What did she have to lose? She realized that in the worst case scenario, she might bring back something far worse. But, if she did nothing, the world was doomed anyway.
“Yes...it might work.” But, what if it didn’t?
It has to…
Chapter 69
On Thanksgiving Day, the spirit feigned an upset stomach, whining almost to the point that Georgia wanted to stay home and take care of him. But, he wouldn’t hear of it. “You have to go...it’s a family holiday. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
When she left, he got up off the sofa and marveled at his acting ability. In reality, he felt finer than he ever had. There didn’t seem to be anything about him that could not pass for a living mortal. Just like a real human, he sometimes bled when he shaved with a razor. There was no more than a trace of a scar where the gunshot wound had once been. And, it smarted when he hit his thumb with a hammer or whacked his elbow while going through a doorway.
Last week, he even got another bit of the sniffles. Georgia nearly yanked him by the ear to see the doctor. He refused...but figured that next time, he might just try his luck with a modern physician. Though, he did have some lingering fear that he might examine his blood under a microscope and find something abnormal...or look into his eyes and see some terrible vision inside that testified to his murderous ways.
His killings had slowed down, at least in frequency if not numbers. He found that a multiple murder of two or three in one day seemed to fill his needs for a longer period of time. The coolness of the air this month also seemed to halt some of his desire. He wondered if, in some ways, he was still a corpse, and the coldness helped to preserve him.
The last victim had been three days ago at Lake McCarthy, six miles to the east of Calathia. It was a popular fishing spot for the locals and a stopping spot for cross-country travelers due to its large RV park. He surprised a group of college boys. As they sat around a campfire, drinking beer and smashing bottles in the flames, he found it easy to pick them off when they stumbled off into the weeds to relieve themselves. He came up behind them, as stealthy as a wolf, and took them before they could scream.
It was all going too easily. He thanked his patience and determination for the way things seemed to be falling into place.
Curiously, he had not seen the annoying psychic woman since the carnival. She’d certainly been surprised to see him walking among the other mortals. He laughed out loud. Maybe now...she realized that he was invincible and wisely kept her distance.
He sighed as he took a walk out to the river, sat on a stump, and found a stick to whittle.
Everything was ready for his announcement to Georgia.
Patience...he told himself. Non si preoccupi. She will be unable to refuse.
Chapter 70
“Aunt Gorgie!” Clarissa screamed. “I haven’t seen you in years!”
Georgia laughed as she gave her niece a squeeze. “It’s only been a couple of weeks, sweetie.”
“Are you going to eat turkey with us? Jarrod says it’s just a big stinky dead bird.”
“He’s just trying to gross you out. That’s what brothers do.”
Marsha herded them in through the door, scolding them for letting the cold air in.
Georgia couldn’t hold her tongue. “I see you’ve still got the Pilgrim Dress.”
“Thanksgiving tradition. It’s getting a little tight, though.”
As she looked at the black polyester dress, Georgia refrained from commenting. Its low-cut square bodice barely contained Marsha’s bosom. Cinched at the waist with a square bronze belt buckle, it was so tight at the seams that she wondered if she would be able to get out of it without tearing it after a Thanksgiving meal.
“Speaking of holiday fashion, you’re not looking as prim as you used to. Are you letting your hair grow?”
Georgia fingered her shoulder-length dark locks. “I haven’t even thought about getting a haircut since I moved back. I guess I’ve just been so busy that I’ve just been throwing it up in a pony-tail.”
“Busy?” Marsha asked as she stretched her seams to the point of groaning as she bent over to check the turkey in the oven. “With what? That house can’t be that much work in the winter.”
“I’ve been doing a little painting.”
“Really? That’s great.” She stood up and wagged the turkey baster at her. “I’ve always loved your art. It was a shame when that bastard ex-husband of yours made you give it up.”
Georgia couldn’t believe it. What was she being buttered up for?
“I was hoping Daniel would join us tonight.”
“Your gardener friend? Is he still staying in the house?”
“At least for the winter...until he can find work and a new place in the spring.”
“You’d think he’d be busy now...raking leaves, tuning up the snow plow...”
“Oh...he stays busy. He’s gone a lot, but I’m not always sure what he’s up to. I don’t pry.”
“You’re a little sweet on him, aren’t you?”
Georgia let a little nervous laugh escape. “What makes you say that?”
“Remember when we were little girls, and we shared secrets about boys we had crushes on?”
“Yeah...so?”
“You’ve got that cross-eyed mushy look about you. I thought you had a thing for KarlBauer. But, I guess—”
Georgia felt relieved when Steven walked in with a bag from the grocery store. “Hey,” he said as he gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’m here to save the day. Marsha forgot to defrost the dinner rolls.”
Marsha stuck her tongue out before shooing him out of the kitchen.
After dinner was over, Stevie disappeared and cranked up the stereo in his bedroom, the kids went outside to play, and Steven retired to the living room to watch football.
Georgia helped Marsha load the dishwasher, noticing that her friendliness had vanished. After they washed and dried the rest by hand, Marsha poured them each another glass of wine. Then, she asked Georgia to sit down at the table.
“What’s up? You look serious.”
Marsha reached into the cupboard above the refrigerator and pulled a piece of paper out of a candy jar. Then, she sat down next to her.
“Read this.”
Georgia’s eyes widened when she saw the handwriting. “This is Grammie’s letter to you? You’re going to let me read it?”
She nodded.
As she began reading, Stevie walked into the kitchen. Marsha grabbed the letter out of Georgia’s hands and thrust it under the table onto her lap.
“Whatcha hiding, Ma?” he asked as he dove for the last piece of pumpkin pie.
“Nothing.”
He served himself the last piece then licked the knife clean. “You told her didn’t you?”
“Told her what?”
“You told her about the diamond. I’d bet my ass on it.”
“Watch your language.”
“Diamond?” Georgia said with raised eyebrows.
Marsha folded her arms. The paper fell to the floor, and she leaned down to snatch it up before Stevie could reach it. Then, she handed it back to Georgia.
Georgia read the letter as Stevie smirked and ate his pie. “Whoa,” she said when she reached the part about the Black Diamond. “Do you think this is true?”
“I have no idea.”
“It’s real,” Stevie said with a mouthful of whipped cream.
Don’t you remember the old legend about the old dude who built Great Grammie’s house?”
Georgia shook her head.
“He found this diamond hidden in a shipment of rose stock from Europe. It was so valuable that he hid it until he could figure out what to do with it. But, he died before he revealed its location to anyone.”
Georgia turned to Stevie, “I suppose that’s why I found you snooping around in some boxes in the basement?”
He nodded, gulping down the last piece of crust.
She looked at Marsha. “Why didn’t you tell
me about this earlier? I could’ve helped you look.”
Marsha shrugged. “How would I know that you wouldn’t keep it for yourself and sell it off to some jeweler in New York?”
“Give me a little more credit, will you? If Grammie left it to you in the will, I’d respect her wishes.”
“I think she knew where it was, but she got her last laugh by not telling me.”
“That does stink.”
“She had no right to—”
Georgia sighed. “Are you kidding? She tried so many times to make amends with you, and you didn’t give her an inch in return. I’m not going to say that you deserved it, but you didn’t not deserve it either.”
“Alright. So the jig is up. Will you help us look for it now?” Marsha asked.
“Of course. How exciting!”
“It’s worth millions...I’ll bet,” Stevie said with a wild look in his eyes.
“Wouldn’t that be something!”
“Don’t tell your roommate, Daniel. Don’t even tell Fred and Annie. We can’t trust anybody outside the family with this secret. It’s too valuable.”
“Not Daniel? How am I going to keep it from him when I’m rummaging all over the house?”
“Better safe than sorry. How do you know you can trust this guy? How well do you know him?”
Georgia sighed. “I don’t much about his past. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.”
“I won’t tell you to kick him out. But, I’d sleep with only one eye shut if I was in the house with that dude.”
“Stevie! Why would you—”
“He’s trouble, Georgia. Trust me. The sooner you’re rid of him the better.”
Chapter 71
Figuring that it was all nonsense, Georgia quickly forgot about searching for the mysterious Black Diamond. Surrounded by dusty racks of dried rose bouquets hung upside down and tied with raffia, she continued with her art. Each day, her imagination seemed to grab a hold of her paintbrush and possess it.
Today, she worked on a painting of her grandmother plucking a bouquet of violets. An ethereal glow emanated from her body which could be interpreted as sunshine or an angelic halo.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts about how to proceed that she didn’t notice Daniel in the doorway until he coughed. When she looked up, he was holding a silver tray with steam rising above it. “I’ve brought you some dinner, my dear Michelangelette.”
“Thank you. I really don’t need to be served all the time, though. I’m perfectly capable of making my own meals.”
“Signora, you must be joking! You’ve been in here for nine hours straight. If I didn’t bring you food and water, you might truly be a starving artist.”
“Have I really been in here that long?” she asked as she glanced out the window and realized that the sun had long since set and, it was moonbeams lighting up her canvas from the window. As he entered the room, she turned the easel away from him, not yet ready to reveal it.
“I fear that if I didn’t check on you now and then...I might come in and find a skeleton gripping a paintbrush between its bony fingers.”
She realized that he was right as he raised the silver lid on a steaming bowl of fettuccine covered in a creamy sauce. The delicious scent caused stabbing pains of hunger. Her mouth watered as he set the tray down and lifted a small box up from it just in time to keep it from being soiled by the sloshing milk foam from the cup of cappuccino.
“Another gift? I don’t know if you’re spoiling me out of kindness...or bribing me to keep you on as a gardening butler!”
“Go ahead...open it,” he said as a curious smile spread across his face.
She groaned, wanting to reach for the pasta instead, but then took it from his outstretched hand.
After taking the lid off, she found an envelope nestled inside. Her bemused look evoked no clue from him as she slid her thumbnail under the flap and pulled out a folded card. She turned it over to the front and saw a photo of one of her favorite paintings. It was Marsha’s barn with giant bales of hay posed out front like massive cinnamon rolls against a fiery sky and a diminutive fairy peering out from behind the wheel of a tractor. “How did you do this? I didn’t know you knew how to use my camera.”
“I have more skills than you know,” he said as he winked. “Isn’t modern technology wonderful? I persuaded an old fellow at the print shop to create a free sample invitation.
“Invitation?”
“Look inside.”
She opened the flap and read the inscription. Then, she laid it down on her lap and looked up at him.
“It’s time for you to show your talent to the world.”
“But, Daniel...I just paint for the joy of it. Who would want—”
“You insult me! I consider myself to be a connoisseur of beauty, and your paintings are exquisitely beautiful. You’ve been painting like a madwoman for weeks. Every day, the delivery truck comes with new canvasses for you. How many paintings do you have now? Fifty? Sixty? A hundred? It’s time for you to have your own show! As you’ve told me...so many years, you sat on the sidelines promoting the works of other artists.”
“I don’t know. I’m not ready—”
“Schiocchezza! Nonsense! Give me a list of your contacts in New York, and I’ll make it happen for you.”
“New York? No one’s going to come all the way out here.”
“Maybe they’ll find it...how do you say...kitschy...so out of the ordinary that it will have an extraordinary appeal. It will be your coming out party.”
Georgia picked up the card again. New Year’s Eve?”
“I want the party to be memorable...the start of a new year and our...your new life here.”
She put a hand on her chest and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know what to say. You’ve caught me off guard.”
“Just say yes and leave it to me. I’ll send out invitations...”
“I’m starving right now. I can’t even think straight. Let me eat and think about it.”
“All right, but I’ll be back,” he said with a bow as he backed out the door.
After eating, Georgia gave her address and phone book to him. But, when he reached for it, she held onto it for a second before letting go. “What are you going to say?”
“I’ll tell them that you are the greatest artist since Picasso.”
“Don’t say that! They’ll hang up on you before you can say another word.”
“They will believe me.”
“Really, Daniel. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. You’re dangerously optimistic. I don’t want to be the laughing stock—”
Before she could finish, he stepped closer to her. So close, that she could feel his warm breath on her neck. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “What have you got to lose mia amore? Your life is here now...not there. If someone doesn’t come...it is their loss...not yours.”
“You really believe in me that much?”
“There is no question. But, I ask you...do you believe in me? Do you trust that I can make this happen for you?”
He paused, with his lips just an inch away from hers. His fingertips traced down the side of her cheek. Then, he gave her the lightest kiss on her mouth. It was so soft...so delicate and unexpected...that she was sure she had imagined it when she opened her eyes.
Whispering in her ear, he gave her a squeeze as he pressed into her. “Why do you have so little faith in yourself, when I have known you for such a short time and know that you are so special?” He brushed the bangs back from her face. “Think about it some more if you must, but...I won’t take no for an answer.” Then, he grabbed her hands and held them up between them. “We shall have a party like this town has never seen.”
She inhaled a deep draught of air filled with turpentine, paint, and dried flowers. After a flashed smile, he vanished down the hallway.
*****
That night, the unnatural palpitations in her heart and the stew of emotions prevented her from sleeping.
<
br /> Daniel was gorgeous and charming. He understood her art...and was interested in it. And he even wanted to be her agent! She couldn’t have dreamt up a more perfect person.
All of these happy-scared feelings about the upcoming party and Daniel made her feel lightheaded as she lay down in bed.
She took a yellow brick to help her fall asleep and had The Dream once more. But, this time...she didn’t die. Her pursuer chased her through the rose garden, and she giggled and laughed until she fell in the mud in her white cotton dress. Covered in brown wet splatters, she didn’t care as he fell on top of her and began kissing down the sides of her neck and onto her breasts.
“Alphonso…don’t stop”.
Chapter 72
“You’re going to what?”
Opal raised her voice. “I said...I’m going to perform another séance”.
Karl pulled her into his office. “Shhh! Not so loud,” Once they were inside, he shut the door. “What on earth for?”
“Aunt Grace told me that my mother was able to talk with spirits. But, apparently she gave it up after having a bad experience. I’m going to talk to her and—”
“Grandma? She’s been dead for—”
“Precisely. And, isn’t it silly that I’ve never had the courage to try to reach her?”
Karl shook his head and looked at her like she’d lost the last screw holding her fragile brain together.
“I know you think I’m crazy. But, somehow I know she can help me figure a way out of this mess. She’s on the other side now—she’s got inside knowledge of how this whole paranormal thing works.”
“Ma...that’s the most absurd thing I’ve heard—”
“Don’t start. You of all people should want to help me. Don’t you want these murders to stop?”
“Of course.”
She felt pity for him when she saw the desperation in his blue eyes. Were they beginning to water? Her poor son was caught between his desperation to solve the murders and her demented ramblings.
“You told me you saw him disappear right before your eyes. So, you don’t doubt anymore.”
The Gardener Page 30
