A Gift from the Grave

It was a warm Saturday. Sandalwood incense burned on the counter. The dryer whined loudly, releasing subtle bursts of Snuggle into the air. I had just finished cleaning the house and was sitting down for lunch when the radio suddenly turned on.

“Don’t Let Me Down” by Daya blared through the speakers.

I stood to turn it off, but something in me froze. That was her song.

Instead of shutting it off, I lowered the volume and dropped to the floor, leaning my head against the speaker.

Then—
Knock knock knock.

A gentle tapping on the door.

Before I could get up, the door creaked open. I stiffened, wondering who would come in unannounced—until I saw them.

Faded black Vans, with an anarchy patch, stitched in red on the top of the left shoe. Laces tucked under the tongue.

“Olivia.”

“Girl, what are you doing on the floor?”

“Oh, I... I don’t know. What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my big sister. Why else?”

She knelt down beside me and took my hand in hers. I stared at her, heart racing.

“No, really. What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I just be here with you, without a reason?”

“No, you can’t. And you know why.” A tear escaped down my cheek. “You’re not real. You can’t be.”

Olivia smiled, just a little. “I am. Sort of. And I am here because I do have news.”

“Please don’t tell me someone died.”

She laughed softly. “No, not that kind of news. The opposite.”

She tightened her grip on my hand.

“You’re pregnant.”

I blinked. “What? That’s not funny."

"I promise I'm not trying to be funny."

"You know what the doctors said. It’s not possible.”

“I do, and I also know how long you've tried. I also know how hard it has been for you, since... well, you know, but I pulled some strings,” she said, grinning. “I know it feels impossible, but trust me. She’s on the way.”

“She? How do you know it’s a girl?”

Olivia leaned in and hugged me. Her arms were warm and tight around me. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

She stood. “This is a good thing. Don’t stay stuck in your sadness. I’m still around. Always will be.”

“Olivia, wait—”

“I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

She stepped outside, and I scrambled to follow.

But she was gone.

I turned back into the house. Everything was dim, messy, just as it had been before I fell asleep. Clothes scattered, and a thick scent of burning wood.

I sat up in bed, feet touching the floor, trying to steady myself.

Was that real?

I grabbed my keys, pulled on pajama pants and slippers, and drove to the nearest Walgreens.

I bought a test and went straight to the bathroom.

My hands trembled as I held the unopened box. It was just a dream, I told myself. It can’t be real.

Finally, I took the test and waited.

Three minutes.

I turned it over.

—

A week later, I sat beside my husband in the doctor’s office.

The OBGYN walked in, smiling. “While it’s early, your blood work confirms it—congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Jeffries. You’re going to have a baby!”

I turned to my husband. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Her? How do you know if it will be a girl?”

“I just know,” I said.

—

Eight months later, I gave birth to a healthy baby girl, nine pounds and two ounces.

A nurse approached. “Do you have a name for her?”

I smiled as I watched her coo softly in her father’s arms.

“Olivia. After her aunt.”