by Joyce Lavene
“You didn’t even know him that well, did you?” Gramps asked. “It’s not like the two of you were friends or anything.”
“No! I haven’t even seen him since all of that stuff went down with the real estate scandal he was involved in last year.”
Chuck had almost lost his real estate license in some shady dealings. I’d expected him to leave the area—he was new to Duck—but he’d hung on. It couldn’t have been easy for him—regaining the community’s trust was no small task.
But other than the fact that his mother had been in real estate too and had lost her award medallion here when he was a kid, I knew nothing about Chuck.
“That doesn’t seem like much of a connection for him to reach out to you from the grave,” Gramps said.
“Not even the grave yet,” I reminded him. “In the vision, he wasn’t even dead yet. At least I don’t think so. But it was like he could see me. No one has ever acted like they could see me in a vision. And he said the same thing both times—Help her.”
“Maybe he was talking about his cat,” Gramps suggested. “They took a cat out of his house. People get very attached to their pets.”
“Maybe. I guess we’ll find out.”
When I got home, I soaked in a hot bath, but I was too disturbed by the night’s events to really relax. I wasn’t sure if I’d done something different to make my gift behave in this new way or if Chuck himself was the reason for the change. Of course, as with all aspects of the gifts life had given me, there was no guidebook I could consult. No way of knowing what to do next.
Since Kevin’s arrival in Duck, I’d grown accustomed to talking things like this over with him. He had experience in the FBI dealing with paranormal elements. Ann was a powerful psychic, according to Kevin. Her abilities had increased after she’d been shot during a case. She couldn’t handle what she saw anymore.
Having Kevin as a confidant, someone with whom I could discuss things that many other people didn’t understand, had been wonderful. He’d experienced so much more than I ever had. When my own abilities had grown, he’d been there for me.
But now, I didn’t feel like I could just call him or go over and drink coffee with him while we talked. I was going to have to find another way of dealing with what was happening to me.
That left me with my friend Shayla. Shayla was a true medium who could readily talk to ghosts. She was from New Orleans, where her relatives were witches and other interesting occupations.
She knew a lot about the spirit world. We’d met because I’d wanted to contact my mother’s ghost and find a way to put things right between us. That hadn’t happened, but my friendship with Shayla had developed as a result of those efforts.
Sometimes, I was uncomfortable talking to her about my gifts. She freely scoffed at things that I found amazing. I suspected that she’d already seen so many supernatural happenings in her life, she didn’t think mine were all that interesting. She never gave me the warm, fuzzy feeling the way Kevin did. I had to get over that too.
I finally climbed in bed after midnight. A wind had begun blowing from the Atlantic side of the island. I lay there for a long time listening to it, wondering where it had come from and what other places it had been.
I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I was dreaming about the burgundy Lincoln again, the one I’d seen Chuck with at Harris Teeter the night he was killed.
A little girl was sitting on the hood of the car. She had a round face with chubby pink cheeks and big blue eyes. Her brown hair was in curls that looked as though they’d been mussed by the wind I’d heard before I fell asleep.
“Hello. Who are you?” she asked me.
This was obviously going to become a habit. It scared me a little when I considered all the places I’d been in my dreams and visions. If everyone could see me, that made it more personal. Maybe more dangerous.
“I’m Dae,” I said finally, not sure if she could hear me.
She nodded and smiled. “I’m Betsy Sparks. I’m waiting for my daddy to come and get me.”
Betsy Sparks? Chuck had a daughter?
“Where is your daddy?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, her tiny shoulders pitiful under the extra-large brown sweater she wore. “I thought he’d be here by now. Can you find him? You’re the finder lady, aren’t you?”
I wasn’t sure what to tell her. I wasn’t sure if this was real or my imagination. I’d convinced myself that what had happened at the beach with Chuck turning his head and talking to me wasn’t real. I didn’t know what to think about this little girl.
“What’s your daddy’s name?” I decided to test her.
“His name is Charlie, but most people call him Chuck. Like that little girl with Charlie Brown, you know?”
“I know.” I was confused. I didn’t know Chuck well, but it seemed like I would know if he had a child. If nothing else, local gossip would’ve been lamenting his involvement in the real estate scandal because he had a daughter who needed him.
The only other possibility came to me slowly. In my defense, I was dreaming. “Did you just move to Duck to live with your daddy?”
“Yes. My mommy—”
Betsy suddenly held up her arms and began kicking at something, or someone. She pounded at it and screamed. She looked as though she were being lifted up and moved from the car by some unseen force. She fought as hard as she could, but she could not free herself from whatever gripped her. She called to her father over and over.
I wanted to help, but though I was substantial enough for her to see me, my hands and arms went through Betsy and the invisible entity that was taking her. I screamed at them to let her go, lending my voice to hers. But there was nothing I could do. In an instant, she was gone , vanished, and so was the Lincoln.
Chuck Sparks was still there, dying in the parking lot. He turned his head again and said, “Help her.”
Chapter 6
I woke up, my chest heaving and tears streaming down my face. I had to get out of bed and go downstairs. I was too caught up in the dream to go back to sleep. It kept replaying over and over like a bad movie.
But I was convinced that it was real. Finding Chuck’s body on the beach was no accident.
Gramps was downstairs watching reruns of Gilligan’s Island. There was no way to disguise my red eyes, sniffling and tears spilling down my cheeks. When he saw me, he turned off the TV and came to put his arms around me.
“Aw, honey. He just wasn’t the right man for you. Another one will come along. I’m sorry I pushed you into meeting him.”
“I’m not crying about Kevin.”
“Of course you’re not.” He scratched his white beard. “I just wish your mama or grandma were alive to talk to you about all this female stuff. I know I haven’t been much good at that. Thank God your mother was still alive when you were a teenager.”
I had to laugh at that. Poor Gramps. He felt like he’d never understood. In many cases, he was right. “That’s not what I mean.” I told him about the dream. “I think Chuck may have a daughter.”
“I don’t recall ever hearing about a daughter, do you?”
“No. But we weren’t close to him. We could check with the school tomorrow. She looked like she was big enough to be in school.”
“But that’s assuming she lives here in Duck.”
“True. But she was in the Harris Teeter parking lot. And she said she lived here.”
“Maybe you should mention this to Ronnie first,” he said. “You know he doesn’t like you to see these things and go off on your own.”
“I think I should check with the school first. I mean, her name is Betsy Sparks, she said. Once I find out if she’s registered here, then I’ll say something to the chief.”
“I’ll be glad to go with you, if you need a sidekick.”
“I’ll be fine. I don’t want you to give up your fishing charter tomorrow. Thanks anyway. I never ate that corn muffin before the debate. I’m starving now. I’ll just ru
mmage around until I find something. You go ahead and find out what happened to poor Gilligan.”
He hugged me. “Don’t worry, honey. It’ll all be fine. Everything will turn out right. You’ll see.”
Someone knocked at the back door—a quiet rap, not pounding. It startled me, and I looked at the clock over the mantle. A little after two A.M. Not even the most stalwart Duck citizen would come to see me that late.
“Who could that be?” Gramps opened the drawer in the table beside his recliner where he kept his old service revolver. The Dare County Sheriff’s Department had given it to him as a gift when he retired.
“It might just be the wind. It’s picked up out there. I’ll look.”
“You’re barely decent!”
I pulled my old robe closed over my shorts and tank top. “Girls wear less on the beach over the summer. I’ll be fine. Better me in my shorts than you with your gun.”
Before we could argue about it anymore, I yanked open the door—amazed to find Kevin standing on the porch.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I had a dream and I just couldn’t put it out of my head. Are you okay?”
I nodded, not sure what to say. We stood there and looked at each other for a minute or two. Gramps had turned back to Gilligan again as soon as he saw there wasn’t a threat.
“Let’s sit out here,” I said, closing the door behind me.
We sat in the old rocking chairs on the porch. We could see the Currituck Sound from there with the moon as bright as day. The wind ruffled up the water and stirred the bushes around us. Chimes rang out from Old Man Sweeney’s house next door.
“Is something going on with you besides that problem with your neighbor?” Kevin finally asked.
“There’s been a new development in that.” I told him about finding Chuck’s body at the beach and about Chuck’s dead, and almost-dead, form talking to me.
“I knew it.” He sat back in the rocker as though he was vindicated in coming over at this late hour.
“I appreciate you coming over but—”
“I know. I shouldn’t be here.” He got up and leaned against the screen door leading off of the porch. “I’m sorry. This isn’t easy for me either. I’ve grown so attuned to you that I guess I could just tell something was wrong.”
I kept rocking, not saying anything, glad I couldn’t see his face in the shadows.
“Maybe you could call me. I know it sounds like a bad movie line, but I wish we could still be friends through this. You know you mean a lot to me.”
I wasn’t sure I could put a smile on my face and deal with this in a cheerful way. Sure, Kevin, let’s be friends. I can still tell you all the strange things happening to me. You can tell me about Ann and how your relationship is going.
“Dae?”
I drew a deep breath. “I don’t want this to sound mean, but I can’t do that right now. Maybe later when it’s not so fresh. I know this isn’t something you meant to happen, but here we are. I need some time and space to get over it.”
He didn’t answer for a long time. Finally he said, “I understand. I’m just worried about you. I don’t know what it means that someone in a vision could see you and talk to you. It’s a change in your gift. Be careful. Until you understand it, you don’t know what will happen.”
I closed my eyes and tried to tell my heart to stop being so stupid. It was like his words were part of me. I could feel them resonate, soothing the tension I’d felt from the dream.
When I opened my eyes, he was gone. He was out there with the wind, walking back to the Blue Whale Inn—without me. I couldn’t express, even to myself, how much I wanted to be with him.
But encouraging him to want to be with me would be wrong. That poor woman had been through so much. Kevin was a good man, and I wanted him, but Ann needed him now. I hated it, and I hated myself in some ways for being willing to step aside and let him be with her. Maybe I should have fought for him.
I went inside again and thought about going back to sleep. It wasn’t going to happen. Instead, I went upstairs and put on jeans and a T-shirt. I waved to Gramps as I went out the door. “I’m going to Missing Pieces for a while. I’ll see you later.”
“Are you all right, honey?”
“Sure. Or if not, I will be. Love you, Gramps.”
“I love you too, Dae.”
I’d expected him to protest my going to the shop so late (or early), but he seemed to understand. Handling all my treasures made me happy and relieved some of my stress. It usually did, anyway. I hoped it would be the answer tonight too.
The Duck Shoppes on the Boardwalk were quiet and dark. The parking lot was empty. I ran up the stairs, a little nervous. Years ago, I wouldn’t have thought anything of being here all night. I’d spent many nights on the burgundy brocade sofa in the shop.
But Mad Dog was right. Duck was changing. I didn’t think it had anything to do with me being mayor. It was the times we lived in. People from outside were beginning to discover our little part of paradise. That would be fine if all of them were like Kevin, but some of them were like Derek Johnson. Duck would never be the same again. We’d have to grow and survive. But it wouldn’t be the place where I grew up. It already wasn’t.
I walked along the pearly gray boardwalk, the moon still illuminating the night and the waves lapping at the wood posts that supported the walkway. All the shops were dark. I knew Shayla met clients here at night from time to time. But not tonight, not this late. Wild Stallions was closed and shuttered too, only a flashing neon “Closed” sign marking the restaurant.
I slipped my key into the lock at Missing Pieces, opened the door and turned on the light before closing the door behind me and locking it. I sighed and immediately lost all my sense of panic. I was home.
I’d spent my life collecting things. Many of those collected treasures were still here on the walls and in the glass display cases. I loved all of them like they were my children. I sold them to keep the store open and bring in a little money, not because I wanted to. Finding these treasures was my true gift—my true passion. Nothing and no one could take that away.
Things had changed for me since my childhood when I could innocently hold someone’s hand and help them find some item they’d lost—as I’d done for Old Man Sweeney.
Now those items spoke back to me, showing me where and how they were made as well as who owned them. The experience wasn’t always pleasant. I’d had to sell many of the personal items I’d collected because I couldn’t bear to touch them anymore. Their backgrounds were too terrible to envision every day. I had become more careful about what I picked up and purchased for the shop.
I put the teakettle on the hot plate and walked around, looking at everything, touching each piece and dusting where it was needed.
It was morning before I knew it, gray light creeping across the island. I was no closer to understanding my dream about Betsy or why Chuck could talk to me after he was dead. I had no idea who had killed Chuck. I wished it hadn’t happened here.
Stan, the UPS guy, came and went. Missing Pieces was the UPS stop in Duck. I’d taken it on, hoping to attract more local customers. It hadn’t worked out the way I’d planned. People came to pick up their packages and sometimes stayed to gossip but rarely bought anything. Being so dependent on tourists made it hard to keep up the rent in the off-season, which was most of the year.
I closed the shop and started back home. It seemed odd, since that was the reverse of what should’ve been happening. But I had to go home and change clothes so I could check to see if there was any child named Betsy Sparks at Duck Elementary School.
Trudy was just coming in for an early appointment at Curves and Curls. As usual she looked perfect with her smooth platinum hair and gorgeous tan. If she hadn’t been my friend for as long as I could remember, I might be jealous. But Trudy and I had been through a lot together.
As we met on the boardwalk, she dropped her cloth shopping bags and threw her arms around me. “Oh, Dae
, I’ve been thinking about you all night. I’m so sorry this happened to you. It’s not fair. Old girlfriends aren’t supposed to come back to haunt you.”
“I’m okay,” I lied. I didn’t tell her about finding Chuck or my dream about Betsy. Trudy wasn’t good at handling the weird stuff. “Kevin needs to be with Ann.”
“And that’s the kind of thinking that’s going to make you die alone and unloved.”
That’s kind of harsh. “Maybe I’ll find someone else. I’m not dead yet.”
“But if you won’t fight for him, how can you expect to win?”
“For once, I agree with Trudy!” Shayla, walking down the boardwalk toward us, chimed in. Her large dark glasses covered most of her face. “You need to get over there and kick that skinny, ex-FBI agent’s ass!”
Trudy nodded in agreement. “That’s exactly right. I’m sure everyone in Duck is going to treat her like something the sea dragged in. But we can’t do it alone. You have to fight too.”
“I don’t know what the two of you have been drinking this morning,” I said, hoping they weren’t serious, but afraid they were. “But I want some. Where are you hiding it?”
Trudy laughed, but Shayla was dead serious. “Mock me if you want, but I can already see changes in your aura. Things are going to go bad for you, Dae, if you don’t take control of the situation. I can help, if you like. I have a time-tested love spell that would have Kevin eating out of your hand.”
August Grandin passed by us on the boardwalk. His face said that he’d heard some of what we’d been talking about. “Ladies,” he greeted us. “Witches were never welcomed here in Duck. You recall the old tale about Maggie Madison.”
“She was a witch,” Trudy explained to Shayla. “I think the other Bankers may have killed her.”
“Back in the 1600s,” I clarified. “Not recently.”
Shayla laughed. “I knew I hadn’t seen any witches around here.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” August said as he left us with the warning.
