“We didn’t like each other when you were alive,” I muttered to my father. “You think living in my head is going to change that?”

“He rolled his tongue around in his mouth and made a sour face. “Got any gum? Mints?” “No. You going to hark again?” He shook his head. “Mouth tastes like the bottom of my shoe.” I didn’t ask him how he knew that particular flavor.”

“If you need us, for anything, never forget we are here for you. All of us. You have done amazing things to make this world a better place.” That was really sweet. And sincere. And if I didn’t look away from his kind expression, I was just going to cry like a little girl. “Wait until you see my encore,” I said.”

“What part of you is dead, my daughter?”I didn’t know—my sense of humor maybe?”

“You told Detective Stotts you think a wild storm is coming.” “I thought you were puking.” “Not with my ears,” he said.”

“My voice rose up and up with each question, even though I didn’t want it to. It’s called panic. I’m good at it.”

“Listen,” I said, cool as a 911 operator talking someone down from a ledge, “you’re dead. I’m sorry about that, but I am not going to let you possess me. So follow the light, or go to the other side, or hang around your own house and haunt your accounting ledgers or something. You do not get to stay in my head.”