Trying not to look too smug, I took Jesse's arm and said, "Well, see you around." And led him to the dance floor.

"Things with Paul are . . . ?" Jesse raised his eyebrows questioningly as I slid my arms around his neck.

"Fine," I said.

"And you know that because . . . ?"

"He told me."

"And you believe him?"

"You know what?" I lifted my head from where I'd been resting it on Jesse's shoulder. "I do."

"I see." Jesse stood there as I swayed to the music. "Susannah? What are you doing?"

"I'm dancing with you."

Jesse looked down at our feet, but couldn't see them, because my long skirt was swaying above them.

"I don't know this dance," he said.

"It's easy," I said. I let go of his neck and took his hands and brought them around my waist. Then I put my arms back around his neck. "Now sway."

Jesse swayed.

"See?" I said. "You're doing it."

Jesse's voice in my ear sounded a bit strangled. "What's this dance called?" he asked.

"Slow," I said. "It's called a slow dance."

Jesse didn't say anything much after that. He really was catching on fast to twenty-first-century social customs.

I don't know how much later it was that I lifted my head and saw my dad standing there.

This time, I didn't jump out of my skin. I'd sort of been expecting to see him.

"Hey, kiddo," he said.

I stopped dancing and said to Jesse, "Could you just excuse me a minute? There's just somebody I have to, um, have a word with."

Jesse smiled. "Of course."

My heart swelling with adoration for him, I hurried over to the palm tree my dad was lurking behind.

"Hey," I said to him, a little breathlessly. "You came."

"Of course I came," Dad said. "My little girl's first real dance? You think I'd miss it?"

"That's not why I'm glad you came," I said, reaching out to take his hand. "I wanted to say thanks."

"Thanks?" Dad looked bewildered. "For what?"

"For what you did for Jesse."

"For Jesse?" Then comprehension dawned and he made as if to drop my hand, looking embarrassed. "Oh. That."

"Yes, that," I said, holding his fingers more tightly. "Dad, Jesse told me. If you hadn't made him come to the hospital when you did, I'd have lost him forever."

"Well," he said, looking as if he wished he were someplace - anyplace - else. In fact, he looked . . . well, almost as if he already were someplace else. He was much less opaque than usual. "I mean, you were crying. And calling me. When it was Jesse you should have been calling."

"I thought Jesse was gone," I said. "So I called you. Because you've always been there when I really needed you. And you were there for me then, too. You saved him, Dad. And I just wanted to let you know how much that meant to me. Especially since I know you didn't agree with my going - you know - in the first place."

My dad reached up to straighten my orchid. But for some reason, instead of being able to grab onto it, his fingers seemed to go right through the waxy petals. Suddenly, I realized what was happening. And there was nothing I could do but stand there, looking up at him, tears gathering beneath my eyelids.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Dad went on, meaning our disagreement about my going back through time to "save" Jesse. He was growing physically fainter and fainter with every word. And it wasn't just because I was looking at him through a veil of tears. "It's just that if you'd gone back and saved my life, it would have been like . . . well, like I'd died - and been hanging around for the past ten years for nothing."

"It wasn't for nothing, Dad," I said, holding as tightly as I could to the hand that, even as I spoke, I could feel slipping away. "It was for Jesse. And for me. That's why you're finally ready to move on. See for yourself."

Dad looked down at himself and then at me, clearly stunned.

"It's okay, Dad," I said, reaching up with my free hand to wipe the tears from my face.

He was almost impossible to see now . . . just a shimmer of color and light, and a faint pressure on my hand. But I could tell he was grinning. Grinning and crying at the same time. Just like I was. "I'll miss you."

"Take care of your mother for me," he said quickly, as if he were afraid of being snatched away before he could get the words out.

"I will," I promised.

"And be good," he said.

"Am I ever anything but?" I asked, my voice breaking.

Then, with a shimmer, he disappeared.

Forever.

It was a long time before I could go back to where Jesse was standing. I'd had to cry for a while behind one of the palm trees, then repair the damage those tears had done with the makeup from my bag. When I finally returned to Jesse's side, he looked down at me, and smiled.

"He's gone?" he asked.

"He's gone," I said automatically. Then I gasped.

"Jesse . . ." I stared up at him. "Can you . . . did you . . . ?"

"See you talking to your father just then?" he asked, the corners of his lips twitching a little. "Yes."

"Then you can . . ." I was completely dumbfounded. "You can . . ."

"See and speak to ghosts?" Jesse grinned in the moonlight. "Apparently so. Why? Is that a problem?"

"No. Except that . . . that would mean - " I could barely believe what I was saying. "That means you're a - "

"Querida," Jesse said, pulling me toward him. "Let's just dance."

But I was still too stunned to think of anything else. Jesse - my Jesse - was no longer a ghost. He was a mediator.

Like me.

"The only thing I don't understand," Jesse was saying, his breath warm in my ear, "is why it took him all this time."

I swayed in Jesse's arms, barely registering what he was saying. Jesse is a mediator, was all I could think. Jesse's a mediator now.

"Your father," Jesse said. "His moving on, I mean. Why now?"

I put my arms around his neck. What else could I do?

"Do you really not know?" I asked him.

He shook his head.

I smiled because I felt as if my heart might burst with joy.

About the Author

Meg (a.k.a.) Meggin Cabot is the author of the bestselling, critically acclaimed, immensely popular Princess Diaries novels - Volumes I-III ( The Princess Diaries; Princess in the Spotlight; and Princess in Love ) are published by PerfectBound, along with All-American Girl and two adult contemporary books, The Boy Next Door and Boy Meets Girl. She is also the author of (among many, many other books, including even more Princess Diaries titles) She Went All the Way ; Haunted: A Tale of the Mediator ; and two Regency-era novels, Nicola and the Viscount and Victoria and the Rogue . Meg lives with her husband in New York City. Please visit www.megcabot.com.