moment he touched it, everything instantly came back, and he’d made the wish to live again. He’d felt the heat and the power of the magic—and then… well, he’d woken up in a snowdrift, then in Ralph’s Honda, and finally in the bed at Queen Patsy’s house.
“I have to find my daughters.”
“No problem,” said Jenny. “I’ve been Googling all the over the place.” She pulled out a small laptop.
Larry understood that technology had made many leaps since his demise. He’d seen enough computers on his ramblings to know what they were—even if he wasn’t sure how they worked. Curious, he watched Jenny flip open the machine and start tapping on the keys.
“Their names are Beatrice Alice and Catherine Laverna, right?”
“Yes,” said Larry. “How’d you know?”
“Tamara and I looked up their school records.” Tap, tap, tap . “You filed a missing persons report a couple hours before you disappeared.”
“Did they… were they…” He swallowed the knot his in throat. “Found?”
“You mean dead?” She looked at him, sympathy in her gaze. “Not here. But…” She turned the laptop around and showed him the screen. “Adoption records for Beatrice Alice and Catherine Laverna, both with the last name of Stotten. They grew up in Tulsa, and still live there. They got married, had kids, and grandkids.”
“Adopted?” Bea had been six, and Cathy eight. Now his own children were older than he was. He’d been returned to the age he’d died, which made him thirty-two.
Jenny shrugged. “There’s nothing about them being found in town. Or how they ended up getting adopted.”
Had Lila’s brother kidnapped them, and then somehow grown a conscious, allowing them to return to Tulsa to be adopted? His stomach squeezed. Had Ean adopted them?
“Who raised my girls?”
“Leticia and Ernest Mortimer,” said Jenny.
Larry frowned. He’d never heard of them.
“Is it really important to know how they got there?” asked Jenny. “You wanted to know what happened to ’em, and now you do. Bea’s an accountant and Cathy’s a doctor.”
Larry looked away, his eyes hot with tears. His daughters were alive, and apparently doing well. And what could he do? Show up and say, “Hey, I’m your dead father?”
“I’d like to see them,” he said. He just needed to make sure they were okay. “Can you find out about Ean Whittaker?”
Jenny nodded. While she worked, he ate one of the energy bars. It wasn’t too bad, but the chocolate bar was much better. He’d forgotten how great food could taste.
“Dead.”
Larry blinked. “What?”
Once again, she turned the computer around and handed it to Larry. On the screen was an article from the Tulsa Tribune . It was dated the same day he’d died.
Three men and two little girls had been in a car accident. Apparently the car had stalled on a train track and been broadsided. Only the girls had escaped unscathed.
“My daughters lived,” said Larry as he returned the laptop. “And Ean and his goons died.”
Maybe Lila had made a wish, after all. It would be just like her to plan ahead like that, and very much like her to give up her own life for their girls. He felt oddly at ends. The driving force behind his re-animation, and his own wish to live again, seemed to be moot.
“What now?” asked Jenny.
“I don’t know.” He unwrapped another chocolate bar. “I’ll go to Tulsa and see the girls, and then… well, I guess I could live in Broken Heart.”
“Your house is kinda falling down,” said Jenny. She chewed on her bottom lip. “They’re gonna want to test you and stuff.”
“Who?”
“Doctor Stan.”
Larry shrugged. “That’s okay. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“I won’t let them hurt you.”
He reached over and chucked her under the chin. “You’re a good kid,