Mae settled back into her chair, struggling not to cry. Frosty air radiated off her, penetrating Liz’s flannel robe. The baby’s nose was running. Liz wiped it with a tissue. He protested, arms flailing.
The fog of living between worlds clouded her thoughts. The weight of all their collective misery sat on her shoulders. Liz had to plan, do, act or they’d all go down with her.
“I want to take a walk on the beach.” Perhaps Edward would give her some guidance.
Mae put down her teacup and took Liz’s arm. “Not by yourself.”
“Having company will distract me. I need privacy.”
“Liz, do you really think I’d let you go off to the beach alone after all the trouble ya stirred up the last time?”
Liz bristled. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“We need to get rid of the spirits, not rile them up again.” Mae leaned across the table.
She backed away. “I’m not a prisoner, Mae. I can go where I want, when I want.”
“Ya must be jokin’. I’m goin’ to let ya go on a stroll to the beach in the middle of the winter? Especially with your record of . . .”
“I know I’ve made some poor choices before. But the water soothes me, and I feel like I can connect with Edward there. Surely you must understand how solitude with your thoughts allows you to think things through.”
Mae frowned. “Who’s talking right now, Liz, or Elisabeth?”
“Liz. Absolutely me.” She pounded her fists on the table. “Edward is the father of my child. I want to be near where he’s buried–just like I was visiting a cemetery. Why can’t you understand?”
“You got pregnant that night you spent with Mike on the beach. I saw both of you covered in sand, remember?” Mae backed against the wall as if she was trying to get away.
“You don’t remember that Edward manifested himself when Eddie was born?”
“Sure do. But a haunted house is enough of a stretch for me to accept without claimin’ that a ghost made you pregnant. We just humored you, me, Mike, and Kevin figuring it was a convenient excuse for some fling you’d had. Or an assault.”
“Edward took me back to the last night before he sailed on his final voyage, and I became the host for Elisabeth. I ran after him and almost drowned. But he saved me, pulled me back onto the beach. Mike was going fishing when he found me.”
Mae’s eyes were as wide as saucers.
“Mike and I had just met. We’d never been together. He didn’t believe it either. But when Edward spoke to him at the birth and told him to take care of us, he knew it was true.”
“I’m a God-fearin’ woman . . .” Mae’s head shook like she had Parkinson’s.
“Mae, none of these ghosts will rest, including Paul and Katherine Mays, unless they have a chance to reconcile their sorrows and right their wrongs. Elisabeth and Jared are giving it a go. I need to find Edward to help. Please understand. Let me go down to the beach and see if Elisabeth can connect with him.”
“What would Mike and Kevin say if I let you do that?”
“The hell with Mike and Kevin. And the hell with you, too! I’m sick of being watched like I’m going to explode.”
Mae took her hand. “Liz, please. Each of us is battling our own private hell. Hard to shake those memories.” The brogue faded. Mae’s voice drifted off.
The wound Liz just inflicted on her friend had opened up an old scar. She left the room before she said something else she’d regret.
Liz made the bed, then paced around the bedroom. If she’d stayed in Beacon Hill, the upstanding widow would have the sympathy of everyone around her. She wouldn’t have Eddie, but she would still have a relationship with Jay.
There would have been no court battles, legal challenges, and once the partnership payments had stopped there would have been an investigation into why. Jeffers might not have had the opportunity to steal her money. But her son, grieving, immature, and gullible had pulled down the shades behind which the lawyer ruined the practice as well as her life and those of a lot of others.
Sure she’d be restless, wonder why she had a vague sense of missing someone or something. She’d sit on the same Cape Cod beach, summer after summer, pondering why it had such significance.
A small shiver of recognition, of regret, might run through her when she drove past the dilapidated Victorian, on her way back to Boston. She’d chalk it up to melancholy about going back to her lonely house. She might have never figured out who the dream lover was, enticing her to come to him, to come to the Cape. She’d still have all Gerry’s life insurance money, her respectability, and could hold her head up, feel sane, competent.
Mike would still be a lonely fisherman, living alone, in a dated house, rife with sad memories of his first wife and a daughter who hated to come home. Mae and Kevin would still be blissfully in love, no better off, no worse, always figuring out what to do, always together, making the best of what ever opportunity came their way.
Gerry, why didn’t you stop me? Everyone else tried to convince me I was making a mistake, bargaining on a stream of income even though you were dead and gone. Edward, why did you lure me back into the exact same circumstances and financial ruin that led Elisabeth to her death?
Yes, Edward. The words weren’t hers. Why did I leave London? I could have had an easy life filled with useless banter and meaningless activities. I’d have married a nobleman who would have left me alone while dallying with his mistresses once I’d dutifully produced an heir. I could have attended balls, teas, luncheons, ridden foxhunts. I’d have had pretty frocks, known what happened to my mother and father. I wouldn’t have died alone.
I tasted the glory of love, happiness, passion only to have it stolen away by your affair with the sea. Then loneliness, misery, desperation that touched everyone I knew. Why, Edward? Why did I follow you?
I want to go to Apthorp, my father’s seat. See my mare, Copper. It hurt more to leave my horse than my parents. Poor Mama. Her last words to me came true. “If you leave, Elisabeth I know I shall never see you again.”
I’d hoped that a new life with Edward would be happier. A hope dashed on the rocks like a ship blown off course. Edward tried his best, built this beautiful home, then killed himself trying to pay for it all. I want to go back to Apthorp. I want to go home.
Liz stared in the mirror. “So. I’m going to London.”
How could she pay for that? How would she get away?
Mae passed by with the cranky baby in her arms. “I’m goin’ to put him down for a nap and clean upstairs. Anything in particular ya want for dinner?”
“No, thanks.” Guilt surged as she thought of Mike, next door eating frozen dinners.
Mae paced the halls upstairs, trying to soothe the confused tyke. Liz wrote some checks and calculated the balance in the checkbook. “Damn, where am I going to get the money to cover this?” She logged into online banking.
“Huh? $9500.00 in checking?” Her heart fluttered. “The check Marianne promised was deposited!”
More than enough for a flight to Heathrow and a few days in England. She’d leave from Logan after an overnight in Boston. First, she’d pay a visit to Bill Jeffers, if he’d see her. Demand some answers. With any luck, she’d find a whisper of Gerry tucked into a local haunt in the Back Bay to offer her some comfort.
Could she find Elisabeth’s ancestral home, her parent’s graves, anything? Maybe she’d be able to snag an appointment at the William Morris Gallery to find and order prints for the damn book. Selling that would certainly help her pay some bills.
“Thank you Elisabeth, Edward, Gerry. Or all of you. Whoever sent me this sign.”
She went to Expedia.com. Synchronicity could also be a good thing. A single one-way ticket for $399.00, tomorrow night. Eddie could sit on her lap. A few clicks later, she se
cured the deal. A hotel? Google said Apthorp was the former seat of The Earl of Camberley. She’d figure it out when she got there.
Liz dug out the passports they’d obtained for the romantic honeymoon for three that never happened, and collected her needed papers. She stowed research notes into the laptop bag, lingered over a long note to Mike, and one to Mae and Kevin.
She packed. As the vacuum hummed, she dragged the suitcases downstairs and to the trunk of her car.
The house went quiet. Each of the nine dings of the old cuckoo clock grated on Liz’s already overwrought nerves.
She sneaked upstairs. Mae was curled up on the bed in the guest room, snoring like a kitten with a cold. She could have stood a nap herself, but there would be time for that later.
She bundled the sleepy baby into winter clothes and blasted the heat in the BMW. Eddie settled into his seat singing along, in baby language, to Lori Berkner’s CD “Bumblebees and Googleheads.”
She wasn’t coming home until she had answers to all the questions. There was no way to avoid hurting her friends. There was no way to save her marriage unless she got this figured out. There was no way she could stay here again tonight, fearing Jared’s wrath. No, this was the only way.
Liz peeled out of the driveway and filled the gas tank at the Mobil station. The teller didn’t raise an eyebrow when she withdrew $5000.00.
Eddie squealed when the music stopped, and she reloaded the CD. Liz ignored the portent and headed to Boston chiming in for the refrain, “I’m a Googlehead, too.”
Chapter 25
Mike hadn’t had a hangover since Mary died. He swallowed two aspirins, expired since 2005 but, like him, they might have a spark left. After a fresh start, he was now in danger of going stale, dormant again. He couldn’t face a whole day in this desolate house to ruminate about it, but he certainly wasn’t ready to face Liz.
Kevin came into the kitchen and rubbed his arms. “‘Tis been a cold, cold winter. I’ll be happy to see it end.”
A metaphor for life. “What did Mae say?”
Kevin’s face blanched. “There were visitations. From Jared and Elizabeth They faced off.”
Mike shuddered despite the heat seeping out of baseboard vents. “Jared, too?”
“Aye, and angry. Mae wants me to stay with her in the guest room tonight.” Worry lines graced the face of a man who never worried.
“Liz said she’s seen him before.” While he’d been drinking, Jared had been haunting.
“What did that Kensington woman say about this?”
The mention of Sandra’s name peeled the scab off another layer of guilt. “That the ghosts are trapped in moments of time that held great significance, either bad or good.”
Kevin frowned, nodded. “Well, for this crew it would have to be bad. They had to be absolutely miserable for the last years of their lives.”
Mike was absolutely miserable right now. “Let’s go to the diner. They say tomato juice is good for hangovers.” He owed Kevin breakfast, at the least.
“Don’t get hooked on that whiskey now. Never solved nothin’.”
He followed Kevin to his car. “I’m not a drinker. That was good going down, though. Aged and mellow, like I used to be.”
Kevin pulled into the diner parking lot. Mike lingered, stuck somewhere between the past and present.
“Are ya comin’ in? Ya look like yer whale watchin’ off P-town.” Kevin got out. Cold air surged in.
Mike dragged himself into the diner. “I’ll talk to Liz when we get back. Maybe last night will convince her to come with me.” Truth was, he’d rather be alone.
“Mornin’ Sylvia.” Kevin slid onto a stool at the counter. “Two eggs over easy, sausage on the side, white toast, butter, jelly. Tea.” He turned to Mike and grinned. “Mae wouldn’t approve.”
“Same for me, Syl. With a big glass of tomato juice.” He whispered aside to Kevin. “I don’t care what Liz approves of right now.”
Kevin frowned. “You’ve a right to be angry, but that won’t solve the problem.”
“True.” Rage bubbled like boiling water inside, scalding and blanching everything it sloshed over. He needed to let off steam, like a radiator relief valve, or he’d blow.
Sylvia plunked down the plates filled with food, cups, a tiny saucer of lemon wedges, a water glass of tomato juice, little jelly packets and pats of butter dewy with the moisture of melting ice. They dug in, fortifying themselves for the biting wind, the gale of discontent swirling and battering them all.
Mike paid the bill.
Kevin stepped into the entryway to answer a call. Face ashen, the cell phone at his ear, his mouth gaped in shock. “Are ya sure? Calm down, we’ll be right home.” He turned to Mike. “Liz is gone. Took Eddie, the BMW, and left while Mae grabbed a nap.”
Kevin bolted, making it to the driver’s seat and turning the key before Mike could respond. Mike jumped into the car after it started to move. His heart pounded. Where could she have gone? To the mall? Maybe the baby was sick and she took him to the pediatrician.
Dread gurgled in him. In her paranoid, irrational state of mind, Liz was capable of anything. The back of his neck prickled. Liz wouldn’t hurt Eddie, but one of her impulsive stunts might go wrong and . . .
Kevin took the turn into the drive on two wheels. Mae paced the porch, sobbing. “I was so tired, just laid down for a little while. How did she get out of here that fast? Couldn’t have been more than an hour.”
“Mae, you can’t attach yourself to her 24-7. It’s not yer fault.” Kevin embraced her, but she pushed him away.
“That’s what you said the last time.” Katherine broke through Mae’s damaged armor.
Kevin got his arms around her, and she quieted.
A spiral of fear, a terrible déjà vu swirled around Mike. “Where is the note?”
“She left three. Probably all say the same thing, with a bit of a personal touch.” Mae led them inside. “Left mine on the pillow right next to me. Yours is on the bed in yer, her, room. Kevin, yours is on the kitchen table.”
Mike ran upstairs and tore open the pale yellow envelope set against the fluffed and arranged pillows. His hands shook, he gasped for breath. Visions of her floating in the bay flipped through his mind like clips from a thriller. Forcing air into his lungs, he made himself read.
Dear Mike,
First of all, I’m fine and so is Eddie. Please try and understand I need some space, some time to settle things. If I don’t, things will never get better. I missed you terribly last night and wished you’d come home. I’m sure Mae told you about Jared being here. He was so angry, so hurt, and I’m sure you feel the same. By the time you read this, I will be far away so don’t go driving around searching. I’ll come home soon but won’t call, write or email because I don’t want a scene or an ultimatum.
Mike, I want things to work out between us. Spend this time dealing with your own anger, and Jared’s, while I do the same with mine and Elisabeth’s. Forget what Sandra says, this is the only way.
I left Mae and Kevin instructions for things that need to be done. There is enough money in the checking account, thanks to Marianne, and all the bills are paid for this month.
I’m sorry, Mike. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you again. You’ll find Sandra’s book in your night table drawer. Read the whole sad story about the Barretts. It’s all true. I tried to protect you, but there’s no way to evade the truth anymore.
Love,
Liz
Tears stung his eyes, and he mopped them with his sleeve. More took their place and his nose ran. He had to pee and throw up at the same time.
Jared thrashed. I told you! You should have stayed with her.
“Shut up!” Mike screamed. “I’m doing the best I can. The woman is crazy.”
> A draft blew around the room, and the bedroom door slammed back against the wall. Mike whirled, looking for the specters. “Get the hell out of here. Both of you.”
Elisabeth, in that God awful dress she’d died in, and Jared, disheveled grieving, faced each other.
“Leave us alone. You’re killing us all over again!” Mike’s voice clogged in his throat, as if he was being strangled.
Footsteps pounded in the halls. Mae and Kevin stampeded in.
She ran to him. “Michael, what is it?”
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