by Bobbi Holmes
They sat on the boulders Walt had moved from the gravesite, waiting for the authorities to arrive for Bud’s remains. They told Bud all they knew about Alex’s and Anna’s deaths.
“All this time I thought Alex had shot me that day, and all this time he was already dead before it ever happened.”
“I’m just trying to understand why Teddy came up here and killed you,” Danielle said.
“It was all my fault,” Bud groaned. He buried his face in his palms, as if blocking out the world while trying to come to terms with what he had caused.
After a few minutes of silence, Walt asked Bud, “What do you think happened?”
Bud lifted his face from his palms and looked at Walt. “I walked in on Teddy and Josephine. Teddy had claimed she just worked for him, but she was obviously more than an employee. I didn’t realize Teddy had seen me. I went straight to Alex.”
“Why to my father?” Walt asked.
“Maddie’s illness had so disrupted your family because your mother spent so much time there, with Teddy gone so often, not willing to move Maddie to Astoria, saying it wasn’t fair for her. But it was that he didn’t want her there, I realized that day. Alex had told me he wished he could move Maddie to Marlow House to live. It would have made things so much easier on everyone. Alex even suggested it to Teddy, but he refused.”
“Why would he refuse?” Danielle asked. “I’d think that would have made his life easier. He could have spent more time with his girlfriend.”
“It’s because of his uncle August. August and Frederick Marlow did not get along. If Maddie moved under the Marlow roof, Teddy worried his uncle would change his will.”
“After you told Alex about Teddy’s girlfriend, what happened?” Danielle asked.
“Alex told me he planned to tell Maddie the truth and get her to move to Marlow House. After all, Alex knew Maddie was not in love with her husband, so he understood she would not be heartbroken. She had only stayed with Ted out of a sense of loyalty.”
“And Teddy knew Alex was going to talk to her?” Danielle asked.
“After I spoke to Alex that day, right before I left for here, Teddy showed up and tried to make excuses for what I saw—or, as he said, what I thought I saw. I told him I had no intention of telling anyone—other than Alex. He begged me not to tell Alex, and I said it was too late, I had already talked to him, but that he could probably catch him at Marlow House and tell his side of the story before he told Maddie.”
“I saw him that afternoon,” Walt muttered. “When he stopped by Marlow House.”
“I can’t imagine what happened that day between Teddy and your parents. I believe when Teddy left me, he only intended to talk to Alex. I’m sure he thought he could convince him not to tell Maddie. If he intended to kill them, I think he would have killed me first instead of letting me return here. But whatever went wrong at Teddy’s house that day, he obviously worried that because of our conversation that morning, I could incriminate him in your parents’ and Maddie’s deaths, so he came up here looking for me.”
“He obviously took Walt’s father’s coat and hat, which he wore up here,” Danielle mused.
“I imagine he wanted Bud to think it was my father riding up,” Walt said.
“Yes. Not that I would have assumed he was going to shoot me, but Teddy rarely came up here,” Bud said.
“While Walt and I will always wonder what really happened the day of the fire, I imagine once you move on, you’ll find out,” Danielle said.
“Will I see them again?” Bud asked.
“I’d be surprised if you don’t. Not sure about Teddy, but I imagine you’ll see Walt’s parents and Maddie,” Danielle said.
“I don’t want to see Ted,” Bud grumbled.
“I don’t blame you,” Danielle said.
“Can I ask you one question?” Walt asked.
“What’s that?” Bud asked.
“Where exactly is this gold mine of yours? And where is the gold you’ve already removed?”
When they were about twenty feet from Cory’s car, Heather saw her, Caitlin. The teenage ghost sat in the passenger seat, waiting for Cory. Heather stopped abruptly and turned to Brian. She whispered something in his ear. Afterwards, Brian nodded and looked to Cory and said, “We’re going to walk down there and wait for the responders by the van while you and I have a little talk.” Brian pointed down the dirt road in the opposite direction from Cory’s car.
Cory gave Brian a nod and started down the road with him. They had walked just six feet when Chris let out a whistle while shoving his hand in one pocket. When Brian stopped and turned to Chris, Chris pulled something from his pocket and tossed it to Brian while saying, “Here’s the keys, if you want to wait in the van until they arrive.”
Brian caught the keys in midair and gave Chris a nod before turning with Cory and heading down the dirt road.
“Do you want to do this alone?” Chris asked Heather as they stood in the middle of the dirt road, looking at Cory’s car and its ghostly occupant.
“No. If she sees you, she might stick around long enough to understand she’s dead,” Heather said.
Together Heather and Chris approached the car.
“Caitlin, we would like to talk to you,” Heather called out.
“Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.” Caitlin wrapped her arms around her chest and slumped down in the car seat.
“We just want to help you,” Chris called out, now by the hood of the car.
Caitlin looked up at Chris. “Who are you?”
“I’m Chris. I just want to help you.” Chris smiled, showing off his straight white teeth.
She turned to Heather and glared. “I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t like her!”
Heather stopped in her tracks and looked from Caitlin to Chris.
“Will you talk to me?” Chris practically cooed.
Sticking her lower lip out in a pout, Caitlin looked at Chris and gave a nod.
Heather rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother. I’m going back to Walt and Danielle. Good luck, pretty boy.”
Caitlin no longer sat in the passenger seat of Cory’s car. Instead, she sat with Chris in the back seat.
“Am I really dead?” Caitlin asked.
“You sort of already knew, didn’t you?” Chris asked.
Caitlin nodded. “I guess. But sometimes I could get Cory to talk to me, and I figured I couldn’t be dead. I mean, Cory can’t see ghosts, can he?” She looked eagerly at Chris, waiting for an answer.
“I suspect Cory talked to you in his dreams,” Chris suggested.
“Is that what I am, a ghost?” Caitlin asked.
“You are now until you move on. I’m sure your mother is eager to see you,” Chris said.
Caitlin shook her head. “No. She’s mad at me. I told her I didn’t take drugs anymore. I promised. But I lied.”
“I don’t think she’s mad at you. Heartbroken, maybe,” Chris said.
“She’s mad. She gave away my gold nugget,” Caitlin said.
“You were gone, Caitlin. When people die, people left behind often give away some of their belongings. It’s how it works. If your mom had died first, you would have probably given away some of your mother’s things.”
“I suppose.” Caitlin let out a sigh. “I really don’t want to be dead.”
“So you didn’t mean to kill yourself?” Chris asked.
Caitlin frowned at Chris. “Gosh, no. Why would you say that?”
“You took a lot of drugs that last time,” Chris said.
Caitlin shook her head and looked out the window, staring at nothing in particular. “I regret everything.”
“Time to forgive yourself, Caitlin. Time to move on. Your mother is waiting.”
Caitlin looked at Chris. “Promise?”
Chris smiled softly. “Promise.”
The next moment Caitlin vanished.
Thirty-Nine
It had been almost a week since they brought Bud’s rema
ins down from the mountains. Because of the personal effects buried with the body that had survived all those years, authorities were fairly confident of his identity. Danielle discovered she didn’t need to buy a cemetery plot for Bud to keep her promise. They learned through Ginny that Bud’s sister had purchased a plot for him, and it remained empty.
To quell some skeptics, they ordered a DNA test of the remains. Chris paid to put a rush on the order, knowing Bud would not move on until they laid his remains to rest near his sister. Danielle understood the DNA results might not prove his identity, since they relied on his family’s DNA already on file. Fortunately, the results showed the remains likely belonged to Bud, and on the last Saturday in August, a group stood in the Frederickport cemetery for a gravesite service.
“Why are there so many people here?” Bud asked Danielle as he looked around. “I’m flattered, but I’ve been dead for a hundred and fourteen years.”
“The museum decided to move the official opening for the gold nugget exhibit to this afternoon,” Danielle told him in a whisper. “Finding you, well, it sort of plays into that rather nicely.”
Bud frowned. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.” He looked back to the open grave and watched as they lowered his casket. He found the sight unsettling, so he turned his attention to the surrounding crowd.
Danielle stood to his right, with Walt next to her. On his left stood Chris and Heather. Brian, the man he had once shot at and who couldn’t see or hear him, yet had helped bring him down from the mountains, stood some distance away, standing with the police officer he had encountered when first returning to Marlow House, along with two little boys. He remembered one of the little boys could see and hear him. Brian continually looked their way, and since Bud knew he couldn’t see him, he wondered what Brian kept looking at.
The young man named Cory, who’d rudely walked through him several times, was also there. He stood with a woman who, according to Danielle, was also a relative of his, named Ginny Thomas. Standing with their little group were two other couples, with one man holding a small child.
After they lowered the casket into the ground, the minister said a few more words, and then the crowd dispersed. Bud watched as Brian and the people he had been standing with headed their way.
A moment later, Brian stood talking to Chris and Heather while the other police officer stood talking to Danielle and Walt. The taller of the two boys who had been standing with the police officer wandered closer to the open grave, looking down curiously at the coffin. The smallest of the two boys stood directly in front of him, staring up at his face. Bud looked down at him. The boy smiled.
“I wanted to say goodbye,” the boy whispered. “Danielle says you’re moving on after your funeral. Would you do me a favor?”
Bud arched his brow at the boy and leaned down toward him. “What kind of favor could I possibly do for you?”
“Would you say hi to my mom for me?” the boy asked. “Tell her I love her.”
Bud’s smile vanished. “Your mother, she’s on the other side?”
The boy nodded.
“Evan, what are you doing?” the taller boy, who had just wandered over from the open grave, asked. “You look goofy talking to yourself.”
“I was just thinking out loud,” Evan said, flashing a smile to Bud.
Bud’s smile returned, and he gave Evan a wink while saying, “I’ll find your mom and give her your message. I promise.”
They stood by the Packard in the cemetery parking lot, Walt, Danielle and Bud.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the museum with us before you move on?” Danielle asked. “The exhibit is about you.”
Bud shook his head and sighed. “No. I’m ready to move on. There is nothing left for me here. And I’m anxious to see Alex. I need to apologize to him for what I thought all this time.” Bud looked at Walt and asked, “Do you want me to give your parents a message?”
Walt considered the question a minute and then said, “Tell my parents I’m sorry I’ve kept them waiting so long to see me again. I hope they understand.”
Bud smiled at Walt, reached out as if to touch his wrist and said, “I’m sure they do.” He disappeared.
“It’s too bad Bud couldn’t remember where his gold mine was, or where he stored all that gold he took out of it,” Walt mused.
“Why? The last thing we need is to find another treasure,” Danielle said.
When Walt and Danielle arrived at the museum, people were already milling around, some looking at exhibits while waiting for the formal unveiling of the newest one, while others chatted with friends or helped themselves to the refreshments offered in the lobby.
Millie Samson greeted Walt and Danielle when they stepped into the museum.
Giddy with the response to today’s program, Millie said, “If you hadn’t found Bud Benson’s remains up in those mountains, I can’t imagine we’d have this sort of response. Already we’ve received two nice donations and several new members to the historical society.”
“I’m glad it’s worked out for the museum,” Danielle said, glancing around.
“There are refreshments. Help yourself,” Millie said, pointing to one table set up in the lobby. “The program doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.”
“What is that?” Walt asked, pointing to another table in the lobby, this one filled with an odd assortment of glass jars, each half filled with a cream-colored substance.
Millie glanced at the table and then laughed. “Oh, that’s Heather’s donation. It’s sourdough starter. Gold miners would often take sourdough starter with them, which they’d used to leaven their bread. According to an article Heather showed me, some of them actually slept with the starter to keep it warm. She thought it would be a fun gimmick to give away sourdough starter at the exhibit opening. A clever idea—a little odd, perhaps.” Millie paused a moment, shrugged, and then added, “But the Glandon Foundation does so much for the museum.”
After Millie walked away, Walt and Danielle wandered to the table with the sourdough starter. Each jar sported a twine bow. Danielle picked up one jar and turned it in her hand. She looked at Walt and said, “This is one of the jars I gave Heather.”
“Planning to make sourdough bread?” a voice behind Danielle asked. Danielle turned around and found Lily standing behind her, Ian by her side, with Connor in Ian’s arms.
“Not really,” Danielle said, placing the jar back on the table.
“I guess Heather ignored the part in my instructions where I told her to just toss the discard the first week. Instead, she fed it.” Lily chuckled. “I need to give her some discard recipes or Frederickport’s going to face a flour shortage before long.”
“I don’t understand,” Walt asked.
“Think about it. If you start with one jar of starter, divide it, feed each jar, and then repeat the next day…” Lily began.
Walt cringed. “It doubles every day.”
Lily nodded. “Exactly.”
Danielle glanced at the table. “You have to give Heather credit. It’s a clever way to get rid of it.”
“Yeah, well, giving away starter is sort of like giving away a puppy,” Lily said.
“A puppy?” Danielle frowned.
“It’s a living thing, and you have to feed it every day,” Lily reminded her.
Heather stood by the doorway leading to the portrait exhibits. She looked out at the main exhibit area where today’s program would take place. The spirit of Eva Thorndike stood by her side, watching the gathering crowd.
“Why are you standing here by yourself?” Eva asked.
“I’m not alone. You’re here,” Heather reminded her.
“There is a handsome gentleman who keeps looking your way. A rather dashing-looking one with gray hair. Sometimes a mature man can be rather appealing,” Eva purred.
Heather shrugged. She looked over at Chris, who stood on the other side of the room talking to an attractive woman. From Chris she looked over t
o Brian, who stood with Joe and Kelly, talking. Occasionally he would look over at her, as if waiting for some signal. Ginny Thomas walked up to the small group and started talking to Kelly.
“Eva, did Caitlin move on for sure?” Heather asked.
“You asked me to check, so I did. From my sources, yes. She moved on.”
Heather looked over at Eva and frowned. “What are your sources?”
Eva smiled at Heather and vanished.
Heather let out a sigh and looked over at Brian and the others. Ginny no longer stood with them. She had moved over to the newspaper section, inspecting the newest additions.
Glancing around, Heather took a deep breath and headed toward Ginny.
Ginny didn’t see Heather coming. Her back was to her. She stood by the rack holding the bound editions of the Frederickport Press.
“Ginny, can we talk?” Heather asked.
Upon hearing Heather’s voice, Ginny twirled around, facing Heather, her eyes wide.
“What do you want?” Ginny demanded in a whisper.
“I’ve come to apologize. Please accept my apology,” Heather asked.
Confused, Ginny furrowed her brows. “You admit what you did?”
Heather took another deep breath and said, “Please hear me out.”
Ginny studied her and then nodded.
“I did not touch your bookshelf. When it fell, it scared the crap out of me. It almost crushed me. I had no reason to push it over. Why would I?”
“You threw things at me. I saw you,” Ginny accused.
“I felt bad about rushing out of your house, and I came to talk to you about it. And then you accused me of knocking your bookshelf down. Why would I do that? And I was already stressed from what happened just days before. You have no idea how terrifying that was, being drugged, and then waking up in the middle of the forest, tied to a tree, defenseless to any wild animal, and it was almost nightfall.”
“You really had nothing to do with the bookshelf?” Ginny asked in a whisper.
“No, I didn’t. And I admit, I sometimes have a temper. But if I did throw something, I never would try to hit you. I would never do that. Well, maybe I would with a Nerf ball. But there are no Nerf balls in the museum.”
