by Debi Matlack
“And it turns him into a giant asshole. See, that word fits him so much better than merely awkward. How the hell can he teach then?” I sighed and took a bite of my sandwich, stifling further remarks that all pushed and shoved to be next out of my big mouth.
“Because classes are structured and planned, and he’s in control.” Scott shook his head, still vibrating with mirth. “In college, he dated a lot, but never really settled with anyone until he met Dana. She hated his guts for the way he acted the first time they met.”
“I can’t imagine why.” I risked taking a drink and spraying them. “So, what you’re telling me is he’s a control freak.”
They both laughed and Scott finally caught his breath. “Yes and no. He just does better in structured rather than spontaneous situations; that’s why he did so well in the military. Look, I know you’re pissed off at him and he deserves it. He knows he screwed up and he feels bad but it’s up to you if you don’t want to see him again.”
I felt my face screw itself into a wry expression. “I don’t know if I can stand any more of him liking me. It may end in bloodshed, not all of it mine. And I’m sure he still doesn’t believe me.”
“About?” Lillian was curious.
“About me being a freak,” I grumbled. She chuckled.
“Scott told me about when you held his wedding band.”
I rolled my eyes. “I told him ‘nothing too personal’ and he gives me that to hold.” I sighed.
“Men,” she finished for me and I laughed. “Still, it’s pretty cool that you can do stuff like that.”
Chuckling, I gestured helplessly. “See, she takes your word for it and it’s secondhand knowledge to her. Barrett hears it directly from me and is a total skeptic. Not to mention a dick about it.”
“I’m really sorry Maeve. He’s just such a dork sometimes.” Lillian shrugged.
Scott sighed. “Look, message received. He had his chance, right?”
I hesitated before I nodded, cutting off any final chances for Herr Eberhardt to make fun of me again. “Yeah, he had his chance and shot himself in the foot.” He shrugged, then looked up, remembering something. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Would Friday evening be okay for me to come by with that—”
“Don’t tell me!”
“—uh, thing I wanted you to look at for a case?”
“What thing?” Lillian gave him a quick glance. So, the jealousy was still peeking from beneath the surface. Was that why she was part of the campaign to pair me up with Barrett? Maybe that made me safer to be around her husband when she was unavailable to supervise. I couldn’t imagine what drove someone to not completely trust the person they loved, yet they stayed together. I couldn’t see myself ever doing that.
He turned to her. “I’ll tell you in the car. I forgot Maeve doesn’t want to know anything about something she’s going to… look at, right?” His gaze turned back to me.
“Right. I don’t know if it makes any difference at all, but I don’t want to know anything about any object I’m going to evaluate ahead of time. I don’t want any preconceived notions to interfere.”
“I understand.” Lillian relaxed and I was okay in her eyes again. Was I starting to pick up impressions from live people too? For the love of all that was holy, I hoped not. It was bad enough dealing with dead folks and inanimate objects. I did NOT need telepathy too.
“Friday evening okay? At the shop?”
“Works for me. Anna’s working on Saturday so I’ll have time to get myself together if necessary.”
As a result of that conversation, my next three days were spent in a state of steadily rising apprehension. Mike noticed how distracted I was in our nightly exchanges and called me on it, forcing me to tell him what was coming.
“So don’t do it.”
“I can’t ignore this crap my brain has decided it wants me to see, so I might as well do someone some good with it.”
“Then I want to be there.”
“No.” It was hard enough making myself that vulnerable with just one other person in the room, with Mike there slobbering down my neck it would be impossible. Opening myself up to deliberately access this ability was also intensely personal. The only thing I could compare it to was sex. I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that with an audience, either. Especially an audience containing my brother. Eeewww…
“I’m there or it doesn’t happen.”
“Don’t pull that big boss crap with me, Michael. You’re not my father and you’re not Poppy. Scott is perfectly trustworthy, he’s a police detective, for God’s sake, I’ll be safe with him.”
“I’ll call him and tell him no.”
Why was my brother being such a douchebag? Well, more so this time than usual. “If you do, I will personally make your life hell. You want me to call and check in? All hours of the day and night. I’ll show up randomly, at your house, at your work. I bet I could persuade Poppy or some of my other visitors to make house calls too, try out some poltergeist stuff.”
“Maeve, don’t be stupid. I’m your brother and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“First of all, I’m painfully aware that I am closely related to you and there’s nothing I can do about it and secondly, too late. It already happened when I got my head caved in and nothing we can do will fix that. You have no idea how nice it would be for all this shit to just go away. And to have Poppy back…” This wasn’t how I’d wanted this conversation to go. And I hated the damned phone. And Mike for making me cry again. I hated crying too.
“Sorry.” And he sounded sincere. “But I’m going to be there. I want you to be safe and I want to see just what happens to you. You’re all the family I’ve got left, stupid.”
“You’ve got a wife and kids so don’t play ‘I’m All Alone In This World’ on your tiny violin. This isn’t a spectator sport, I don’t need a babysitter and you’re not coming.” And with that declaration, I hung up on him.
Mike showed up late Friday afternoon bearing takeout fried chicken with all the fixings and the whole fam-damily. My blood pressure spiked and I immediately began considering methods of fratricide. It meant leaving Karen a widow to raise my niece and nephew alone, but I was always available to serve as a poor example. Of course, with my luck, he’d haunt me and then I’d never be rid of him. I put on a welcoming face when I greeted Karen and the kids and surreptitiously kicked him in the shin. While Karen set up Chris and Dee with their food, I dragged him to the corner of the storeroom, out of earshot.
“Karen knows what’s going on, but she and the kids are going to a movie after supper, and then home.”
“And you’ll be going with them.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes, you are!”
“No, I’m—!”
I clapped a hand over his mouth. “Shut. Your. Hole.” Chris and Deanna were watching us with open fascination and Karen tried to hide a smile behind her hand.
I had no idea what my forays into the Realm of the Weird looked like from the outside and I didn’t want to scare the kids again in case something happened similar to Cora’s information dump at the cemetery. Of course, if something like that happened it would scare the shit out of Mike too, which, in its own way, was much worse. I’d never ever be allowed out of his sight again. He leaned close.
“Listen, Karen’s worried and so am I. Let me stay, I’ll be a good boy and I won’t bother you about it again.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless something fucked up happens, in which case you’re retiring from the hoodoo business.”
I drew in a deep, calming breath and let it gust back out. It didn’t help much. “The hoodoo business chose me, Mike. I can’t turn it off, there’s no breaker switch.” If only there was…
He inclined his head. “Understood. So then, if something goes wonky—”
I rolled my eyes at him, impatient and exasperated with his clinging. “Mike, it’s all wonky, it’s paranormal stuff, for crying out loud. If I end up with another migraine, then I�
�ll puke and go to bed, like I always do. If a hammer to the head didn’t kill me, this isn’t going to either.” I poked him in the chest with a stiff forefinger, emphasizing each word. “Just this once.”
He backed up a step, made a face at me and then sighed in resignation, nodding. “Okay.”
“Soup’s on,” Karen called.
“Coming,” I answered, then raised my brows at him one last time. “You swear?”
Mike coughed out an impatient huff. “Jesus God, yes!”
I fully expected him to renege on his agreement at some point in the future, but I had extracted the promise from him and would use it against him if the matter ever raised its head again.
I couldn’t eat much, but I sat with the kids and heard all about their trip to the nature center. Deanna waved a chicken wing and announced, “I milked a cow!”
The least I could do was feign normal supper conversation. “You did? How’d you do?”
“Everybody had a turn and some of them couldn’t get anything to come out but I did and then we took the milk and put it in a big jar and we all took turns shaking it and it turned into butter and we ate it on crackers.” She took a deep breath to refill her depleted lungs.
“Was it good?”
“Oh, it was soooo good!” Deanna’s eyes danced with delight. “Better than the stuff from the grocery store!” That didn’t stop her from liberally smearing a biscuit with the inferior grade and taking a big bite.
“I bet it was, because it was so fresh.”
“Do you want to come to the movies with us, Aunt Maeve?” Chris was scraping up the last of his potato salad.
“I would love to, but I’ve got some stuff here I planned to finish tonight. Raincheck?”
“What’s that?” he mumbled around his fork.
“Christopher, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Karen was gathering the empty paper plates and gave him a light flick on his ear with her finger. He flinched and muttered “Sorry,” reflexively, his mouth still full. I waited to give him time to swallow and ask again unencumbered.
“What’s a raincheck?”
“It means that I’ll go with you the next time you go to the movies. As long as you’re seeing something good.”
“Oh, okay.”
Everything was tidied away and Karen left with the kids. There was little traffic through the store so I left Mike to watch the front and do end-of-day stuff while I used my nervous energy to dismantle a broken dresser, harvesting hardware, drawers, and two long pieces of clear red oak from the sides. The top was cracked and stained so I carried it out to the curb. If it was still there after a couple of days, I’d pitch it in the dumpster. You never know, someone might have a use for it, even for firewood.
When I came back in and walked up front, dusting off my hands, Scott had arrived. He didn’t come alone. I shot him a glare of pure venom when I saw Barrett Eberhardt step out from his friend’s protective shadow. Mike glowered at me, his voice heavy with sarcasm. It’s a family trait.
“So, you didn’t want anyone else along?”
I transferred my annoyance to my brother. He’s used to it. “I didn’t know Scott was bringing anyone.”
Now Scott was illuminated by the unwholesome glow of my wrath. “I thought this was a somewhat official call. Why is he here?” I nodded toward Doubting Herr Eberhardt.
Scott raised a brow in mild alarm, apparently acquainted with the deceptively honeyed inflections of an irritated woman. He was married; I imagine he’d heard it before, once or twice.
Before he could answer, Barrett took a step forward. I had to hand it to him, he had balls of steel to get between contentious siblings. “I asked to tag along.” Now he rolled his eyes at Scott with a narrow look. “I didn’t know he hadn’t told you I was coming.”
Scott raised his hands and took a step back. “You said he still didn’t believe you. Now you can show him.”
Another of my poisonous glares had Detective Jenkins looking more apprehensive as I crossed the space between us to wag a finger in his face. “I’ll tell you what I just told him.” My thumb jerked behind me to indicate my brother. “This isn’t a spectator sport and I’m not a trained monkey for you to show off to your friends.” The tension was approaching unbearable levels and I was about to chase all of them out the door with a selection from my antique walking stick collection. I was keyed up and angry enough, I could have pulled it off. “You don’t understand how uncomfortable, unsettled, how exposed this stuff makes me feel. It’s all still new, I don’t understand a lot of it and all y’all are making me crazy!”
All three men stood frozen while I took a moment to take several deep breaths. Barrett was first to speak.
“Maeve, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how upset this would make you—”
Mike shook his head and faced Barrett. “Look, I appreciate your taking care of Maeve that day, but she really doesn’t want you here.” Are all older brothers like that? Big, stupid, pain in my ass… I barked like a rabid Rottweiler.
“Mike!”
He spun to stare at me. “What?!”
“Shut your face. I can speak for myself.” With my anger redirected mainly at Mike, I gave Barrett an appraising look. “If Herr Eberhardt wants to see the trained monkey do her thing so badly, I don’t care.” He ventured a small smile which I didn’t return. We all stood there and stared at each other a few moments until I observed mildly, “We’re going to need a couple more chairs.”
All three of them scrambled to find a chair. I was fairly impressed with the effect my little tantrum had on the boys. There might be future situations in which such a display might come in handy. I took my place in the large wing chair. I was the center ring of this little circus, so I got the big comfy seat. After a few minutes of expanding the circle and everyone getting settled, I gave Mike a long look.
“Okay, ground rules. Separate corners, no talking, to me or each other. Don’t touch me, I don’t want anything to interrupt or interfere with what I’m trying to see. It’s hard enough to do this without someone poking at me every ten seconds, asking if I’m okay.” He nodded reluctant assent, actually clasping his hands together over his knee. “Of course if I actually stop breathing or something, please feel free to do something about it.”
Barrett looked alarmed. “Is that something that’s likely to happen?”
“Not so far.” I turned my attention to him. “And you, no commentary, no doubting, just try to have a peephole in the closed door of your mind, okay?” He took a breath and nodded as well.
Finally, Scott. “You know the drill.” He nodded and I held out my hand, which prompted him to fish in his pocket to produce—
Not again.
A jewelry box. I rolled my eyes at him as he shrugged and mouthed the word ‘sorry’. With a grudging sigh, I took it from him and opened the box. It was a ring. More specifically, it was a diamond solitaire, of moderate carat weight, what appeared to be a fairly ordinary engagement ring, plain of band and cut. At least it wasn’t an antique. This was probably going to be as bad as handling his wedding ring had been. What the hell was wrong with someone asking me to evaluate a spare tire, or a magic marker? Geez… So many strong emotions were tied up in jewelry of this kind and I caught the brunt of it. I stared at it for a long moment, steeling myself, before I plucked the ring from its velvet nest, let it fall into the palm of my hand and closed my fingers around it.
Small pulses of images and sounds came to me, glimpses of various people involved in the process that took it from being separate components to a finished piece of jewelry. More vague impressions of it being handled and admired by a number of potential buyers before one face coalesced, a pretty blonde-haired young woman, in the company of an equally attractive young man. She smiled and looked down, admiring the ring. She was happy, but there was an undercurrent of apprehension. That could be normal nerves, anticipation of the planning that goes into such a big life change, but I didn’t think so. She showed the ring off to h
er friends at work, it looked like a bank, and all seemed well. But there was that niggling undertone of something Not Right. I could feel worry, apprehension, fear and… shame. She was ashamed of something, something she had done, where she was from, what she was…something. Her face appeared again and my view went dark as her fingers closed over the ring, working it loose. I felt a brief sensation of falling and shuddered as I returned to myself. Fumbling for the box, I dropped it on the floor, bent to reach for it, overbalanced and tipped forward. Before I got far, I was pressed back into the chair by a set of hands. Someone else took the ring out of my hand and my vision cleared back to normal. Kneeling in front of me was Barrett, his hands on my forearms, keeping me in place. I nodded and he let go to sit back on his heels, his eyes still fastened to me in concern.
The migraine I feared would come with the extra tension didn’t manifest, only a significant sense of weakness and dizziness. Mike squatted by my chair, no doubt a little perturbed that he hadn’t been the one to keep me from face-planting in the floor. “You okay?”
“I think so.” I still didn’t trust myself to stand just yet. Mike got up, vanished in the back and returned with cans of soda. We all accepted one and I cracked mine open to take a long swig. The sugar and caffeine restored me further and the pieces of what I saw started to fall into place. I gave Scott a long look.
“Missing person, right?” He nodded. “Her fiancé is looking for her?” Another nod. I hesitated before dropping the bomb. “She’s already married.”
His faced twisted into a frown of regret. “Mr. Drummond isn’t going to like that.” Giving the box in his hand an appraising stare, he muttered, “Why didn’t she tell him?”
As the dust in my brain settled, I was able to get a grip on what happened. “She married too young, left him, but the divorce was never finalized.” I couldn’t spare further sympathy for the jilted fiancé as a wave of nausea attacked out of nowhere and I gagged, disguising it as a cough. Leaning forward and closing my eyes seemed to help. I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Sure you’re okay?” Mike won the race this time.
