My stomach knotted as I stared at Miranda. My little girl wasn’t so little anymore. Fourteen, going on forty. Last year, this time, she’d been terrified out of her wits by ghosts. This year, she was feeling sorry for them.
“I think maybe I’d better have a look in your room before I answer your question.” I wanted to run up there and demand to know who was prowling through my daughter’s room, but I forced myself to slow down. Right now, I needed to tell her about Gunner’s folks. “Let’s set your visitor aside for a moment. I have some news I need to tell you.”
She gave me a quizzical look. “Yeah? What’s up?”
I crossed around the table and embraced her, pulling her into my arms. “I’m so sorry, honey. Gunner’s parents were seriously injured in a fire tonight—Joe told me when he called. They’re in the hospital with third-degree burns and we’re not sure they’re going to make it. Gunner will be okay. He suffered from some minor smoke inhalation but he’s going to be all right.”
Her look of bewilderment turned into one of horror. “Oh no, that’s awful! They’re really nice people. Are you sure Gunner’s okay?” Her shoulders began to shake and I held her as tight as I could and kissed her on the forehead.
“He’ll be fine. But this is going to be very hard for him. Even if his parents recover, it’s going to be an uphill battle for a while. He’s going to need all the friends he’s got.” As I smoothed the hair away from her face, she bit her lip and nodded. “Life isn’t fair, honey. That’s one sad fact we both know.”
After a few minutes, she wiped her nose with a tissue and took a sip of her tea. “What happened? Was it an accident?”
I let out my breath slowly and steadied myself. She didn’t need gory details, but she’d hear about it from school or in the paper so I might as well tell her now. I told her as much as Joe had told me, leaving out the gruesome parts. After we drank our tea, I escorted her back to her bed and tucked her in. I tuned in, but couldn’t sense anybody or anything in the room. Randa caught my hand before I could leave.
“Mom, would you plug in a night-light in my room tonight?”
I smiled. “Sure thing. There’s one in the hall bathroom, I’ll get it now.” When I returned with the tabby-cat night-light and plugged it in, she was sitting up in bed.
“When’s the last time you checked the smoke detectors?” she asked.
“Joe checked them two weeks ago. They’re working fine.” I ruffled her hair and she didn’t protest. “Anything else?”
She shrugged and slid back under the covers. Nebula crawled up onto Randa and mewed. Randa snuggled her in her arms and rubbed her nose in the cat’s belly. “She misses her mom. So do I. Is Samantha okay?”
As I closed the door, I said, “I’m sure she’s fine, hon. She’ll be home before we know it.” I wished I didn’t feel like a liar.
On my way back to my bedroom, I stopped on a whim and turned to look over my shoulder. There, in front of Randa’s door, stood a woman. Around twenty years old, she was lovely, with long red hair cascading down her back. A tucked-waist dress fell to her calves, and she wore sturdy shoes. As I gazed at her, wondering what she wanted, the spirit’s eyes grew wide with surprise and she threw up her hands, as if warding off a blow, and screamed.
Even though I covered my ears, I knew that her voice had echoed only within my mind. As the scream reverberated, she vanished from the hall. I raced over to where she’d stood but felt only a cool shaft of air that vanished as I touched it. Closing my eyes, I reached out. No presence, no animosity, no real energy save for the hairs bristling on my arms.
Confused and tired, I crawled back into bed, resting against the headboard. If things kept up this way, maybe I’d skip my birthday this year.
Four
From Brigit’s Journal:
I know my choices haven’t been the wisest. I also know that sometimes people think I’m naive, and that I trust too much. My friend Margaret tells me so. I haven’t confided to Maggie everything that’s happened, but she knows about William and thinks this is all about my missing him. So I let her think what she will. I don’t even dare write the truth in this journal—what if the Missus found it? Or worse, Mr. Edward or Miss Irena? I’d be in so much trouble. So I stick to half-truths and shadows. I am so sick of shadows.
If only I could put my heart away—lock up my feelings and go through life like some of the other girls do. Angela, for example. She was due to get married last year and then her beau ran off with someone else. She never cried, not once. And she seems fine—she has her work, and she’s saving a nest egg for a little house, someday. But I wonder, when she’s alone, does she cry? I never ask. There are some moments into which you do not pry. It seems like so long ago I lost my heart. I wonder if I’ll ever find it again. And will it be whole, or broken forever?
I WOKE TO see Samantha dart across the bottom of the bed and off. “Sammy! Where have you been?” Pushing back the covers, I leapt out of bed but when I looked around for the cat, she was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, I knelt down and peeked beneath the heavy frame. Nothing.
A thorough search of my bedroom yielded no sign of her, and the door to the hall was closed. A dream? I shivered, hoping it was nothing more ominous. I’d seen plenty of animal spirits over the years, and I prayed that Samantha hadn’t crossed over the Bridge to the other side.
As I stared at myself in the mirror, I began to acknowledge to myself just how worried I was about her. I had to keep up appearances for the kids’ sake, but in the privacy of my room, images of cars and big dogs and miserable pathetic humans who preyed on the innocent—both two- and four-legged—ran through my mind. Samantha relied on us, trusted us to take care of her. I’d let her down. Somehow, someway, I’d failed.
A glance at the clock forced me to get myself in gear. I wiped my eyes and jumped in the shower. Joe would be coming over in an hour or so; I needed to be in good spirits for him, considering all he’d had to cope with last night. Thank God I had Murray and Harlow to talk to when I needed a little comfort.
As I lathered up, I leaned my forehead against the tile and let the water stream over my shoulders, willing it to remove some of the knots that had formed in my muscles. Our yoga class was in hiatus for two weeks while our teacher was away on vacation and though I tried to get in a workout at home, it wasn’t the same as having somebody guide me through the motions.
When Randa dragged herself down to breakfast, one look told me she hadn’t slept very well. Kip glanced at her, then me, frowning. He must have sensed something was up because he waited until I was stirring the oatmeal and sidled over to me.
“Mom, what’s wrong with Randa?” he whispered.
My kids asked tough questions, but I operated under the belief that the straight approach was usually best. I never lied to them unless I had an important reason. Sheltering them from the world’s ills wouldn’t help them, though I did tone down some of the darker aspects of existence when we got into discussions about crime and death and anger. If they could trust me to tell them the truth, then they might trust me with what went on in their lives.
“Honey, Gunner’s parents were hurt really bad in a fire last night. Joe was there. He called me so I could tell Randa before she heard about it from somebody else.” I gave him a tired smile.
Kip’s eyes grew wide. “Her tutor?”
I nodded. “That’s the one.”
For once, he didn’t press. He quietly set the table, even though it was Randa’s chore. When he went to feed the cats, I heard sniffling in the pantry and followed him. His eyes were wet as he filled four dishes.
“I want Sammy back,” he said, and my heart broke as his voice cracked. I sighed and wrapped my arms around him, rocking gently. He leaned his head against me and I softly kissed his hair.
“So do I, baby. So do I. We’ll look for her again today.” I contemplated telling them about seeing Samantha, but since it had been either a dream or a vision, I decided to hold off. They wanted her home in the fl
esh.
I dished out the oatmeal and poured orange juice, then made my mocha. I needed that black gold today, so brewed four shots of espresso and dosed it liberally with Coffee-mate, cocoa, and peppermint syrup.
Breakfast was a subdued affair. Kip hurried through his meal, and I knew he wanted to be outside, hunting for Samantha. I excused both of them from their chores, on the condition that they stay out of the lot next door. After stacking our plates in the dishwasher, I steeled myself for another trip over to the twilight zone.
As I picked my way across the lot, it was hard to imagine that I’d really seen the bright orbs darting and dashing around. Except, by now, I knew better than to question anything I’d seen firsthand. I’d learned that lesson the hard way over the past year.
As I got close to the basement, I tried to imagine what the house had looked like. Horvald’s description had been vivid—but what it conjured up was the silhouette of a haunted house against a full moon, with lightning striking the weathervane. I decided that I’d been watching too many horror movies. I skirted the wheelbarrows we’d used to carry brambles to the truck and headed over to the basement, cautiously stepped over the tape, careful to avoid slipping. One misstep and it would be over the edge with me, and possibly a broken neck, broken arm, broken leg . . . a lovely thought I had no intention of trying out.
As I peeked into the dank hole, it was easy enough to see the thick layer of leaf mulch that filled the basement. Thick, charred timbers lay half-buried where they’d fallen. The fire must have been horrific, to sweep through and gut the house before the firemen could stop it. Of course, back then, technology still hadn’t come into play in a big way, and the firemen may have had a harder time fighting the flames.
As a noise startled me, I glanced up. A fuzzy calico face was peeking at me from a patch of nearby brambles.
“Samantha!” Holding my breath, I crawled back over the rope and slowly began to inch my way in her direction, but three steps away, she turned and hightailed it into the thick of the bushes. “No!”
I whistled for her, called “Here kitty, kitty, kitty . . . here Samantha!” until my voice was hoarse, but there was no way I could follow her into the tangle without getting ripped to shreds by the thorns. Frustrated and shaken, I turned on my heel and marched back over to the house.
As I yanked off my jacket, Joe peeked through the door, startling me. I threw myself in his arms and gave him a long kiss. Every time he was out on a bad call, I reacted this way, but he took it in stride, letting me hold him until I was certain he was okay.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m home. Em? Em? What’s going on?”
“I thought I saw Samantha next door, but I couldn’t catch her,” I said, taking his hand as I led him into the living room. “I don’t know if I really saw her, or if it was wishful thinking. Anyway, it’s been crazy around here.” I told him about the Randa and the ghost outside her door. “I don’t think the spirit’s up to any harm. In fact, I’m not even sure she saw me, or if she’s a spirit at all. There wasn’t much actual energy there.”
He frowned. “If it wasn’t a ghost, what was it?”
I shrugged. “Could be a specter or a haunting . . . could be my tired eyes playing tricks on me.”
“Not likely. So what else is going on? You’ve got that ‘things-aren’t-quite-right’ look plastered across your face.”
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. He was right. Unfortunately, I also noticed the new surge of silver sprinkles in my hair, and right now I felt old, especially with my birthday coming up. Maybe I would visit Harlow’s favorite salon and treat myself to a color job. Pampering would be good for my birthday. And what better way to pamper than a spa day?
I’d learned to happily live with my curves—although they were more toned now thanks to the yoga—and I had finally accepted that I’d never be an inch over five-five. My growth spurt ended over twenty years ago. But my hair and a facial—now, that might just be the ticket to help me feel rejuvenated for the coming autumn.
“Honey? Honey?”
Startled, I realized that I’d been staring at myself in the mirror for over two minutes. I gave Joe a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry, I was just drifting. Listen, about the lot you bought . . .”
“What about it?”
“We have a problem with dancing lights.” When he looked at me, puzzled, I spelled it out for him.
Joe dropped back against the sofa, shaking his head. “At least you haven’t found any dead bodies yet.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Emerald,” he said, and I could see the beginnings of a grin, “Since I’ve known you, you’ve stumbled over two murdered bikers and a dead romance writer and her daughter. You’ve been cursed by dragons, and together, we saw a big, potentially nasty legend come to life. Face it, you’re a trouble magnet.” He tried to cover his butt by kissing me soundly. A damn fine kiss at that; a full-lay-back-run-hands-through-my-hair-breath-stealing kiss.
After I managed to regain my composure from the unexpected but welcome ravishment, I shook my head and crossed my feet into a semi-lotus position. I hadn’t mastered the full one yet, but I was working on it.
“Cad. Plying me with romance!” I bopped him over the head with a pillow resting behind my back and he laughed, grabbing it from me and tossing it across the room.
“You’re not getting away with that so easy, lady.” He reached out and drew one finger gently along my cheek, gazing at me through heavily lidded eyes that could see inside every corner of my being. “Pay up. I want your body.”
Desire flickered in my breasts and the pit of my stomach, but I pushed it aside, just for the moment. “I’m serious, Joe. This is weird shit.”
He sighed. “So tell me, what do we need to do? Is it dangerous?”
I mulled over the question. I could try to clean the lot, but without knowing what was going on, it probably wouldn’t take. Cleansing required at least a working knowledge of what entities or creatures I might be dealing with and I hesitated to go in there waving my Florida water and charms until I knew what I was up against.
“I don’t know. I haven’t got the faintest idea of what’s going on. Nor do I know who—or what—our visitor last night was. I think we need to do some research to find out just what kind of people the Brunswicks were. Meanwhile, be careful over there. Okay? I’m keeping the kids away until I know more about it.”
He yawned and stretched. “That’s probably the best we can do for now. Do you think your lady last night is connected to the lights you saw?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. We’re nearing All Hallows Eve. The dead walk during this time of year. Spirits rise to visit their loved ones, and the veil between worlds grows thin.”
Joe regarded me solemnly. “You’re really the one who needs to be careful, you know. I’m not head-blind, but I don’t get hit by as much as you do. Promise me you’ll watch yourself?”
He was serious, and for that I was grateful. Usually the men who’d entered my life ran when it came to matters like this, but Joe accepted the entire spirit world as part and parcel of my life. At the same time, he was cautious, not letting testosterone get in the way of clear thinking.
As I reached over and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, the door opened and Kip ran inside. He took one look at me, shook his head, and ran upstairs. I wasn’t about to get his hopes up by telling him about the groggy vision of Samantha on my bed or in the lot next door—too much possibility the sightings had been born out of my own desire rather than from reality.
“He’s hurting. I hope we find her soon, or our whole family’s going to be heartbroken, me included.”
Joe cuddled me with one arm. “Don’t forget about me, hon. I think the world of Sam and her kittens. Now, I’m going to go finish tearing out the last of those brambles so we can get down in that basement and find out what’s going on.” He stood up and headed toward the door.
I caught him by th
e arm before he went out. “Be careful. As I said, I don’t know what we’re dealing with. Just . . . take care of yourself.”
With a nod, he slipped on his jacket and work gloves and headed next door. As I toyed around with the remote, trying to decide whether to go help Joe or hunt down Randa and see how she was doing, the phone rang. I picked it up and a familiar voice echoed on the other end of the line.
“Emerald? This is Maeve. I got to thinking about your birthday this morning and had the feeling that I needed to call you.”
A feeling of relief swept over me, and I realized that I wanted to talk to her, too. “Maeve, I’m so glad you called. Listen, can we meet for tea?” She agreed to rendezvous with me at my shop in half an hour and I hung up and grabbed my keys. I should check in with Cinnamon and Lana anyway. Might as well head out early.
After letting Kip know where I was off to, I slipped through the hedge to peek in on Joe, who had built up a sweat. The beads of perspiration glistened on his skin. I fought the desire to rip off my clothes right then and there.
“I’m taking off for the shop. I’ll be gone an hour, maybe ninety minutes. You can reach me on my cell if you need me, and Kip knows to come over and get you in case something happens.”
He pulled out a bandana from his back pocket and wiped his nose. The chill air was making it run. “What do you want to do about dinner tonight?”
“I’ll pick up some takeout on the way home,” I called over my shoulder as I hurried down the drive, back to my yard where I climbed into my Mountaineer.
As I put the car into reverse and pulled out of the driveway I could see Randa, out on the roof, staring over the railing I’d had installed when we first moved in so she could sky-watch the night away in safety. She lifted one hand in half-salute when I blew a kiss at her, looking forlorn. As I tooled off down the street, I murmured a quiet prayer to the universe. The only thing I really wanted for my birthday was a little extra time so I could devote it to everybody who needed my attention. Some days, there was never enough of me to go around.
A Harvest of Bones Page 6
