Reagan was nine years old when she realized she was different, and talked to spirits. Poor souls that were stuck between life and the after. Reagan too, sometimes, felt like an outcast. For the spirits were her only friends.
“Who are you talking to?” Reagan’s mother asked one day.
“Stan,” Reagan announced from her bedroom.
Her mother must have thought Reagan had a imaginary friend, like a lot of kids do.
“Mommy,” Reagan said as she ran down the steps. “Stan say he feels bad for what he did to you.”
“And what did he do to me?”
“He said he made you cry.”
“When he didn’t marry you.”
Her mother stopped what she was doing and sat down. She picked Reagan up, hugged her and said, “You have the gift your great grandmother did.