The Gemini Bridge (The York Street Series Book 1)

by Shea Meadows

  Ricky shivered. “Maybe I’ll see if Dad has room for me at his condo. I don’t like the idea of staying here with someone who’s been dead fifty years.”

  “Usually she behaves. I think she was showing off. Moon will keep her in line. All you had to do is ask, and she let us out. You’ve got your sister helping.”

  Somehow, the thought wasn’t reassuring. “As much as I loved Tilda, I’m not too comfortable hanging out with her ghost either.” Ricky looked around the hall. “Do you think she’ll stay here from now on, or is it a temporary thing?”

  Beth Ann shrugged. “I have to admit it, Ricky. I only made it through first level in Moon’s Spirit Communication class. I just don’t have the knack. I hit a brick wall when I try. Moon always said I was too restless. I do have some skills. I’m precognitive and can tell when something is coming. I’m seldom wrong. I’m an excellent energy healer, and have achieved the level of Reiki Master. Moon had me teaching the Reiki classes offered through her organization. But, I won’t be the one the ghosts speak too, even if it’s Moon.” She laughed, with a tinge of sadness. “Maybe, I said that wrong. They can talk, but I won’t hear them. It’s frustrating but true.” She sighed and looked at her hands. “Moon valued my talents anyway.”

  They walked into the meditation room, Ricky pausing for a moment before daring to ask the question. “You didn’t hear anything when I asked Tilda to get Nellie under control?”

  The other woman shook her head. “No, I felt a change in the temperature of the stairwell. It had gotten extremely cold, then the temperature shifted and the door opened. Did you hear something?”

  Ricky plopped down on a large meditation cushion on the floor. “I heard a weird voice that sounded like a breathless little girl. It said: ‘Don’t hurt the house. It didn’t do anything wrong. Sorry.’ Then the door opened right after. I wonder if David heard it.”

  Beth Ann picked up the safety box and sat down on a pillow near Ricky and smiled. “You should have asked him. I’ve got a feeling he knows more about this stuff than he lets on. And you…you’re a natural. Has Moon talked to you?”

  “Yes, I think so, but I could be imagining it. Before she died, I thought I heard her talking in our old twin language. Then, today, I think she said something when David first came in, about how cute we looked together, but I can’t be sure. Everything is muddled. When I asked for help in the stairwell, she didn’t answer, but the little girl’s voice…” Ricky looked around, feeling a subtle shift in the air. “Can you feel it? It’s different in here.”

  “Yeah, I think she’s here. I spent so much time with her; I recognize her energy field. I may not hear her, but I feel her.”

  Pigeon, the cat came into the room, and stretched against Beth Ann’s knees, before the animal butted her head against the safety box, and found a pillow of her own to nest in.

  “Well, I guess Pigeon wants us to work on the memorial service. I’m sure she and Moon are carrying on a continual conversation.”

  Beth Ann took out the instructions for the service and both women reviewed them. By the time they stopped to eat lunch, they’d chosen a date, rented the sanctuary of a local new age church, and called the musicians that Moon had requested. Tilda wanted specific people to speak, and they were informed as well.

  Beth Ann answered the door several times between tasks and frequently stopped to answer the phone. Another news crew came to the door, which she politely turned away, with a promise of a press release in the near future. Various friends and students brought food for whoever needed it. Some promised to line up the meal for after the service and get the word out to those in Moon’s spiritual network.

  Chester staggered into the kitchen while Ricky and Beth Ann were fixing lunch. He sat morosely with them at the table, gobbling down sliced turkey sandwiches and drinking freshly-made lemonade. Dessert was homemade apple tarts, left by one of Moon’s grateful clients who had cried while delivering them.

  Chester agreed to help after lunch, making some of the remaining calls while Beth Ann and Ricky drafted the press release and designed a handout for the service. By three, they were finished, except for the decision about where to scatter the ashes, a subject that was strangely omitted from Moon’s detailed instructions.

  When everything they could do that day was finished, Beth Ann went back to her official residence two blocks away to get more clothes, and Chester went to his apartment, both promising to return for dinner.

  Ricky looked around the lower level, picking up things, looking in closets. She did everything very carefully, remembering how frightened she’d felt when trapped in the stairwell. There were more rooms upstairs to explore and a whole third level, but she didn’t feel brave enough to poke around on her own.

  What if there’s a resident ghost in one of the other bedrooms that Beth Ann forgot to mention? What if there’s a pentagram, or other weird stuff like that, on the floor of the third level? I don’t want to run into that on my own. I don’t see a television any place. Tilda must have found ghosts more entertaining. Maybe I’ll take a nap; that’ll keep me out of trouble.

  Ricky climbed the stairs, heading for Tilda’s bedroom. The door to the meditation room was still wide open. It looked relaxing and inviting. It felt like a cloud of serenity was permeating the room, and the aroma of roses seemed to fill the air for no apparent reason.

  Ricky lowered down onto the cushion she’d used before. Funny, I’m already starting to think of it as ‘my cushion’. Better not get too attached. Tilda probably gave the house to Beth Ann or her spiritual movement, whatever it’s called. Who’d want to live with a ghost anyway?

  The thought of Nellie sent shivers up and down her back and made her look over her shoulder, in case the child-ghost was lurking down the hall.

  Ricky reached her hands in the air like antennas, like she’d seen Beth Ann do when they’d sensed Tilda in the room earlier in the day. I’m not sure what I want to feel. My imagination is on overdrive. All this stuff is a bunch of superstitious clap-trap. A zing of energy traveled into her hands so quickly that it made it to her heart a split second later.

  “Okay, is that you Tilda? That’s not what you felt like before.” Her voice bounced back from the wall, a slight echo, which seemed strange in such a small room.

  She looked around, feeling the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She started to get up, to go anywhere but here. Maybe take a walk around the neighborhood. Her legs felt like rubber, and she was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming weariness.

  This is just too much for anyone to endure. Maybe a nap right here on the cushions. Close my eyes and shutout all this ghostly garbage. I’m being sucked into Tilda’s reality. I’m getting out of this house just as soon as I can… Her thoughts drifted away, as she lowered herself to the floor, landing on a red velvet cushion. Within a minute she was fast asleep.

  Ricky dreamt of being closed in the servant’s stairwell in the middle landing between the two floors. She was alone, at first, and then a bright light shown in the space before the second floor door. It became a cloud of various shades and colors, which coalesced into three figures. One was Tilda, wearing the same gossamer gold gown she’d worn in Ricky’s Chicago dream. The next, was a girl who looked about ten years old, long pixie-like face with a nervous expression, blond hair pulled back tightly, a low-waisted dress with lace around the neck and sleeves, and shoes with buttons instead of ties. Ricky knew the dress was dark green, for some unexplainable reason, this seemed important. The last, was Pigeon the cat.

  Tilda spoke first. Hi, Ricky. This is Eleanor Marie Reston, usually known as Nellie. She has something to tell you. Tilda put her hand on the child’s shoulder and squeezed it gently.

  Nellie looked down at her shoes, rubbed her leg against the cat’s body and was obviously embarrassed. I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have held the doors shut. That was nasty. She looked up with a pleading expression. Most of the time people with bodies ignore me. Moon was the only on
e to talk with me. Everyone else just talked about me. I wanted you to know I was real, so maybe you’d talk with me too. I get sooo lonely.

  Ricky should have been apoplectic with fear but felt as calm as Tilda’s statue of the Buddha. That’s okay Nellie. I accept your apology. But don’t expect ongoing conversations. I don’t have Moon’s ability to converse with spirit beings.

  Tilda and Nellie looked at each other and laughed. Ricky could hear the child murmuring to Moon, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Whatever it was, Nellie thought it was very amusing. Then Tilda gestured to Ricky to follow them through the open door at the top of the stairs and then down the second floor hallway. Ricky followed Pigeon’s swishing tail. When they got to the meditation room, Nellie pointed in. Ricky’s heart jumped to her throat. There, as still as the dead, was her body, curled up on the pillow with the very same black cat curled up near her chest. She looked at her companions, fear invading her thoughts. Am I dead too?

  Moon came up behind her and rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. No, you’re very much alive. You’re having an out-of-body experience. Some people call it lucid dreaming, but it’s much more than that. We wanted you to see your body, so you won’t discount this occurrence when you rejoin your physical form.

  Ricky stood for a moment, willing her heart beat to return to a normal speed. Knowing that she was disconnected from her heart at the moment, didn’t make the pounding in her chest seem any less real. It felt good to have Tilda’s hand on her shoulder. She turned to her sister and looked into her eyes.

  I don’t care if this is a dream, a hallucination or a sign of my decent into insanity. I’m just so happy to see you. She put her arms around her sister, almost expecting nothing would be there, but instead felt a very real form, that she encircled with all the love she should have shown when they’d been together in the flesh. They stood there together for what was probably only seconds but seemed to stretch into eternity. The moment was broken by Nellie’s voice.

  Moon? Are we going to show her? If we wait too long, the others will be back, and Chester brings a big cloud of confusion with him.

  Moon pulled back and smiled lovingly at Ricky. Hate to admit it, but she’s right. We’ll have plenty of time to talk from now on, but there’s something you need to see. You’re not to show it to anyone else, at least not until I have time to explain, and we can work out a strategy.

  Ricky nodded, and Moon and Nellie continued to lead the way down the hall to the third floor stairway. The wooden stairs creaked but were in good repair. Scuff marks told a history of numerous people who’d found their way to the upper level of the house. The locked door swung open easily for the body-less trio and their ghostly cat, revealing a large room with mint green carpeting, light blue walls scattered with bright posters. It was huge, seeming to encompass most of third floor, except for bathrooms and closets.

  This is where I did my classes for the most part. Moon’s voice had a wistful sound as she lead her sister into the room. I’m going to miss teaching here. It was a wonderful space.

  She continued on and pointed out the sliding walls that could divide the space into several smaller rooms. She pointed out the piles of pillows and the stacks of chairs that her students used, as well as crystals and candles sitting on small tables around the edges.

  Nellie and Pigeon ran around in the middle of the room, jumping and playing, then taking off into the air and zooming about, quite happy to entertain themselves as Moon showed Ricky the sites.

  Show her the copper rooms, Nellie called down to Moon from near the ceiling.

  Moon smiled. Those are Nellie’s favorite rooms on third floor. Her father was responsible for them. Follow me.

  She led Ricky to the front of the house, and through a five-foot-high wooden door which lead into a round room with stained glass windows. The room was about six feet in diameter and slanted into a point at the top. It had a rich, round, Oriental rug with a white lotus pattern on a blue background. A large fluffy green pillow sat in the center.

  This is one of two out-of-body rooms. The roof is cooper-clad inside of the cupolas. Nellie’s father was a spiritualist. He believed in lucid dreaming and spirit contact, so these rooms were specially built to assist him and his wife in their metaphysical experiments. They’re one of the reasons I bought this house.

  Ricky looked up to the ceiling where the round room extended into a peak. What’s it supposed to do?

  Moon looked fondly around the little room. It helps people who are having trouble mastering out-of-body work and spirit communication. Obviously, you’re not going to need it.

  Ricky shook her head. Why do you say that? I don’t know how to do any of that stuff.

  Ricky heard a laugh echoing from the top of the room and looked up to see the cat suspended in mid-air, licking her paws and Nellie grinning down at her. She just doesn’t get it, does she Moon? She’s talking to us and hearing us, but she doesn’t know she’s communicating with ghosts.

  Moon scowled up at Nellie. Behave yourself! Let her get used to the idea. We need help, and Ricky promised she’d be our bridge.

  When did I say I’d help? It’s wonderful to have this time with you, but I don’ remember volunteering for anything. You talk about our strategy, about being a bridge. What do you mean?

  Moon turned around and headed out the door of the small room, walking toward another just like it on the far end of the big classroom. Nellie and Pigeon swooped down and joined them on the floor.

  Moon, I have to know, when did I volunteer? I don’t think I want to get mixed up in stuff involving ghosts. It’s always been your thing, not mine.

  They’d arrived at the door to the other cupola. For a moment, Moon paused and looked into Ricky’s eyes. Remember when my body was dying? We had a conversation. You said: “I’d do anything to turn it around, to bring back our friendship, to have you back again. Anything.” And if memory serves, I responded: “Anything” and you said: “Yes anything. I’d do anything for you, Queen Tilda. Beta fredo alda.”

  Ricky’s dream-legs failed her, and she sat down in a heap in front of the second wooden door. Yeah, you’re right. I remember now. But I didn’t know you’d take me up on it. You said something else. Some twin language thing. What was it anyway?

  Moon laughed. I have to admit that I cheated. But there was a good chance you’d remember it if I did. It was: Wida ar widoda bo? Which means, with or without a body. You agreed to work with me, but I’m an honest being. I’ll let you decide after you hear about the project. You can still desert me if you want to, and I promise not to haunt you.

  Ricky pulled back up onto shaky legs. So what did you want to show me? Will it help me decide?

  Yes, it’s in here. Moon opened the second five-foot-high wooden door.

  This cupola room contained an extra feature: a geometric shape suspended from a fine line in the center of the ceiling, which hung over a large pyramid shape made of cooper rods on the floor, with a cushion at its center.

  This room is for the students who need a stronger energy-field to shift their consciousness. Moon knelt down at the edge of the pyramid and reached in through the frame. She moved the cushion and rolled back the patterned Oriental rug to expose the floor. She pushed down on the edge of a board, exposing a large crystal cluster, with an object under it. Just as Moon was about to remove it and expose the object, a voice boomed in Ricky’s ears.

  “Ricky, sorry to wake you. It’s five-thirty. Do you want to freshen up before your dad arrives?”

  She opened her eyes to see Pigeon, the cat, staring at her with a quizzical expression and Beth Ann sitting on a pillow near her head.

  Chapter 6

  Ricky rubbed her eyes and flexed her fingers, inspecting her hands as if they’d been missing. The grogginess of the deep, but very active, sleep was difficult to shake. The dream of Moon—the longer she stayed in this house, the more her sister became Moon, instead of Tilda—seemed more real to her than anything else sh
e’d experienced in the last several days. Should I tell Beth Ann about it? I know it was Moon. I’ve no doubt I hugged her. I can still feel her in my arms.

  She opened her mouth to tell her story, but her eyes caught movement in the doorway. Chester was standing there. He’d shaved his beard off, along with the remaining hair on his head. She remembered what Nellie had said. “Chester brings a cloud of confusion.”

  She told me not to tell anyone until I know more. Something tells me the warning applies especially to Chester. I’ll wait until Moon lets me know who to trust.

  Ricky stretched and shook her head from side to side. The dream was too much to deal with right then, so she relegated it to a corner of her mind. “Wow, was I ever out. This room is better than a sleeping pill. I’m going to run in and take a shower and change clothes.” She pulled up from the floor; legs numb, and stumbled forward. Chester rushed over to help her. She looked into his hazel eyes as she grabbed his arm for stability. “New look, Chester?”

  He grinned, probably the first genuine grin she’d seen on his face since returning home. “It’s my way of starting over. The beard was getting old, and the hair was more trouble than it was worth. Moon always said I’d look spectacular without them.”

  She smiled in return. A flood of images rushed through her mind. Chester and Moon together, arguing, then laughing. Chester with a group of students. Chester deep in meditation, his inner being stepping easily from his body. A foggy stream of energy attached to him through his heart. Chester hiding something deep in a trunk. What is this? Why am I seeing this? She released her grip on Chester’s arm and the images faded.

  What have you done to me, Moon? I don’t want to turn into you. I want my life back, even if yours is more exciting. Please don’t make me decide which one to live.

  Her legs were finally steady enough. Using the hallway wall for support, she managed to make it to Moon’s bedroom. She extracted a long denim jumper from her suitcase and paired it with a white eyelet blouse. One of Moon’s necklaces caught her eye, and without the slightest hesitation, she laid it by the outfit with its matching earrings.