The Gemini Bridge

by Shea Meadows

  The house was on Fillmore Street, near Uptown. Looked to be in good shape, but older, probably built in the forties. The door was solid redwood, covered by a storm door, a silver knocker in its center, and long stained glass windows on either side. Moon stood and admired it for a moment, took a deep breath and knocked. Why did she feel nervous? She’d done this time and time again. But now, something was different; shivers had plagued her ever since she’d spoken to Mrs. Mansfield on the phone.

  The door opened, framing a tall, powerfully built woman in tan slacks and white T-shirt, her blond hair pulled up in a soft pile on top of her head. She would have been pretty but her jaw was rigid, teeth clenched, and there were dark blue circles under her eyes. Her hands, one of which held a cigarette, trembled as she let Moon in.

  She puffed out a trail of smoke to the side before she spoke. “You’re Moon Angel. I recognize you from the magazine article. I’m Peggy Mansfield. Come in.”

  Reluctantly, Moon moved through the smoky cloud, which seemed thicker than what could be generated by one cigarette.

  There’s spirit-cloud in here. She’s making it worse with the smoking. The whole place is swimming with it. There’s probably a crowd of ghosts here.

  Ricky, floating somewhere above the scene, could hear Moon thinking and saw a cobweb-like mantle of energy that seemed to coat the room, covering floor, walls, and furniture, drifting up the stairs.

  Moon followed Peggy into the living room and sat down on the red, overstuffed coach opposite her hostess, who perched nervously on the edge of an upholstered straight-backed chair. Her hand was well within reach of an ashtray and a pack of cigarettes on the wooden coffee table.

  “Well, any impression yet?” Peggy was obviously anxious to get down to business.

  Moon smiled and looked around, trying to sort out any forms of individual ghosts that might be listening to the interview. “Everything within my line of vision is covered with a fine mist that indicates intense spirit activity. It’s been going on for some time now because the area’s thick with it. I’ve no doubt we’ll make contact with someone or several some ones.”

  Peggy lit a cigarette from the butt of her last one, then looked around the room. “I can almost see it. Less so during the day, but at night it’s like walking through fog. Not that I walk around in this place much after dark. Whoever it is used to stay out of my bedroom; I felt safe in there. But recently…it’s everywhere in the house. I’m ready to sell, even if I take a loss. But here’s the really scary part…” she paused to take a deep drag, “I’m afraid the thing’s attached to me, not the place. If I sell, I have the feeling it’ll follow me to the next house. Can you help me?”

  The smile kept slipping from Moon’s face, even though she attempted to keep it there. “That’s my work. I talk to spirits and convince them to move on. Sometimes I help them resolve issues of their own before they leave. Usually I’m very successful.”

  She leaned forward and took Peggy’s cigarette-free hand in her own. “I want to assure you. Entity attachment to living people isn’t the norm in this country. Spirits are more likely attached to locations. In Tibet or India, or other cultures where entities are a recognized part of the spiritual-belief system, attachment to individuals is more common. Here, it’s just not part of our cultural mindset. We’ll get this sorted out. Don’t worry.”

  “You said on the phone you’d tour the place. Want to start?” Peggy was already on her feet, shifting nervously back and forth.

  Moon nodded.

  Ricky’s consciousness trailed behind as the two women moved from the room. Everything on the main level was deeply coated in the etheric fog but no individual ghostly form was encountered. The basement of the house was covered as well. Ricky watched, fascinated, as Moon moved through cobwebs of energy that reached almost to her waist. She could tell from her sister’s thoughts that this was extremely unusual.

  “Peggy, the spirit fog is everywhere,” Moon commented as they went through the upstairs bedrooms, “but I haven’t come across its source. Usually ghosts are horrible showoffs. They love to create scenes. Is there any place you haven’t shown me?”

  “Only this storage room. It was a bedroom for the renters, so just maybe…” Peggy pushed hard on a sticking door that led into a small space crammed with boxes and unused furniture.

  Ricky spotted the ghost sitting quietly in the corner of the closet, holding its breath even though it was no longer capable of breathing. Moon spotted it next, then turned to Peggy with an unexpected command. “Put out your cigarette at once. I have to see something.”

  Peggy looked miffed but stubbed out her smoke in the dirt of a floor plant in the hallway. “Was this bothering you, or is the ghost allergic?”

  Moon answered with a somber look. “The cigarette smoke obscured the connecting line. It was there all the time, but I didn’t see it. The spirit is attached to you—like a baby attached to its mother with an umbilical cord. You were right. Moving to another house won’t help. We have to figure out why this being latched on. I’ll talk to her.”

  “Her? It’s a woman?” Peggy’s hands, now devoid of cigarette, fluttered around anxiously.

  “It was a woman, or possibly a living woman in a coma. You can stay if you like, as long as you keep quiet and don’t light another cigarette.”

  “Is it okay if I go downstairs and smoke? I’m really nervous, and it’s the only thing that calms me.”

  Moon nodded and waved Peggy out of the room, then cleared a space in the center of the floor, set her embroidered sack down, and sat cross-legged with eyes closed next to it. She reached into the sack and took out a gemstone and rubbed it between her palms. A flair of light glowed around her fingers, and the ghost in the closet moved toward her.

  A whispery voice drifted from the shadowy figure. “Sure is perdy. Like sittin’ next’ ta a camp fir.” The ghost sat down on the floor next to Moon, focused on the light. Gradually the shadow formed into a scrawny woman who appeared to weigh about eighty pounds. Her skin seemed loose and saggy, like a person who’d lost a lot of weight quickly.

  Moon looked into the spirit’s face and smiled. “Hello, I’m known as Moon Angel. Who are you?”

  The woman opened a sunken mouth, which contained a few broken teeth, then closed it again. Moon waited patiently for several minutes, then asked. “Have you lived here long?”

  The ghost laughed. “Heavens no. Couldn’ ‘ford nothin’ this fancy. I’m just visitin’. Hepin old Doc with a project. Lest I could do since he saved my life.”

  “What kind of a project?”

  “Hepin him study tobacca.”

  “Tobacco? Do you mean smoking or chewing?”

  “Chaw costs less, but I loves to smoke.”

  “That’s interesting. Tell me about it.”

  The ghost crinkled her nose and rubbed her hand over her forehead, confusion evident.

  “Can’t rightly member. Not schooled, ya know. Sumpin about the benefits of tobacca. He’s provin’ its good.”

  The ghost laughed which brought on a hacking cough, then shook her head, and graced Moon with a broken-toothed smile. “I’m a poor zample of his theory. I was sicker than heck with the lung cancer when he saved me. Came from smokin’. Never had enough to eat, but I’d sell my las’ chicken egg to get paper and tobacca to roll my own.” She laughed again. “Here, I jus’ hang aroun’ with Peggy an’ breathe her smoke. Don’t cost a penny.”

  Moon smiled. “So Doc saved you. Do you remember how he did it? Did he put you in the hospital?”

  This set the ghost into another round of hacking laughter. “Hospital? For the likes of me? Ervin had Doc come ‘round when I started coughin’ blood.” The ghost looked down at gnarled hands. “Think Doc gave me some med’cine or somethin’, but I don’ member. But whatever it twas, I feel tons better. Still got this blasted cough, but no more bleedin’.”

  Moon breathed deeply. It was obvious the woman didn’t know she was a ghost. “So can you tell
me your name? I’m here to help. Maybe make you more comfortable.”

  The ghost looked around the room. “How’s tellin’ you my name going to hep anythin’? I tried to say howdy to Peggy, but she aint social. Thought she’d wanna know me, feller smoker an’ all. She’s afeared of people or somethin’. Her man, Brad’s his name, was a high-n-mighty type. Skedaddled when I moved in. Got all mad cause me and Peggy likes tobacca.” She shook her head sadly. “Don’ unnerstan’ it. Doc said they’d welcome me with open arms. That they’s southern folk.”

  Ricky heard Moon’s thoughts: tell me your name, let down your guard. You’re stuck here if you don’t tell me. But in spite of the urgency to know, Moon appeared calm and unrushed. “Where was home?”

  “Fork Mountain, West Virginie. Little town with fifty souls, scattered aroun’ the hill country. Erv and me were borned there.

  “Are you and Erv related?”

  The ghost smiled. “Kissin’ cousins on my papaw’s side. Both McGuires.”

  “You called Ervin ‘Erv’. Did he have a pet name for you?”

  “Cilla. Short for Pricilla. My brothers called me Prissy, an’ I hated it. I liked Cilla better.”

  Moon smiled and gently asked, “Can I call you that? Or maybe Mrs. McGuire?”

  The ghost sighed, which moved the mist around in the room, and returned Moon’s smile. “Call me Cilla. I miss hearin’ Erv say it. Doc shoulda moved him here too. I miss that man somethin’ fierce.”

  “Cilla, what year was it that Doc cured you?”

  Cilla scratched her head. “I believe twas nineteen-sevty. I member that cause twas my fiftieth birthday. Erv gave me a new goat the week afore he called Doc for my bleeding lungs.”

  “Cilla, it’s a new century now, June 2000. That would make you eighty years old. Have you lived with Peggy for thirty years?”

  Cilla looked confused. Her eyes darted back and forth around the room. “I aint heped Doc on this tobacca thing for no thirty years! Your brain is addled. I jus’ met Peggy couple months back. She sayed Brad moved out a month ago. It hasn’t been no thirty years. I’m not eighty!”

  Moon held her open hands with the stone toward Cilla, and this calmed her.

  “Do you remember how Doc brought you here? In a car, or maybe a train? You’re in Minneapolis Minnesota, you know.”

  The ghost started pacing around in a tight circle with Moon at its middle. “Knew it was up north, someare. He never tol’ me how long, or if he’s coming back fer me. Don’t ‘member how I got here. All of a sudden, I jus’ was. This whole thing’s goofy when I thinks on it. I been here long enuf. I’ve worked off my doctor bill. I wan’ ta be back with Erv.”

  “How old was Erv the last time you saw him?”

  “Seventy. McGuire men lives longer than the women. Mos’ of them married more than once. I’m wife number three. He always said he saved the best ‘til last.”

  Moon reached toward Cilla who now stood in front of her, looking down. “Cilla, he’d be one hundred and twenty. Do you think he’s still in Fork Mountain?”

  The ghost slipped down to the floor and looked around. She examined her hands and feet and the tattered remnant of cloth she wore as a dress. A sad smile replaced the confusion. “I’m a haint, aint I? Doc didn’t cure me. He stole my soul when it left my body. Heard tell some folks can do that. Come ta think of it, he didn’t act like hisself. Looked like Doc Bennet, but didn’ sound like him.”

  Moon nodded. “You’re right. You left your body thirty years ago. Somehow, the person who said he was Doc Bennet captured your spirit and brought you here. I’m not sure why. Perhaps he’s using you as a tool for his own purpose. He’s attached you to Peggy, and since you don’t belong here, your presence is disrupting her life. She asked me to talk to you because it’s my special talent.”

  Cilla slumped forward, looking nervously around the room. “Never was one to do folks harm. Hurt myself but was always kind ta others. How’m I hurtin’Peggy?”

  “Peggy called me because things have become too much for her. She used to be a heavy smoker but managed to quit. Her doctor told her she had polyps in her lungs. He warned her she’d have cancer or another breathing disease if she didn’t stop. She promised Brad she’d stop, and she was doing well. She’d been off the smokes for six months.”

  Cillia nodded. “Yup, she didn’ smoke when I moved in, but I could tell she wanted ‘em.”

  “Then, someone attached you to her. I don’t know why. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Because you were a heavy smoker, and she was too, she started craving cigarettes again. She started with one or two, but the more she smoked, the more the both of you craved them. Brad left her because she wouldn’t stop. Told her he’d only come back if she quit. The more she smoked the stronger the bond between you and Peggy grew, and the more you could act like a living person. It scared Peggy to have an invisible companion and made her smoke even more.”

  “Why’d Doc want ta hurt someon like that?” The ghost was softly crying, foggy tears pooling in her lap.

  Moon shook her head. “I don’t know, but I do know you and I can put an end to it. I’d guess that you were hanging around your home waiting for Erv to pass on. The soul stealer plucked you up from there and used you for his own purposes. He might have attached you to other people before Peggy. Do you remember anything at all after his visit?”

  Cilla shook her head. “No nothin’. Jus’ coughin’ blood, Doc comin’, then endin’ up here. Can you get me ta wherever Erv is? I miss him somethin’ awful.”

  “I can’t promise Erv will be there. The afterlife is a tricky place. He might have gone on to his next life already. But chances are he’s been waiting for you. If not, someone else who’s familiar will help you sort things out. Either way, the soul stealer won’t get a hold of you again. Once you’ve made the intention to leave, you can get on with your own progression.”

  The ghost looked confusion. “Pro-gresh-on? I don’t get it.”

  Moon smiled. “Never mind. Do you want to go to Heaven?”

  “Oh I truly do! Is it up yonder?” The ghost brightened like a bulb on a Christmas tree.

  Moon reached her hands out toward the ghost, closed her eyes, and spoke: “It’s my pleasure, Pricilla McGuire to free you from your servitude. You are no longer needed in this dimension. Go on to the next part of your journey.”

  There was a swish as if the north wind had suddenly manifested in the bedroom, and a dazzling flash of light which seemed to come from the ghost. After it dimmed, Ricky saw that Moon was alone.

  She watched as her sister took a packet of sage from the cloth sack along with a conch shell and a lighter. Moon put the sage in the shell, lit it with the lighter, and reached into the sack for a large feather. She prayed over the burning sage for a few minutes, then, after sliding the loop of the sack over her arm, she stood up and directed the sage smoke throughout the room with the feather. She then moved through the upstairs rooms, sending the sage smoke into every nook and cranny, including closets and bathrooms. The ghostly fog dissipated as she went.

  Ricky watched as she proceeded to the lower level, bypassing the living room where Peggy sat with a cigarette burning down to the filter but not held to her lips. Moon went to the basement, cleared the spirit fog from there with sage smoke, then back again to the first floor. Peggy came out of her stupor when Moon entered the room. She jumped up, burning her fingers on the smoldering cigarette and quickly stubbed it in the ashtray. “I felt something happen. Is she gone?”

  Moon continued to sage the room and then emptied the remaining sage ash in the ashtray. She looked toward Peggy and smiled. “Yes, she’s gone. It was very confusing. I’m not sure why she was here, but I think that you’ll be successful in giving up smoking now that she’s transitioned. That is if you really want to.”

  Peggy smiled in return. “Of course I do. I love Brad and want him back. My dad died from lung cancer, my mom from emphysema. I know I have to get through this addiction. I was
doing pretty well until the ghost showed up.”

  Moon explained what she knew about the late Pricilla McGuire of Fork Mountain, West Virginia. Then she asked: “Is there any family connection to the McGuires? Any reason you can think of that she chose you as a smoking buddy?”

  Peggy shook her head. “I can’t remember ever hearing the name. My parents knew people from all over the country. It’s possible they knew her, but I doubt it. She doesn’t sound like their kind of friend.”

  Moon thought for a moment. “Who does the house belong to?”

  “Me. I inherited it from my parents. Mom died first, then Dad. Both were heavy smokers. We lived in Florida at the time, and I had just had the bad news from my doctor and quit smoking. After about ten years, Brad got a job offer from a firm in Minneapolis. We’d kept the house and rented it to a family with three kids. We gave them six months notice when we decided we wanted to live here. They were a little upset but not mad enough to seek revenge. Pretty normal people. I can’t imagine them attaching a ghost to me.”

  Moon shook her head. “You can never tell. People have secret lives. This thing is really disturbing. Whoever did this had a purpose. They were also very powerful— someone well-versed in the arcane. I have a feeling it had something to do with the house. If you were to die, who would inherit the property?”

  Peggy shook her head. “Brad is my beneficiary, but I was thinking of changing that. I felt deserted when he left. Now that the ghost is gone, I understand why he had to do it to get through to me. My next closest relative is my cousin Connie. I haven’t seen her in years, but now that I think of it, she’s into this kind of stuff. Lives in Lansing, Michigan, I think. Studied with some teacher in Chicago. I remember her writing about some spirit class in a Christmas newsletter.”

  Moon took a small notebook from her sack, and wrote a few lines, and passed them to Peggy. “If you wouldn’t mind, could I have some names from you? This is a disturbing case of soul attachment. I want to research it further. I promise not to make any of it public, but I hate to leave all these loose ends dangling. Could I have your parents’ names, dates of birth, place of birth and whatever else you think might help? History of this house maybe? Also, the name of the renters, and for good measure, your cousin Connie’s full name, address, and phone if you have it? This is my email address. Email them to me if you would. I’m going to do a little detective work. Try to figure out what might be behind this haunting. See if I can find the soul catcher responsible. I don’t think he’ll try again, but there’s always a chance.”