Final Call - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 4)

by Terri Reid

  He nodded and helped her into her desk chair. “You sit here and call this in,” he said. “I’ll turn off the water in the basement.”

  A few minutes later, the Freeport Police Department was cataloguing anything that could possibly hold clues and Bradley was on the phone with the regional Bomb Squad.

  Mary had discovered, to her relief, that her computer had not been damaged in the explosion. She had packed it up, along with any other pertinent files and now waited impatiently as the Paramedics checked her over.

  After patching her forehead, they had run her through a series of tests to be sure she hadn’t experienced a concussion. If they shine that damn flashlight into my eyes one more time, she thought.

  “I’ll take Miss O’Reilly home now,” Bradley interrupted her threat. “If there are any problems I’ll bring her into the ER.”

  He helped Mary to her feet, grabbed her gear and walked her to the door. Spying the keys still in the lock, he pulled them out and threw them to one of his officers. “Lock up after you’re done and bring the keys back to me tomorrow.”

  “Why the quick rescue?” Mary asked softly.

  “You looked like you were going to take one of the paramedics out,” he replied. “I was rescuing them, not you.”

  She smiled. “I don’t like being treated like an invalid,” she said. “I’m not a weakling.”

  “No one would ever confuse you for a weakling,” he assured her.

  He helped her into the car and drove her home. She was a little leery when she saw the lights on in her house. “Bradley,” she said, grabbing his arm. “I know I didn’t leave the lights on at home.”

  He patted her hand calmly. “No, you didn’t,” he said. “I’m sorry, I should have told you. I called Rosie and asked her to meet us here. You’re not supposed to be alone tonight, because of your possible head injuries and considering our...”

  Mary smiled sadly. In the past Bradley would have been the one to stay with her and make sure she was fine. But now...

  “Thank you,” she said. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

  He helped her up the stairs, which were pretty slick from the snow and ice. She ached all over, but she didn’t think her injuries were any worse than that and didn’t know if the warmth from Bradley’s arm around her waist was helping, or in the end, hurting her even more.

  Rosie gathered her in her arms once she came through the door. “Bradley told me your toilet exploded,” she said. “You know I’ve been telling you for months you needed to have a better diet. More regular. The Surgeon General now says that fiber is an important part of your daily routine, if you know what I mean.”

  Mary caught the laughter in Bradley’s eyes and smiled back, both trying not to laugh.

  “You silly goose,” Stanley said, walking out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “It wasn’t that kind of explosion. Someone put a bomb in Mary’s toilet.”

  “Oh, a real bomb,” Rosie repeated. “Oh, Mary, how frightening.”

  “Well, I checked the toilets in the house,” Stanley said. “Everything’s working just fine and dandy.”

  “Thank you,” Mary said.

  “No problem,” Stanley said, glaring at Bradley. “You’ve got to have some men in your life you can count on.”

  “Stanley,” Mary chided, “be nice.”

  Bradley stepped away from the group. “I’ll call you in the morning,” he said. “And give you any updates.”

  “Okay, thanks, Bradley,” she replied.

  “Well, if you need anything,” he said, standing at the doorway.

  “Iffen she needs anything, she’s got plenty of friends she can call on,” Stanley said.

  Bradley stiffened, “Well, good night then.”

  The door closed with a sharp snap.

  Rosie was confused. “We don’t like Bradley anymore?” she asked.

  “No,” Mary said. “We like Bradley a lot. It’s just...”

  “It’s just that he’s got the brains of a snowball and he hurt our Mary’s heart.”

  “He hurt you?” she asked. “But I thought he loved you.”

  Mary made her way slowly to the closet to take off her coat. “Well, he thinks I lied to him,” she said. “And he’s going through a rough time.”

  “Why would he think you lied to him?” she asked.

  “Because I did,” Mary replied.

  “Oh, well that makes sense,” Rosie said, biting her lower lip. “It does doesn’t it?”

  “No it don’t,” Stanley growled. “Mary didn’t lie, she just didn’t tell him something because she promised someone else she wouldn’t. So it weren’t a lie.”

  Rosie nodded. “But you still love him and that’s the problem.”

  Mary sighed. “Yes, that was the problem.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The children were finally asleep and the house was quiet for the night. Lucinda walked through the darkened hallways and listened to the sounds of the night. This house had always been a peaceful, safe place for her family and now they were going to have to leave it.

  She entered the kitchen, put on the kettle and took a cup from one of the cupboards. She walked across the room to the pantry. There on the door frame they had marked the heights of the children as they had grown. Little pencil marks with dates and heights. A history of their little family and someone else would paint over it.

  Hezekiah stood next to her, looking at the marks on the frame. He had forgotten about those marks. He looked at the first one with Rudy’s name on it and remembered how he had toddled up to the mark every day and asked, “Is I bigger now?” Next to that one were a dozen more, just centimeters apart to show Rudy’s progress through the following weeks and months. He recalled he had been impatient with the boy. “You didn’t grow overnight,” he had said. But Lucinda had taken the time to measure him and reassure him each and every day.

  Lucinda brushed her hand over those marks and a tear slipped down her cheek. “Dear Lord,” she prayed out loud. “Help me to know what to do.”

  He turned to her and tried to catch the tear in his finger, but it slid through him.

  She walked over to the table and sat down in a chair. Clasping her hands together, she bowed her head and prayed. “Dear Lord,” she said. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I have the courage to take on this calling, but I have to think of my children’s welfare too. I want to do Thy work and fulfill whatever calling Thou would see fit to offer me. But, Lord, we both know that I am an imperfect servant.”

  “No, Lucinda, you weren’t imperfect, I was,” he said.

  “Lord, I tried to do thy will. I tried to be a proper helpmate for my husband. I tried to honor his work and support him, but I failed time and time again.”

  “No, you never failed,” he cried. “You never failed me.”

  “How can I take on the needs of the congregation, when I couldn’t even take care of the needs of one man?” she wept. “How can I show Christ-like love, when my own husband never loved me?”

  “Oh, Lucinda,” he sobbed, tears flowing down his cheeks. “I did love you. I did. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, but I was too stupid to see it.”

  “Lord, you need a woman capable of inspiring love,” she sniffed. “And I’m afraid I just can’t do that. So, Lord, I’ve made up my mind and tomorrow I’m going to turn down this job. I pray, Lord, that you will help me and direct me to find some way to take care of my family.”

  “No Lucinda, you need to take this job,” he said. “The congregation needs you. The children need to stay here. And, I need a chance to beg you for forgiveness. Lucinda, please, you’ve got to change your mind.”

  Lucinda stood up, walked over to the stove and turned off the kettle. Then she walked across the room and stopped in front of Hezekiah. She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and took a deep breath. “Lord, if you want me to stay here,” she said. “Please send me some kind of sign. I just need a sign.”
/>   She stepped forward, walking right through Hezekiah. She shivered and hugged herself against the sudden cold. As she left the room, she reached over and turned off the light.

  Once again, Hezekiah was left standing in the dark. But this time he knew what he had to do. He thought about the young lady, Mary O’Reilly, who said she helped ghosts. If there was ever a ghost who needed help, it was him.

  Mary lay in her bed, looking up at the ceiling wondering how she was going to deal with the future. Her body hurt, her head hurt and, most of all, her heart hurt. It was fairly obvious things weren’t going to be easy between Bradley and herself. She was beginning to understand that you really can’t go back. They couldn’t just pretend nothing happened between them. Couldn’t pretend they didn’t say they loved each other. Couldn’t change the past few months. So, what’s next?

  “Young lady? Uh, Mary,” the voice seemed to be coming from far away.

  Mary sat up in bed and winced. “Hello, Reverend,” she called, “I’m here.”

  He slowly appeared next to her bed. “I beg your pardon,” he gasped. “I had no idea I would be coming to your private quarters.”

  “No, you’re fine,” she said. “I have company and it would be better to discuss whatever you need to talk about in here.”

  He started to speak and then stopped. She could see the tears welling in his eyes and his struggle to get the words out. “Lucinda,” he said, his voice cracking. “Lucinda doesn’t think I love her.”

  “Why would she think that?” Mary asked.

  Tears fell freely now. “Because, fool that I am, never told her,” he said, shame written on his face. “Never took the time to appreciate her. Only thought of myself.”

  “And why is Lucinda knowing you loved her so important now?” she asked.

  “Because she won’t take the job as minister,” he said. “She’s a much better minister than I ever was, ever could be. And she won’t take the job because she feels she failed our relationship.”

  “So what would you like me to do?”

  “Go to her. Tell her I love her. Tell her I was a fool. Do whatever you have to do to convince her that I was wrong,” he said.

  “Reverend...”

  “Hezekiah, please,” he interrupted.

  “Hezekiah. Why would she believe me?” she asked. “I’m a stranger. Why would she think I would know your feelings better than she would?”

  “There has to be a way,” he said. “I can’t have been led this far without being able to repent of my pride.”

  He wiped his tears and then looked up at her. “Rachael,” he said. “My daughter, Rachael can help you. She seems to have your gift.”

  “That just might work,” Mary said.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  It was seven o’clock the next morning and Mary parked her car down the street from Hezekiah’s home.

  “Okay you remember what you’re supposed to do,” she asked Mike who was sitting beside her.

  “Well, let’s see, you’ve only repeated the instructions four times in ten minutes,” he said. “So, maybe you ought to tell me one more time just in case.”

  She nodded, clearly distracted. “Okay, I’ll go up to the house...”

  “Mary, I was being sarcastic,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said with an apologetic glance at him. “Sorry.”

  She slipped an envelope into her coat pocket and carefully stole up the street. Following his directions, she snuck to the side door of Hezekiah’s home and tapped lightly. The door opened a crack and a beautiful little girl with dark brown eyes and a wide smile looked at her. “My Daddy said you’d be coming,” she said. “I’m Rachael.”

  “Hi Rachael, I’m Mary and this is my friend, Mike,” she said. “Can you see Mike, just like you can see your daddy?”

  Rachael poked her head out the door and peered behind Mary. She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I can see him,” she giggled. “He’s cute.”

  Mary chuckled. “Shhhhh, if you tell him that, there’s no living with him.”

  The little girl giggled again.

  Mary took the card out of her pocket and handed it to Rachael. “Okay, here’s the card,” she said. “You and Mike do your job and I’ll wait a few minutes and then knock on the front door. Okay?”

  Rachael nodded eagerly. “And I’m not s’posed to know you, right?”

  “Exactly right,” Mary said.

  “Okay,” she said, shutting the door on their faces.

  “Good thing I can walk through walls,” Mike teased and followed Rachael into the house.

  Mary moved quietly back down the side of the house and hid in the shadow of the house for a few minutes. Finally, when she felt she had given them enough time to accomplish their job, she walked up to the front door and rang the bell. She could hear rustling noises inside the house as she waited for the door to be open. A lovely African-American woman with large, soft eyes and caramel-colored skin answered the door. “May I help you,” she asked in a quiet, calm tone.

  Mary smiled. “Hello, I’m Mary O’Reilly and I’m a friend of Hezekiah,” she said.

  Lucinda’s eyes saddened. “I’m sorry, perhaps you hadn’t heard. My husband passed away recently, we just had his funeral yesterday.”

  Mary nodded. “Yes, I knew the funeral was yesterday, I’m sorry I was unable to come,” she replied. “But I wondered if you would allow me to come in and visit with you for a few minutes.”

  Lucinda hesitated. “I really hate to be rude,” she said. “But we are very busy today. We are in the midst of packing up our belongings.”

  “You asked God for a sign last night,” Mary said. “Don’t you want to take the time to hear it?”

  Eyes wide with shock, Lucinda stepped back from the door, opening it wide. “How did you know...”

  “I’d love to tell you. May I come in?”

  Mutely, she nodded and led Mary into the front room. Mary followed her to the couch, sitting down and facing her. “I am going to tell you something about myself that many people can’t accept,” Mary said. “But if you can just keep an open mind, it will make the rest of what I’m going to say so much easier.”

  Lucinda nodded.

  “Several years ago, when I served as a cop in Chicago I was caught in a cross-fire and I got shot. The doctors did the best they could, but I died on the operating table.”

  She met Lucinda’s wide stare. “No, I’m not a ghost or an angel,” she said with a chuckle. “I got a choice on my way to Heaven. I could continue, or I could go back, but my life would be changed. I’d have a different mission.”

  “So, you came back,” Lucinda finished.

  Mary nodded. “And my new gift was that I can communicate with spirits, some people call them ghosts. I can help those who have unfinished business to settle before they can move from this world onto the next.”

  “I have no trouble believing that,” she said. “If we believe in angels, why wouldn’t we believe in other spirits?”

  “Thank you for having an open mind,” she said. “I met your husband last Saturday night.”

  “But that’s impossible, he died...,” she stopped. “You met his ghost?”

  “Yes, I met his ghost,” she said. “He discovered that he had some unfinished business to take care of before he could move on.”

  Lucinda shook her head in wonder. “Rachael said she’d seen him.”

  Smiling, Mary nodded. “Yes, he mentioned that Rachael could see him,” she said. “He was a little disconcerted about that, seeing that he didn’t believe in ghosts himself.”

  Lucinda laughed. “I can see that could have posed a problem to him.”

  “I have a message from him to you,” Mary said. “He wanted you to go to the bookshelf and take out the big Bible; he said you would know which one.”

  “Excuse me for a moment, it’s in the study,” she said and left the room.

  She came back carrying a large leather bound Bible. No wonder Hezekiah said Rachael
would need help. Lucinda placed it on the coffee table before them.

  “He wanted you to turn to 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13,” Mary said. “There is a message there for you.”

  Lucinda turned the pages and found the chapter.

  “He said there would be a section highlighted and he wanted you to read it,” she said, praying Mike and Rachael had been able to accomplish the task.

  Lucinda began to read the passage, “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long and is kind, charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth.”

  She looked up and Mary could see the questions in her eyes. “He also left you a note,” she said, “In the front of the Bible.”

  Lucinda turned to the front and found the envelope Mary had given Rachael that morning. It had taken Mary half the night to learn how to replicate his handwriting and the other half was spent on Hezekiah deciding what he wanted to say.

  Lucinda opened it and read the letter.

  My dearest Lucinda,

  Throughout our marriage and our partnership as we worked together for the Lord, I have been the sounding brass and the tinkling cymbal and you have been the angel of charity. In everything you do, in everything you say, the true love of Christ is exemplified in every action. I realize now that I was so caught up in my own pride, in my own desires, that I neglected the real needs of my congregation, my children and, most importantly, my wife.

  I want you to know that I respect you, admire you and pray that our children will follow your example. But most of all, I want you to know that I love you. You have been the iron rod, the steadying force in our relationship. You have been ever selfless, ever supportive and ever patient. I don’t know why God decided to give me an angel as a wife, but I will be grateful to him for eternity.