The Ghost and Little Marie

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “The funeral home picked up her body a few minutes ago.”

  “Why in the hell did they do that?” Adam roared.

  “Well…umm…when your grandmother checked in…umm…that was the instruction…umm…you know, if something happened…Maybe you should go talk to the front desk. My supervisor, Sunny Hartman, is the one who found her this morning, I believe she’s at the front nurses’ station.”

  Without another word, Adam started for the front desk, dragging Danielle along with him, her hand still clinging to his.

  “How can she be dead?” Adam asked.

  “I’m so sorry, Adam. I really loved your grandma,” Danielle whispered.

  Adam walked a few more steps, and then he stopped abruptly and turned to Danielle. He smiled sadly, tears now streaming down his face. “I know you did. And she loved you. You were the daughter she never had.”

  “I like to think…granddaughter.” Danielle smiled up at Adam, her glistening tears threatening to escape. “I’m far too young to be your aunt.”

  “You are so vain, Danielle Boatman.” Adam laughed in spite of the tears, and then he reached out and drew Danielle into his arms. They held each other for several moments. When the hug ended, Adam wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. Instead of holding Danielle’s hand, Adam casually draped his arm around her shoulders. Together Adam and Danielle walked to the nurses’ station, looking for answers.

  Adam and Danielle each took a seat in Sunny Hartman’s small office. Sunny shut the door for privacy and then took a seat at her desk. With a heavy sigh, she folded her hands on her desktop, sat up straight in her office chair, and looked across the desk at Adam and Danielle.

  When Danielle had first met Sunny Hartman the prior week, she wondered if Sunny was her real name or a nickname earned because of her perpetually sunny disposition. The nurse’s cheerfulness had annoyed Marie, who complained to Danielle that she would like to slap the smile off the woman’s face.

  “She acts like she’s working at Disneyland, and this is the happiest place on earth!” Marie had scoffed.

  “I think she’s just trying to keep the residents’ morale up,” Danielle had suggested.

  “If she wants to do that, she should start by making it smell better!” Marie had countered.

  “I found her this morning when I was making my rounds. At first, I thought she was sleeping. I’m very sorry,” Sunny explained.

  “What happened?” Adam asked.

  “She died in her sleep. I’d like you to know she looked very peaceful when I found her. I don’t believe she suffered.”

  “I was here last night,” Adam argued. “She was perfectly fine. She told me she was ready to go home.”

  Sunny smiled sadly. “I know Marie was anxious to get home. But she was a very old woman and more fragile than she liked to admit. It was simply her time. I know that isn’t much comfort now, especially when it’s so unexpected, but I believe she went peacefully.”

  Danielle reached to Adam and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “She’s right, Adam. Your grandmother put up a good front, but she was feeling her age. We talked about it. She didn’t want you to know, especially now.”

  Adam looked at Danielle and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “She didn’t want to stay here any longer than she had to,” Danielle explained. “She was afraid if your father knew she wasn’t as strong as she tried to put on, he’d do something so she couldn’t go home. Marie always told me that when it was her time, she prayed she would simply go in her sleep. I think that’s what we all want.” Danielle gave his hand another squeeze and then released it.

  Adam slumped back in the chair and let out a heavy sigh. “Now what?”

  “No one else in your family has been contacted. We called your number several times and left messages. We don’t have your father’s phone number, so we couldn’t call him,” Sunny explained.

  “I left my phone here last night. That’s why I stopped in this morning, to find it. My parents and brother have been staying at my grandmother’s house. Did you try calling there?”

  Sunny shook her head. “I’m sorry, when your grandmother was admitted, the only number she gave us was yours. She said you would contact any other family member if necessary.”

  “I don’t think she wanted Dad to come to Frederickport. She was afraid he’d try to interfere. She knew she could manage me.” Adam couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact his grandmother had been adept at managing him.

  “I really liked your grandmother,” Sunny said. “She was a character. There was nothing senile about her despite her age. Maybe her body gave out, but her mind remained sharp to the end. If your father would have asked my opinion, I would have told him she needed to go home when the physical therapist felt she was ready.”

  “I was told the funeral home already picked up her body?” Adam asked.

  Sunny nodded. “Yes. Your grandmother made her funeral arrangements some time ago with the local funeral home, through her church. Long before she came here. When she was admitted, she made it very clear who we were to call if she died here.”

  Adam chuckled. “That sounds like Grandma.”

  Danielle stood up. “I’m going to go call Lily and let her know. You should probably call your parents.”

  Danielle stood in the hallway, just outside the closed door of Sunny’s office. After pulling out the cellphone from her purse, she called Lily.

  “She died?” Lily gasped after Danielle gave her the news.

  “They found her this morning. It looks like she simply died in her sleep.”

  “I thought she was doing good? She said she was going to be home by Christmas,” Lily said. “Do you think she got some infection from the surgery? I know that happens sometimes.”

  “It might not have anything to do with the broken hip or surgery. It could have simply been old age. Or maybe the trauma from the injury and surgery simply overtaxed her body.”

  “Are they doing an autopsy?”

  “I doubt it. I don’t see the point, under the circumstances. They’ve already taken her to the funeral home.”

  “Wow…have you seen her?” Lily asked.

  Danielle glanced down the hall to her right and then to her left. “No. She wasn’t in her room, and I haven’t seen her in the hallway. But she might have gone with her body to the funeral home. That often happens.”

  “How is Adam doing?”

  “He seems to be in shock. He was pretty close to his grandmother despite the fact she often drove him crazy.”

  “Yeah, I get that. My mom drives me nuts, yet I don’t know what I’ll do when she’s no longer here,” Lily said.

  Danielle’s phone began to buzz, indicating another incoming call. She quickly glanced at it and then put it back to her ear.

  “Lily, the chief is calling. Let me answer it.”

  A moment later Danielle was disconnected from Lily’s call and talking to Chief MacDonald.

  “I’ve been trying to contact Adam, and he isn’t answering his cell,” the chief told her. “You mentioned you were going to see Marie this morning.”

  “Chief, I’m at the nursing home now, and so is Adam. Marie passed away last night.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She died in her sleep. One of the nurses found her this morning when she was making her rounds.”

  “Well, I suppose that sort of explains it,” MacDonald murmured.

  “Explains what?” Danielle asked.

  “Why Marie was at the station this morning—in her nightgown—and Evan was the only one to see her,” MacDonald explained.

  They were both silent for a few moments. Finally, Danielle asked, “Umm, Chief, why would Marie’s spirit go to the police station?”

  Six

  Morning sunlight streamed through the east-facing window. Quivering leaves blocked a portion of the incoming light, their shadows dancing along the far wall. Max crouched nearby, preparing to pounce, his golden eyes fi
xed on the flickering shadows as his black tail twitched in anticipation.

  Without warning he leapt from his place by the bed and raced across the room, his paws slipping along the wood floor, making it difficult for him to maneuver. Unable to stop when he reached the shadows, Max’s right shoulder bounced rudely against the wall, sending him darting in another direction. He raced out the doorway and into the hall. Without pause he flew toward the stairway, sailing through Walt, who was just preparing to go downstairs from the second floor.

  Walt paused and looked down, watching as the cat continued down the stairs after having just moved effortlessly through his legs. Had Walt been a living man, he might now be toppling headfirst down the staircase after the cat, which could, in effect, leave Walt in the same condition as he was now—dead.

  “Crazy cat,” Walt muttered as he continued down the stairs. When he reached the first-floor landing, he heard someone at the door. He was fairly certain it wasn’t Max, because as far as Walt knew, Max hadn’t figured out how to open the front door, and by the sound of the rusty hinges, someone had definitely just opened it.

  Aside from Max, Walt was alone in the house. Danielle had gone to visit Marie, and they didn’t have any houseguests. Danielle had decided to spend Thanksgiving with close friends, which was why she had not taken any reservations for the week. He knew Joanne was not planning to come in today, and Danielle typically entered through the kitchen door. So who just opened the front door? Walt wondered.

  When the ghost of Marlow House reached the entry hall, he found Lily closing the front door. Max, who was no longer racing through the house, sat a few feet from Lily, looking up at her, waiting for a greeting. He let out a meow.

  Lily glanced down at Max and smiled. “Well, hello to you too. Do you know where Walt is? I need to talk to him.” Lily reached down to pet Max’s shoulder.

  Walt glanced around, looking for a way to get Lily’s attention and let her know he was nearby. His gaze settled on Max, who was now purring and leaning into Lily’s hand. With a smirk, Walt found it hard to resist. In the next moment, Max lifted up from the floor, floating in midair near Lily.

  The cat let out an unholy screech, and in the next moment he was on the floor again, his paws desperately trying to gain traction on the slippery wood. In a flash he was racing down the hallway, disappearing into one of the rooms.

  Lily chuckled and glanced around. “That wasn’t very nice, Walt.”

  “He about knocked me down the stairs a minute ago. Well…he could have knocked someone down the stairs. Serves him right.”

  “I wanted to let you know Marie passed away last night,” Lily told him.

  “Little Marie?” Walt murmured. He had questions, but he knew Lily couldn’t hear him. The next moment he sent the parlor door opening and closing.

  “You want me to go into the parlor?” Lily asked.

  Not waiting for a reply, she started for the room. Once inside, she spied a pen seemingly moving on its own accord across a piece of paper. Stepping closer to the desk, Lily looked down at the paper to see what Walt had just written.

  What happened?

  “According to Dani, she died in her sleep last night. They found her this morning. I was wondering if you’ve seen her. But since you asked what happened, I have to assume you didn’t know about it, which obviously means you didn’t see her.”

  The pen began writing again.

  No, I haven’t seen her. Has Danielle?

  Lily shook her head. “No. But they took Marie’s body to the funeral home before Dani got there this morning, and Dani figures Marie might be there. Or…maybe she’s already moved on. I kind of hope not. I think Dani will be pretty upset if she can’t say goodbye. And, well…I’d like a chance to say goodbye to her too.”

  “That’s a nice trick,” Eva Thorndike murmured when she suddenly appeared in the parlor, perched casually on the sofa’s armrest.

  Walt turned his attention from Lily to Eva and smiled. The attractive specter wore a gown he hadn’t seen before, a pale apricot chiffon, a fitting autumn color. “Good morning, Eva. And what trick is that?”

  “I’ll see you later, Walt,” Lily interrupted. “Well…maybe not see you exactly,” Lily muttered as she left the parlor, unaware Eva had just joined them.

  His attention on Eva, Walt waited for her answer.

  “Communicating with the living by way of a pen and paper.” With a wave of her hand, Eva sent golden glitter swirling into the air.

  With mock seriousness Walt said, “I really wish you wouldn’t get that stuff all over the place.”

  Eva glanced down. The illusion of glitter had vanished before it touched the floor. “Funny,” she said with a chuckle.

  Walt grinned. “You know, Eva, if you weren’t wasting your energy on glitter, maybe you could push a pen around on paper.”

  “And why would I want to do that?” Eva shrugged. “I was never much for letter writing. Yet it is a nice trick. So who is this newly departed person Lily spoke of?”

  “Do you remember George Hemming?” Walt asked.

  “George Hemming? Didn’t he live across the street from you?” Eva glanced to the window facing the street and the Hemming house.

  “Yes. George wasn’t married when you knew him. But he and his wife had a daughter—Marie. Lily just told me she died.”

  “Ahh, and joined our side?” Eva smiled.

  “Danielle was very close to Marie. I imagine it’ll be hard on her.”

  “Why? It’s not like Danielle won’t be able to see or talk to her.”

  “You have to remember, we are the exception, Eva. I imagine Marie will be moving on.”

  “I don’t know why she would,” Eva said as she stood up straight. “I find there is too much for me to see and hear on this realm to move on to the next just yet. But I suppose eventually I will. What about you, Walt? I can’t imagine being cooped up in one place like this.” Eva glanced around and shivered. “It’s enough to make a spirit move on.”

  “I’m comfortable here,” Walt told her.

  “Yes, we all know why you’re so comfortable,” Eva smirked.

  “Why are you here, Eva? Just stopped to say hi?”

  Eva smiled at Walt as she adjusted her gown’s skirt. “I was in the neighborhood. I stopped by Chris’s house, but he wasn’t there.” Eva let out a disappointed sigh. “So I thought I’d drop by to see you. I know you never go anywhere.”

  “Ahh, Chris.” Walt chuckled. “You’ll have to come back next week. Chris is off on some charity fundraiser. Chicago…or was it Paris?”

  “You know, that man is still quite smitten with your Danielle,” Eva told him.

  “She’s not exactly my Danielle.”

  Eva arched her brows. “Oh, she isn’t?”

  “And while he does annoy me, Chris is not a bad fellow,” Walt begrudgingly admitted.

  With a sigh, Eva sat back on the arm of the sofa. “You know, Walt, imagine how wonderful it would have been had Danielle and Chris been alive in our time? The four of us, we could have become such grand friends…me and Chris together, you and Danielle. I can even imagine Chris on the stage with me. Fans would have adored us!”

  Walt smiled sadly at Eva. “Fans did adore you, Eva. So did I. But it’s not our time anymore. We’re simply observers now.”

  Eva stood again. “I wouldn’t call you an observer exactly. From what I understand, you haven’t exactly sat back and let things just happen. I suspect Danielle would be on our side by now if you hadn’t interfered a few times.”

  Walt shrugged at the observation.

  “So tell me about this Marie who has passed over.”

  Walt gave her a brief synopsis of Marie, including where she had been when she died.

  “Ahh! I remember her now!” Eva squealed.

  “How could you?” Walt frowned.

  Eva smiled. “You forget, I often visited you—up until your death. I remember the baby across the street. Such a sweet thing. And you know,
I do believe she could see me.”

  “What do you mean? Marie can’t see spirits.”

  “Don’t you know, Walt…” Eva paused a moment and then let out a sigh. “I suppose you don’t, considering you’ve been trapped in this house for almost a century. But it’s not uncommon for babies—or very young children—to see and hear us. I don’t mean someone like Evan, who has a special gift like Danielle and Chris. I mean all babies.”

  “Actually, I’ve heard that—about babies seeing spirits. Yet I would imagine that could terrify a poor child.” Walt cringed.

  Eva waved her hand dismissively, sending blue glitter swirling. “I’ve never scared a child in my life—or—should I say my death. I used to sing to little Marie.”

  “Sing to her?”

  Eva smiled at the memory. “You know, I never really thought about having children of my own. I was so focused on my career, and I will confess, during my brief marriage, I was a bit terrified of the prospect. But after my death…well, I began to wonder what kind of mother I might have been. What a child of mine might look like.” Eva sighed wistfully.

  “You’re not alone. I’ve wondered that about myself. What kind of father would I have been?”

  “A loving father, I imagine, considering how you took care of me during the end.” She then continued with her story. “One day, when I was checking on you, I heard a baby crying. The sound was coming from one of the open windows in the house across the street. I went to investigate.”

  “It was Marie?”

  Eva nodded. “She was alone in her room, crying her little heart out. Her mother was in the kitchen. I suspect she had just put the child down in the crib for a nap. But that baby was not having any of it.”

  “Did Marie see you?”

  “Oh yes. She looked quite startled when I showed up by her crib, looking in at her. She stopped crying for a moment, and then her little face puckered up again, and I knew she was going to start wailing even louder than before. So I started singing.”

  “Singing?”