assembled around the couch, silently watching as Rosie inspected each picture in the album.

Max watched Rosie intensely and it became clearer than ever that his friend had already fallen in love with this girl. Dal had known Max for most of his life and had never seen him so invested in someone else before. Sure, he’d had a few girlfriends here and there over the years, but nothing serious. All his previous girlfriends had been casual for Max, something friendly and easy going he could pick up and drop when it ran its course. He couldn’t remember a single time one of Max’s relationships contained an ounce of emotional upheaval. Saying that Max was thriving on Rosie’s predicament wasn’t the right word, her pain clearly tortured him. It was more that Max’s love for Rosie made him stronger and more sure of himself, if that was possible. He stood taller for her.

It made him wonder if that’s what falling in love did for everyone or if it was just Max.

Rosie flipped a page and sucked in a breath.

“It’s her,” she whispered, her eyes snapping to Max’s.

“Wait.” He leaned closer to examine the picture she was showing him. “Her?”

“Right there,” Rosie said. “That’s her.”

She had described the woman right the first time, mid to late thirties with dark hair, World War II era clothing.

“Who is she?” Rosie asked.

Wendy shook her head. “These are my Dad’s old family pictures. We’d have to ask him.”

“Are you sure?” Max asked Rosie.

“One hundred percent,” she nodded.

The picture was of a woman standing in front of a house, smiling prettily with a set of keys dangling from her finger.

“Want me to get Dad?” Wendy asked.

Max looked to Rosie. “It’s your call.”

There were times when Rosie was bold and spoke with authority, times she was almost sassy and sure of herself. But times like this, when she hesitated and backed away from people, he was reminded of how isolated she kept herself

“We should,” she replied after a brief pause. “She wants us to know who she is.”

Max leaned in and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Okay, gross,” Wendy complained.

Dallas chuckled.

Max never took his eyes off Rosie. “You’re going to want to get used to that.”