Stolen Dreams - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery - Book Fourteen

by Terri Reid

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “He was in a one room apartment and was waiting for a two room apartment to come available. I suppose as soon as they cleared me out he moved in.”

  Alison paused and studied Mary for a moment. “You are the young woman from my dream, aren’t you?” she asked.

  Mary nodded. “Yes, I’ve been sharing your dream for months,” Mary said. “I’d love to help you find your daughter.”

  “It won’t be very easy,” she said. “It happened a long time ago and I don’t know if they even kept records.”

  “Did your husband or your sons know about your daughter?” Mary asked.

  Alison looked frightened. “Oh, good heavens, no,” she said. “My husband assumed I was a sweet innocent when he married me. I don’t think he would have looked twice at me if he knew that I was a fallen woman.”

  “A fallen woman?” Mary asked.

  “I got pregnant when I was a teenager,” she answered with a slight shrug. “It was, I suppose, quite a common story. I thought he loved me and we were going to get married. But, well, when he discovered I was expecting, he left town.”

  “He sounds like a jerk,” Mary replied.

  Alison looked shocked for a moment and just stared at Mary. Then her face lightened and she laughed. “Yes, I suppose he was,” she finally replied. And then, with more conviction in her voice she repeated herself. “Yes. Yes he was.”

  “So, what did you do?” Mary asked.

  “I had to go to my parents and tell them everything,” she said. “And they did what middle-class parents did at the time. They sent me away to a religious school for unwed mothers.”

  “How old were you?” Mary asked.

  “Fifteen,” she replied sadly. “I was fifteen years old and my parents sent me away. I had my baby, a beautiful little girl. But I wasn’t allowed to keep her. They took her from me and gave her to another family.”

  Tears slipped down her translucent cheeks. “I remember trying to escape and run after the family that took her,” she said. “But I had no money and no transportation, so I lost her.”

  “Escape?” Mary asked.

  “I was required to work for the school until my debt was paid back,” she said. “The cost for room and board and my hospital stay. I worked for them until I was nineteen and then I was finally free.”

  “They took your baby and four years of your life?” Mary asked, incredulous. “That can’t be legal.”

  Alison smiled sadly. “In those days it was not only legal, but quite common,” she said. “I begged them to let me know where they placed her when I left, but they refused. They told me to forget about her and start my life over. They expected me to forget about my child. I can’t imagine any woman ever forgetting about her own child.”

  Mary placed her hands protectively over her belly and shook her head. “I can’t either,” she said. “And I understand your need to find her. Can you tell me about the place you lived?”

  A few minutes later, armed with more information about Alison, Mary took the elevator back downstairs. The place where she’d been sent was a large convent that was situated in a secluded spot on one-hundred acres of wooded land in the middle of farmers’ fields just north of the Illinois border in Wisconsin. The location was far enough away from any town that escape was unlikely.

  The baby, Alison had called her Aubrey Rose, would be sixty-two years old now. All Alison wanted was to be able to see her daughter one more time before she moved on. And all Mary wanted to do was fulfill her request.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So, how did it go?” Bradley asked Mary as they worked together to make dinner that night. “Did you get to see Alison?”

  “Yes, I did. She is a lovely woman,” Mary replied, leaning back against the counter.

  Bradley smiled as he pulled some cans from the cabinet above Mary.

  “What?” she asked, noticing the look on his face.

  “I just think it’s funny that you describe a ghost as a lovely person,” he said, shaking his head. “Most people wouldn’t be so open-minded.”

  She shrugged. “Well, most people aren’t me.”

  He put the cans on the counter behind her, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “That’s true,” he whispered before placing a kiss on her lips. “Lucky me.”

  Sighing, she rested her head against his chest and snuggled against him. “Thank you,” she said. “I feel the same way about you.”

  “So, tell me about her,” he said, laying his head on hers.

  “She had a baby when she was fifteen, and it was given up for adoption without her approval,” she said, leaning back and meeting his eyes. “I can’t imagine how devastated she must have felt. I’ve never even met our baby, but I already feel protective towards him.”

  “She had no idea who adopted her?” he asked.

  “No, she never was able to find out where the baby was placed,” she replied, “and needs to see her daughter before she moves on.”

  “I can understand that. Finding your family can be quite a motivator,” he said, thinking back to the time he searched for Jeannine and Clarissa. “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Well, the convent she was staying in when she gave birth is still open,” she replied. “It’s just above the state line, in Wisconsin. So, I thought I’d take a trip up there and see if I can access their records.”

  “That might be a little tricky,” he said. “Most adoption records from that era were sealed, especially if they might shed an unfavorable light on the institution. I don’t know how you’re going to be able to get access to them.”

  “I’m not sure either,” Mary admitted slowly. “But I’m sure there has to be a way. She wouldn’t have been sent to me if there wasn’t a way I could help her.”

  “Well, if anyone can do it,” Bradley said with confidence, “it’s you.”

  She smiled up at him. “Well, thank you again,” she replied. “After the last couple of days I’ve had, I can use a vote of confidence.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Before she could answer, the door burst open and Clarissa hurried inside. Her eyes were wide with excitement and she was out of breath. “Hurry, you need to help him,” she panted.

  “Who?” Bradley asked, hurrying across the room to meet her,

  She pointed toward the door. “Andy. Andy Brennan,” she said. “He’s fighting Jack Wilson.”

  “Why on earth would he do that?” Mary asked, slipping her arm into her coat and hurrying towards the door.

  “Jack said there were no such things as ghosts,” Clarissa cried. “He said that you were a big faker, so Andy punched him.”

  They rushed out of the house and down the stairs and saw a group of children gathered on the corner excitedly shouting at what was going on in the midst of them.

  “They’re in there,” Clarissa shouted, grabbing Bradley’s hand and pulling him forward. Bradley quickly jogged past Clarissa and entered the throng, towering over the children involved in the melee. Grabbing each boy by the shoulder, he easily pulled them apart. “You do know it’s against the law to fight on a public street, don’t you?” he asked sternly.

  A frightened hush fell over the group and several children on the outer edges of the crowd stepped back and hurried away. Bradley eyed the two boys he still held in his hands. “Well?” he asked.

  Andy wiped his arm across his bloodied nose and then looked up at Bradley. “He said Mary was a liar,” he said defiantly. “He said she was crazy.”

  Bradley looked down at Jack Wilson. “And what do you have to say for yourself?” he asked.

  “My mom says she’s fake and she’s just cheating people out of their hard-earned money,” he spat unrepentantly.

  Mary reached the crowd in time to hear Jack’s comment. She stepped up next to Bradley and met Jack’s eyes. “You can tell your mother that I don’t charge for the work I do,” she said calmly. “And if she has any questions about the validity of m
y work, she should call me and I would be very happy to explain what I do to her.”

  Jack glared at her. “She won’t call you,” he growled and then he looked up at Bradley. “And you can’t do anything to me. It’s freedom of speech. I can say whatever I want to say. And I didn’t start the fight, he did.”

  Bradley looked over at Andy and the boy hung his head with a sigh. “He’s right,” Andy admitted quietly. “I hit him first.”

  Bradley released both of the boys. “Thank you for being honest,” he said to Andy. “I want both of you to go home now. And I don’t want to hear of any more fighting between you.”

  Jack shrugged back defiantly. “Wait ‘til I tell my mom and dad that you grabbed me,” he sneered. “They’ll probably sue you or something.”

  Turning quickly so Mary and Bradley didn’t have time to reply, Jack dashed down the street towards his house.

  “Are you mad at me?” Andy asked, looking up at Mary and Bradley with tear-filled eyes.

  Bradley sighed and wrapped his arm around Andy’s shoulders. “Well, buddy, we both know that punching someone is never a good thing to do,” he replied.

  Andy nodded slowly. “You’re right,” he admitted.

  Then Bradley grinned down at Andy. “But if I had been you, I would have found it hard not to punch him myself,” he added.

  “Bradley!” Mary chastised. “Both of you know better than that. Physical violence is not the answer.”

  She knelt down in front of Andy, pulled tissue from her coat pocket and dabbed at the blood below his nose. Her eyes filled with tears and she sniffled them back. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt because of me,” she said softly, her voice catching.

  “Awww, Mary, don’t cry,” Andy said. “I’m okay. Really. I get my nose bloodied at least once a week. It’s no big deal.”

  Mary sent him a watery smile and nodded. “Well, thank you for being my hero and standing up for me,” she said, gently wiping the last of the blood from his face.

  Blushing with embarrassment, Andy nodded. “Sure, no big deal.”

  “Come on, Andy,” Bradley said, patting his back. “Why don’t you let me walk you home and talk to your parents about what happened.”

  Andy sighed deeply. “Yeah, I guess they need to know, and it would be safer if there was a policeman there when they found out.”

  Both Bradley and Mary chuckled. “I don’t think it’s going to be that bad,” Bradley said. Then, after helping Mary to her feet, he placed his hand on Andy’s head. Come on,” he said. “Let’s go face the music.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fifteen minutes later, as Mary was putting the casserole dish in the oven, the front door opened and Bradley came inside. Mary closed the oven door and peered over the kitchen counter. “So, how did it go?” she asked, nervously wiping her hands on the dish towel.

  “Fine,” Bradley said, slipping his coat off and hanging it in the closet. “I could tell Katie and Clifford were more upset about what Jack said than what Andy did. But they didn’t let Andy know and gave him the same guidance we did about punching someone not being an answer to a disagreement.”

  She walked into the front room and waited by the couch for him. “So, he’s not going to be punished?” she asked.

  He closed the door. “No,” he said with assurance as he turned towards her. “He’ll be fine.”

  She let out a long sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good,” she said. “I was really worried about him.”

  Shaking his head, he came over to stand next to her. “So, do you want to tell me what this really is about?” he asked.

  The long breath she had just released was inhaled. “Bradley, I need to apologize,” she began. “I had no idea this story in the paper would have these kinds of ramifications. You must be mortified.”

  “Wait. What?” he asked.

  Folding her arms across her chest, she turned away from him, staring at the fireplace. “I never thought my words or my actions would reflect badly on you or cause Clarissa problems at school,” she said, shaking her head. “I should have thought this all through. I am so sorry I acted rashly.”

  Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “Now you’re putting words in my mouth,” he said. “I don’t care what other people think. I’m proud of what you do. I love how you help people.” He paused for a moment. “Well, dead people.”

  Ignoring his smile, she walked away from him and perched on the arm of the couch. “But what about Clarissa?” Mary argued. “This is going to affect her at school.”

  “It will help teach her that some people can be closed-minded and prejudiced no matter what evidence is placed before them,” he countered. “It’s a lesson she is going to have to learn eventually, so why not now when we can be here to help her through it?”

  Still not convinced, Mary shook her head again. “People are telling her that her stepmother is nuts,” she said.

  “And other people are jumping to your defense because they know who you really are,” he said firmly. “People are going to talk. You can’t change that. All you have control of is how you are going to react to that conversation.”

  “But it’s not just about me now,” she repeated. “It’s about you and Clarissa.”

  Walking over to her, he took her hands in his and pulled her into his arms. “Okay, what would you like to do?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know yet,” she replied.

  He nodded and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Well, why don’t you think about it and let me know when you’ve considered things,” he said. “Then we can discuss it again.”

  She looked up at him, bewilderment in her eyes. “You’re really not upset with me?”

  “No, I’m not upset with you,” he said decisively. “But I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

  “Yeah, when the going gets tough,” Mike said, appearing next to them, “the tough throw in the towel.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing,” Mary said defensively. “I’m…” She paused for a moment, thought about it and sighed. “I am. I’m throwing in the towel because I’m tired and a little overwhelmed.”

  “Yeah, and you’re human,” Mike said gently. “And you’re pregnant. And people are not being as nice as they are supposed to be.”

  She chuckled softly. “Actually, people are being downright rude.”

  “Yep, and you have to love them anyway,” Mike replied. “That’s the tough part of doing what you do. It’s easy to like the nice people, not so easy to love the idiots.”

  “Can angels call people idiots?” Bradley asked.

  Mike grinned. “Only in a loving way,” he replied. “Besides, you need to remember that they don’t know any better. They are living in their safe, secure, little world and here you come, opening up possibilities that they have never considered. That’s scary. So, they push back.”

  “So what’s your advice for her?” Bradley asked.

  “Hang in there,” Mike said, winking at Mary. “There’s a reason for everything. We just don’t know what the reason for this is yet.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mary tiptoed down the stairs and crept into the kitchen. The house lights were off and the hands on the clock showed that it was after midnight. She moved through the house easily from memory, not needing to turn on the lights as she wound her way around the furniture into the kitchen. The first stop was the silverware drawer. She slowly slid it open, careful not to let the contents rattle, felt around inside and pulled out a spoon. After closing it just as carefully, she slipped across the room to the refrigerator and opened the freezer section. Light spilled from the inside of the freezer and illuminated a small area of the kitchen, barely reaching the shadowy figure cowering in the corner.

  Mary reached into the freezer and pulled out a small carton of dark chocolate ice cream. She pulled the lid off, inserted her spoon, and then immediately put the spoonful of the delicious, icy confection into her mouth. />
  “Mary.”

  She squealed and nearly choked on the ice cream.

  “Mike,” she whispered harshly. “You just about scared me to death.”

  “You have company,” was his quick reply.

  “What?” she cried, and as she spun around she caught a flash of movement in the corner of the room. “Who’s there?”

  “No one,” the figure whispered.

  “That doesn’t work very well,” Mike commented. “She’s smarter than that.”

  Mary bit back a chuckle. “Can I help you?” she asked, placing the spoon and the ice cream on the counter.

  “I don’t know,” came the sorrowful reply.

  Mary reached over and flipped on the light over the sink, bathing the room in soft light. She could now see the shadowy figure more clearly. He looked to have been a middle-aged businessman with a receding hairline and an increasing waistline. He was cowering, his back bent over and his head hidden. He was one of the least frightening ghosts she had ever met. “Why don’t you tell me what brought you here?” she suggested, climbing onto a stool. “And then I can tell you if I can help you.”

  He turned towards her and Mary gasped. His head was twisted grotesquely to one side and was hanging limply on his shoulder. And in order to see Mary, he had to turn to one side to speak with her. “I think I might be dead,” he began.

  Nodding slowly, Mary sent him a sympathetic smile. “I think you might be right,” she replied. “Do you remember when you died?”

  His eyes rolled up as he searched his memory and then popped back to focus and widened. “Yes, I remember,” he said. “We were at the house. The haunted house. Sol and I were there, looking for ghosts. Then…” He paused for another moment, allowing his eyes to roll up again. But this time there was no popping or widening. This time there was just grief. “That’s the problem. I can’t remember. But I suppose I just died.”

  “You were at a haunted house?” Mary asked. “Mr.?”

  “Cannon. Marty Cannon,” the ghost replied. “Yes, we were at our haunted house. Well, we were pretty sure it was haunted. But the ghost would simply not cooperate with us.”