The couple smiled back. The man leaned toward her across his wife. “We understand. My brother’s like that. One little sting and he’s in the ER. Want me to make sure the thing’s gone?”
“Thank you very much, but I think it is. Besides, I’m visiting a friend. I’m sure he’ll check it out before I leave. But I really appreciate you stopping. It was very nice of you.”
They all waved goodbye, and the car continued down the street.
Once the couple was gone, Emma cautiously stepped toward her car. Part of her wanted to hop back inside and take off for home to seek medical advice, voices or no voices. The other side of her wanted more than ever to keep her appointment with Milo Ravenscroft. Either way, her purse was on the passenger’s seat where she had left it, so she had to at least stick her arm back inside to retrieve it.
Looking at her watch, she saw that she still had ten minutes before her appointment. Taking a deep breath, she resettled herself behind the wheel and shut the door. The air from outside had warmed up the interior. Leaning her head against the headrest, she closed her eyes and tried to think rationally about what had just happened. Hearing voices wasn’t normal for a healthy woman, she told herself. It just had to be an outcome of the stress she was under with Grant, not to mention the séance last weekend, coupled with her father’s story about her mother and Paulie and that darn Granny Apples character. If she’d never see, taste, or smell another apple pie again, it’d be fine by her.
And Kitty—where’d that name come from? The voices seemed to be in conversation—conversation about her—as if they knew her. Emma only knew one Kitty, and that was her aunt Kitty, her mother’s older sister, who was in a rest home in Palo Alto. Kitty had been there for the past two years following a horrendous stroke. Emma and her mother had just talked about planning a trip to visit Kitty. That must be it, she thought. Her subconscious was digging around, rooting up past conversations and piecing them together in some type of audible mirage. The theory calmed her down.
Maybe she needed a rest? Maybe all the stress of the separation and pending divorce had finally gotten to her. Kelly would be leaving soon for a long trip with her father, part of her graduation present, and her parents were shipping out on an Alaskan cruise with friends. Emma promised herself a little relaxation.
Feeling much better, Emma made her way to the front steps of Milo Ravenscroft’s home and knocked. The door was opened by Milo himself. He was a small man, barely five foot five, with a slight frame and stooped shoulders. His head was bald, with a half- circle fringe of brown hair. He wore thick glasses and appeared more like an aging accountant than a clairvoyant, or what Emma thought a clairvoyant should look like. He looked at her with surprise.
“Mrs. Whitecastle,” he said to her, “you could have called to cancel. You didn’t need to stop by to do it.” His voice was soft and comforting.
“Cancel? But why would I do that?”
“I just assumed … with the death in the family …”
Emma’s eyes shot open. “Death? You must be mistaken.”
Her cell phone rang. Emma pulled it out of her purse and read the display. “I’m sorry,” she said in apology to Milo. “It’s my father.”
“That’s quite all right. Please, answer it.”
Emma flipped open the phone. “Hi, Dad. I’m about to go into an appointment. What’s up?”
“Emma, I’m sorry,” her father began in a somber voice, “but we just heard from your cousin Marlene. Aunt Kitty passed away this morning.”
Her cousin’s house in Palo Alto was very large and beautiful, yet still maintained a homey, lived-in feel. Marlene had married an electronics executive who’d gone on to make it even bigger in the computer explosion. Her husband, Bob Singh, was the CEO of an Internet company that had managed not only to boom in the birth and growth of Silicon Valley but to survive the bloodletting of the dot-com bust that had followed.
Everyone who’d attended Kitty’s funeral had gathered at Marlene’s home following the graveside service. Emma, Kelly, and Emma’s parents had flown up the two days before for the funeral. Elizabeth and Paul were staying over several more days, but Emma and Kelly were returning home in the morning.
Emma entered the large, sunny kitchen with an empty platter. She placed it on a counter and began replenishing it with finger sandwiches from a nearby tray.
“Let the caterer do that, Emma.”
Emma turned and saw Marlene, who was busying herself filling a coffee carafe. Marlene and Emma were close in age and size, though Marlene had dark hair and eyes and olive skin, thanks to her father’s Italian heritage. Emma noted the dark circles under her cousin’s eyes.
“I like to keep busy at these things,” Emma replied. “And I see you do, too.”
Marlene Singh finished filling the carafe and passed it off to one of the catering staff. She gave Emma a sad smile. They didn’t see each other often, but from childhood through college they had been close, almost like sisters.
Emma stopped filling the serving tray and wiped her hands on a nearby dish towel. “You look exhausted, Marlene. Let’s go find someplace quiet, just the two of us.”
She took her cousin by the arm and gently guided her out of the kitchen and toward the patio door. Upon seeing people gathered outside, she steered her down a hallway and up the front staircase, saying a quiet hello to others as they moved through the crowd of mourners.
Upstairs, they headed for the master suite. It was large and beautifully decorated with its own sitting area, complete with a small entertainment center. When Emma had first left Grant, Marlene had invited Emma to come for a visit. Bob had taken their two boys skiing for several days, so the women had the house to themselves. They had shopped, gone into San Francisco for a concert, and spent hours enjoying each other’s company. For three straight nights, they’d curled up in the intimate sitting area of Marlene and Bob’s bedroom, sharing a bottle of wine and talking about life.
After guiding her cousin to the loveseat, Emma retrieved a box of tissues from the bathroom and placed it within Marlene’s reach. Then she sat next to her cousin and waited, giving her time, not wanting to shatter her grief with the usual words of condolence. Marlene and her family would hear plenty of that today from others. From her, she knew Marlene needed quiet time and love.
After a few minutes, Marlene blew her nose and looked up at Emma. “Silly, you know, all this blubbering. Mom wouldn’t like it.”
Emma nodded in agreement. Her aunt Kitty had been quite a woman, independent and full of sassy strength right up until her stroke. Emma’s mother, Kitty’s younger sister, was more quiet and reserved. When they were young, everyone said Emma took more after Kitty, whose real name was Katherine, while Marlene was more like Elizabeth. The family joke had been that the two girls had been switched as babies.
“Remember that summer after my brother died, I came up to spend two weeks with your family? Your mother called us Kitty’s Kittens—like we were a special club, just you, me, and her.”
Marlene smiled while dabbing at her tears. “That was fun.”
Using her hands, Emma pretended she was straightening whiskers between her mouth and nose, first one side, then the other. Then she held up both hands like they were claws. “Meeooooow.”
Marlene laughed. Sniffling, she made the same hand gestures. “Meow.”
The two grown women laughed and cried together. Marlene threw her arms around Emma’s neck and gave her a squeeze. “That is exactly how Mom would want to be remembered. Thank you.”
Later, after all the mourners had gone, Emma started packing her things for the flight home the next morning. She was staying downstairs in Kitty’s old room. Originally maid’s quarters, the Singhs had converted it into a mini suite when Kitty’s health started failing and she came to live with them. Marlene, always hopeful that her mother would improve
, had not changed one thing in the room since her mother’s stroke. Emma’s parents were staying in the guest room upstairs. Marlene’s boys were bunking together so that Kelly could have one of their rooms.
Hearing a light knock at the door, Emma looked up to see Bob Singh standing at the threshold. He was of average height and built thick. Gray ran through his hair like silver threads through black silk. He had a dark, open face and gave her a warm smile. They had all gone to college together at UCLA—she and Marlene and Bob and Grant. Marlene and Bob started dating their sophomore year, while she and Grant met their junior year. The couples had been close at school and in the early years of their marriages. But Bob and Marlene were still together. Seeing their stability reminded Emma of her own failed marriage, no matter how happy she was for them.
“I have a proposal for you, Emma.”
“Sorry, Bob, but I’m really not second-wife material.”
After a short laugh, Bob came in and settled himself in a small rocking chair near a reading lamp.
“Kind of chilly in here, Emma. Want me to adjust the vents?”
“Thanks, but it’s okay. Getting so I like it a bit cool. Maybe I’m having early hot flashes.”
Bob gave her a grin. “I have a combination request and invitation for you.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You and Marlene have both been through a lot lately. I think it would be good for you to get away. How does a week or two sound? Just the two of you. No kids, husbands, parents, worries, or cares. Decide where, and my office will take care of everything. Shopping in Paris. Shows in London. Sunning in Tahiti. Just name it.”
Emma sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over the lilac- print duvet. “That’s quite a generous offer, Bob, but I don’t know. Why don’t the two of you take some time together instead?”
“We will, but I think it’s important for you and Marlene to get away. With your divorce and Kitty’s passing, I think you would benefit more from each other’s company than anyone else’s right now.”
“But Kelly’s graduating soon, and my parents are going away and expecting me to look after the house and Archie.”
“I’m not talking immediately. More like later this summer, or maybe after school starts in the fall and the kids are off doing their own thing. Whenever it’s convenient. You ladies can go somewhere and get wild and crazy. You know.” Bob made a feeble attempt to do the whisker salute. “Meow.”
Bob’s attempt at a kitty meow came out sounding more like a Chihuahua with indigestion. Emma burst out laughing.
“I’ll definitely think about it and talk it over with Marlene.”
“Great.” Bob got up and started for the door.
“And Bob?”
When Bob Singh turned back around, Emma groomed her whiskers and showed him her claws.
“Meow back at ya, big guy.”
Following a quiet family dinner, Marlene’s boys, both teenagers, had taken Kelly out to a movie. All the adults turned in early, including Emma, who retreated to her room to sit in the comfy rocking chair and read. An hour later, she wished she’d taken Bob up on his offer to adjust the air conditioning in her room. It was getting cold. She wasn’t sleepy yet, so she got up to grab a sweater from her bag. When she turned back to the rocking chair, she let out a small screech, barely catching herself before it turned into a scream and woke the household.
Sitting in the rocking chair, the very chair she’d just vacated, was her aunt Kitty—or at least a misty image of Kitty.
Emma shook her head, quick and jerky like a dog shaking saliva from its jaws. She looked again at the rocking chair and once again saw a faint image of Kitty. The image was transparent and sat in the chair just as Emma had seen her aunt do so often. The figure wore a modest dark dress, the same dress Elizabeth had helped Marlene pick out for her mother to be buried in. Her hair was as Emma remembered it before Kitty had suffered her stroke, soft and white and pulled back at her nape. The only thing missing was Kitty’s knitting. Kitty’s hands had always been busy with one thing or another, but in the last decade her primary industry had been knitting. And Kitty had been an exquisite knitter.
Thinking it simply a mirage, a trick played on her by her mind after a day of remembering Kitty and her long life, Emma approached the chair, expecting the image of Kitty to disappear as reality took the place of fancy. Instead, the image turned its head slightly, knowingly, like a wise bird, and smiled at her. Emma jumped back, away from the chair, nearly stumbling over her suitcase in the process.
“Yes, dear girl, it’s really me,” the image of her aunt said, her voice sounding like the voices Emma had heard that day in the car, whispery, with no more volume than a gentle breeze, yet audible to Emma just the same.
Dashing for the bedroom door, Emma jerked it open just as she heard a second voice. It was similar in tone, yet distinct from Kitty’s.
“Told you she was a fraidy cat.”
Emma spun around and studied the room she was about to flee. The image of her aunt was still sitting in the rocking chair, the head turned toward her, studying her, with an encouraging smile. It was the second image, the new presence, that caused Emma to gasp.
Sitting on the bed was another filmy apparition, this one of a woman dressed in old-fashioned clothing—a simple, long-sleeved blouse and long, full skirt reminiscent of pioneer garb. Her build was small, even diminutive, but there was nothing frail about it. Her hair was pulled tight against her head with a braid circling her crown like a halo. Her face was lined and weathered. From her direction came the faint odor of apple pie. Both images were as colorless as steam, defined only by shades of gray and white.
The new apparition squinted at Emma, scowled, then addressed Kitty. “I’m not convinced, Kitty. Maybe I should wait another generation.” She jerked a thumb in Emma’s direction. “Doesn’t this one have a girl?”
Not exactly pleased at being talked about like she wasn’t there, especially by things that were not supposed to be there themselves, Emma became truly alarmed upon hearing a reference to her daughter.
“Kelly? What about Kelly?”
“Now hush, Ish. You’re scaring Emma.”
Ish? Emma’s confused mind rooted around and didn’t want to believe what was becoming obvious, if unbelievable. With wide eyes, she looked from one misty image to the other.
“You’re ghosts?” Emma’s voice trembled as she spoke the words.
The woman in old-time dress scoffed and addressed Kitty again. “Not very smart, is she?”
“Ish, behave yourself,” admonished Kitty. “She’s in shock. I’m telling you, our Emma’s the one you want.”
Emma pointed a manicured accusing finger at the image perched on the bed. “You’re Granny Apples, aren’t you? You’re the one who tried to contact me at Milo’s. The one who stalked my mother years ago.”
“Ish didn’t stalk anyone, Emma. She was looking for help.”
“I helped your ma, but she didn’t help me none.”
“My mother had just lost a child. She was devastated.” Emma turned her faced upward to address the ceiling. “I can’t believe I’m speaking to something that doesn’t exist.”
“If Kitty and I ain’t real, then why are you talking to us?”
Emma looked at Ish. Her filmy face was pinched with defiance and, Emma thought, disappointment.
Was she crazy? Was she imagining these images? Maybe she was asleep and dreaming. Her aunt Kitty was dead. She’d seen her with her own eyes in the casket the night before at the funeral home. And Ish Reynolds, Granny Apples, was dead, too—had been for a very long time. Her tired mind and exhausted body were playing tricks on her. It was that simple. Had to be that simple. Anything else was impossible, something usually reserved for Grant’s low-life, trailer-trash-mentality talk show—like alien abductions and rel
igious images found in slices of baloney.
Emma walked to the bed. Holding out a hand, she waved it through the image of Ish Reynolds. Nothing but air.
“That’s not very polite,” the ghost snapped. “How’d you like someone sticking their paws through you?”
Laughing, Emma yanked back the covers and dropped herself down onto the bed, falling through Ish to do so. She turned out the light and pulled the covers over herself against the cold that still filled the room.
“A good night’s sleep will stop this nonsense,” she announced out loud as she closed her eyes.
“You trying to convince yourself or us?” It was Ish again.
Emma opened one eye. Even with the light out, she could still make out an image. It was Kitty, now glowing slightly like phosphorous. She was still in the rocker, but Ish was gone.
“One ghost down, one to go.” Emma turned over, determined to go to sleep.
Just as she was drifting off, Emma felt something soft and fluttering and as delicate as a spider web brush against her cheek. She opened her eyes and was startled to see Kitty’s ghost standing over the bed. The spirit reached out a hand and stroked Emma’s cheek. It felt like the lightest of feathers.
“Where’s your friend?” Emma asked.
Kitty’s ghost smiled down at her. “Open your heart to the unexpected, Emma. You used to be so full of adventure. So full of life.”
“That was a lifetime ago.” A tear rolled down Emma’s cheek. “If you’re real, Aunt Kitty, then please don’t go. Stay here with us.”
“But I must go, dear. Your uncle Tony is waiting for me. He’s been waiting a long time.”
Marlene’s father, her uncle Tony, had died of cancer twelve years earlier. While alive, he and Kitty had been inseparable.
Kitty bent down and brushed her ghostly lips against Emma’s forehead. For the briefest of moments, Emma could have sworn she felt a bit of warm breath against her skin.
“You’re the one, Emma,” Kitty whispered as her presence began to fade. “You’re the one Ish has been waiting for. She’s family, and she needs your help. You need each other.”
Sue Ann Jaffarian - [Granny Apples 01] Page 3
