Twelve Months of Kristal: 50 Loving States Maine

Krista throws her head back, and her laughter tinkles out as if I’ve made a delightful joke.

But I let her know, “I’m totally serious. I am so not the person to do that job.”

“We’ll see about that,” Krista answers, her voice trilling with confidence and good cheer. “In any case, the decision has already been made, and I don’t have time to find someone else.”

“How about…” I start to suggest, at the same time, Krista informs me, “You see, a certain baby has decided that January 2 would be a fine day to make her debut.”

It takes a moment for Krista’s words to sink in, but when they do, I gasp and scramble out of bed. “Oh, my Santa! Is it time?”

“It’s time!” Krista confirms, sounding a lot less concerned about her daughter’s imminent arrival than me.

Leave it to Krista to bury the lead. I run out of the room, yelling, “Hugh! Hugh! It’s time!”

39

Hatsukoi

HAYATO

“That was so, so amazing! Can I hold your hand? I really need to hold your hand right now. Otherwise, I’ll think I’m dreaming and just float away.”

Kristal said that to me as we left the inn in Maine after helping so many ghosts crossover to the next realm. She appeared to be glowing. She was so happy. And that happiness must have been infectious.

“Don’t float away,” I said, taking her hand in mine.

And I didn’t let it go until we arrived at the private airfield.

“Mr. Nakamura, would you like something to drink before takeoff?”

The flight attendant’s question pulls me from the memory. And I find myself on my private plane, which had been refueled and is now finally ready to return to Tokyo.

There’s even a Japanese song playing overhead. Too bad it’s the theme from that insipid sequel to Boys Over Flowers. What was the ballad called again? Oh yes, “Hatsukoi”… First Love…by Hikaru Utada.

Instead of answering, my eyes fall on the People magazine, sitting on top of the empty seat across from me. The latest issue. It was supposed to be a gift for Kristal – a very small one and not nearly up to my usual standard. But I had known when I arranged for it to be waiting on the plane that she’d appreciate this small gift more than any other I could give her.

However, the magazine is still here, clearly untouched even though Krista took the plane to San Francisco yesterday on my orders. Had she even seen it?

Or had she, like me, been too sad to touch it?

Overhead, Hikaru Utada bursts into song’s English refrain, wailing “I need you” over and over again.

“Mr. Nakamura? A drink?” the stewardess asks again.

I rub a hand over my face and answer, “An Asahi, please.”

I let her go. And that was for the best. I remind myself of this fact as I wait for my drink.

She was never going to let the Jae-Hyun thing go. Even worse, she was hell-bent on dragging Norio into it.

Maybe if I had been able to explain the situation to him in private—that had been my plan the day before yesterday, but Norio’s surprise arrival the morning of New Year’s morning had caught me off guard. And I hadn’t been able to pull him away from his family for a quiet explanation before she came down waving those sketches.

Did she not realize that my rational brother wouldn’t believe her nearly as easily as I had? And if I had told him the truth—that not only could I see ghosts, but I was dating an elf with a “gift” for being able to sketch people who would soon be departed, he would never have looked at me the same. Or even worse, he would have insisted on getting me help… my time at the sanitorium burns hot like a stove that should not be touched at the back of my head. She left me with no choice.

So why can’t I stop thinking about her?

Why instead of opening my laptop to return work emails as I had planned, do I pull out my phone and scroll through my recent calls until I come to a number from Christmas Eve.

“Hello, Mr. Nakamura,” Hugh says when he answers the phone. “Is everything all right?”

He sounds surprised to hear from me, and I don’t blame him. I’m surprised to be calling him.

I swallow hard. “I’m not sure if you have access to this information. But I wonder if you know if Kristal Kringle made it back to the workshop yesterday.”

“I do have access to that information, actually. She didn’t make it to the workshop. She’s… ah … here with us. She showed up on our doorstep yesterday evening. She was a bit sad and asked if she might spend the rest of her days off in our guestroom.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, guilt tearing through me. I know why she was sad. Because of me.