by Becky Durfee
“That’s definitely the plan,” Dr. Wilson replied. “We just need to figure out the most delicate way to do that.”
“Delicate?” Jenny asked before her filter had a chance to stop her. “Wouldn’t this be good news for Matthew?”
“It would be good in the sense that they survived, yes. The only problem is that the young girl on the train is now in her sixties. She’s led an entire life that Matthew didn’t get to be a part of. That aspect of it might be difficult for him to hear.”
Jenny thought back to her earlier conversation, where she had come to the conclusion that spirits did have a sense of passing time. “You don’t think he realizes it’s been that long?”
“Maybe not,” Dr. Wilson said. “You said yourself that some spirits are aware of how long it’s been because they have a point of reference, specifically if they watch a loved one grow up or grow old. But if Matthew has been spending this time around the crash site looking for his wife and daughter, he may not be aware it’s been sixty years.”
Kayla’s voice was solemn when she noted, “It probably feels like longer.”
“We have to get him out of that hell,” Mary said with conviction. “If he’s been frozen in time in that one terrible spot, we need to save him from that.”
“Agreed,” Dr. Wilson replied, “but like I said, we have to be delicate, not only for Matthew’s sake, but for Devon’s.”
“Will he be in danger?” Kayla asked.
“No,” Wilson replied impatiently. Jenny guessed his intolerance was because he had mentioned this before, although, to her, it seemed a bit rude. “I just don’t want to overwhelm him.”
“So what do we do?” Mary asked.
“Mary, I need you to send me some photographs of the milestones in your life…high school graduation, your wedding, the births of your children, if you have any. We can show those to Devon and let Matthew know you are no longer the nine-year-old girl who rode the train that day. Once he’s had enough time to get used to that idea, we can introduce you to him.”
“Should I bring my children along when I meet him?” Mary asked. “Or even my grandchildren?” Her tone became softer when she added, “I have to admit, one of my biggest regrets is that my father never got to see his grandchildren—and now his great-grandchildren.”
An uncharacteristic smile graced Dr. Wilson’s lips. “Let’s see how this goes; hopefully that will be able to happen.”
When Mary got off the phone to search her house for pertinent photographs, the others decided to get lunch. While the five of them sat in a booth waiting for their food to arrive, Jenny seized the opportunity to bring up the other source of her curiosity. “Dr. Wilson, I still have an interest in meeting Keith.”
“I have no objection to that,” Dr. Wilson replied, pausing to sip his water through a straw, “although your doctor might.”
Jenny placed her hand on her belly. “Does he live far away?”
“Colorado, to be precise. I don’t think you’d be allowed to fly out there, as pregnant as you are.”
With slumping shoulders, Jenny couldn’t mask her disappointment. “Well, do any of your other…clients…live within driving distance?”
Dr. Wilson stiffened, albeit slightly, causing Jenny to wonder what nerve she had just struck. “Only one.”
He didn’t elaborate.
“Which one is it?” Jenny’s curiosity had multiplied when she saw his reaction, leading her to wonder which of the children from his article could have caused him to respond that way.
“No one you know of.” Dr. Wilson shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I haven’t written about her yet.”
Once again, Jenny remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. This time, he spoke more on the subject. “About a hundred miles from here, there’s a little girl who, not too long ago, dealt with a spirit that was…” He twisted his face as he searched for the appropriate word. Ultimately, he settled on, “more agitated than most.”
“More agitated?” Kayla asked, the fear evident on her face.
Dr. Wilson nodded. “It was the first time I’d seen any hostility; the other spirits prior to hers had all been rather benevolent.”
With a furrowed brow and a piqued curiosity, Jenny asked, “How did the spirit let you know it was angry?”
He sighed and lowered his shoulders. “It was the girl’s behavior when she was being visited.” He held up his hand in Kayla’s direction and assured her, “She was never in any danger…she just acted in a way that was very uncharacteristic for a five-year-old girl.”
Dr. Wilson seemed reluctant to divulge the specific behavior, which only made Jenny all the more curious to hear it. “What did she do?”
With defeat, he admitted, “Swearing. Spitting. Blatant disrespect.” Dr. Wilson’s eyes met Jenny’s. “Adverse reactions every time she saw a police officer.”
“Who was she?” Zack asked. “I mean, who had taken her over?”
Shaking his head, Dr. Wilson admitted, “We never did find out. Every time we tried to ask the questions that would lead us to determine who the spirit was, we were only greeted with vague replies. It was as if he—or she—was perfectly happy with us not discovering an identity.”
Jenny sat up straighter. “Is this girl still being plagued by the spirit’s presence?”
“No, she has since outgrown it. She’s eight now.”
Tapping her foot under the table, Jenny commented, “She may have outgrown it, but that doesn’t mean the spirit is gone.” She looked around the table at the others. “I would like to go there after we get Matthew his answers. I want to see what this is about.”
Zack turned toward Jenny. “Do you really think that’s a good idea? Going to visit an angry spirit when you’re pregnant?”
“It can’t hurt me,” she replied. “I would just like to figure out what it wants in case it has plans to take over another child.”
“What if it wants to kill people?” Zack asked. “And he wants to use you as a tool to carry it out?”
“I’m quite sure I’ll be able to resist the urge.”
Dr. Wilson looked intrigued. “Jenny, you said that you were able to instantly recognize that Devon had the gift when you met him. How were you able to do that?”
“There’s an aura that surrounds people who have it,” she explained. “I can’t describe it with words very well, but it’s almost like déjà vu…when I come in contact with a fellow psychic, I just know it.”
He contemplated that information for a moment. “I would love to introduce you to this little girl,” he eventually said. “It would be wonderful to know if one of these children would trigger that reaction in you. My current belief is that they are not actually psychic, because I would imagine they wouldn’t outgrow that, but it would be great to know for sure.” He leaned forward onto his elbows. “Since you have an interest in meeting her, I will contact the girl’s mother and see if she’s willing to let her daughter meet you. I know the mother was quite relieved when the spirit stopped coming around and that chapter of their lives seemed to be over. Considering her daughter’s behavior during that time, she may be reluctant to revisit it.”
“Well, if we can figure out what this spirit wants, he may cross over and never be a threat to anyone’s child again.” Jenny immediately regretted her word choice of threat in Kayla’s presence. She hoped it would fly under the radar. Undeterred, she added, “Hopefully that will be incentive enough for the mother to agree.”
“I imagine it would be.”
At that point, the food arrived, temporarily diverting the conversation. Halfway through the meal, Dr. Wilson glanced at his phone. “It looks like I have a few photographs waiting for me.” His eyes scanned the others. “Once we’re done here, I’ll go print these out. Then we can take Matthew on a little trip through time.”
Worry was evident on Kayla’s face as she glanced down at her son. She placed her hand lovingly on his back, a gesture that he didn’t even seem to notice.
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“Don’t worry, Kayla,” Jenny whispered sympathetically. “From what I can gather, Matthew is kind. He was a father, after all—I think he’ll be sensitive to the fact that he’s dealing with somebody’s child.”
Kayla nodded silently, looking distant. Ultimately, she focused her gaze on Jenny, simply adding, “I just hope we don’t make him angry.”
“I will take this as far as I can until Matthew disappears or Devon begins to seem agitated, which I sincerely doubt,” Dr. Wilson explained as he straightened out the photographs in his hands. He sat on the edge of the bed in the hotel room, using his lap to help organize his pictures. “There is no hurry on this; we will take as long as we need to let Matthew know just how much time has passed.”
Kayla stood with her arms folded tightly across her chest. As nervous as Jenny was, she knew Kayla had to be even more so.
Perhaps due to experience—or maybe the lack of a soul—Dr. Wilson seemed unfazed. “Does anyone have any questions before we get started?”
The others exchanged glances, their silence implying they had nothing to ask.
“Okay, then, I guess we can bring Devon in.”
Jenny got up from her seat and went to the door, calling Zack and Devon inside from the hallway. Devon had a candy bar in his hand, giving away their whereabouts while the adults had conferred. “You guys can come on in, if you want.”
The child came bounding in the room; Zack walked in a little more reluctantly. The tension in the room was palpable, making Jenny wonder whether or not Devon could sense it. His behavior, however, led her to believe he was oblivious to anything and everything that was going on around him.
“Hey, Devon,” Dr. Wilson said with remarkable ease, “can you come here for a second?”
Devon didn’t say a word as he jumped—literally jumped—over to Dr. Wilson and looked up at him with wide eyes.
Exposing a photograph, Dr. Wilson asked, “Do you know who this is, Devon?”
He studied the picture wordlessly for a moment. “That’s Maribel.”
“And how old is Maribel?”
“Nine.”
“She’s nine?”
“Yup.”
The doctor removed that photograph from the stack, revealing the next one. “Devon, do you know who this is?”
He looked at the picture, and his wiggling suddenly stopped. His brow lowered, and he noted, “That looks like Maribel, but she’s too old.”
“That is Maribel, actually,” Dr. Wilson said matter-of-factly. “She survived the fire, and here she is at her thirteenth birthday party.”
Devon remained motionless, captivated by the image in front of him.
“What do you think about that?” Dr. Wilson asked.
For a long time, Devon said nothing. He looked as if he was studying every detail of the picture. Ultimately he asked, “Where is she?”
Wilson seemed confused by the question. “Do you mean, where is she now?”
With a slight nod, Devon added, “Is she with Julia?”
“Not right now,” Dr. Wilson told him, “but Julia did survive the fire as well.”
Still frozen, Devon seemed to be absorbing the information, although it looked like he was both overwhelmed and terribly confused. He pointed at the picture, remarking, “But if she’s thirteen…”
He said nothing else.
Standing up straight, Devon giggled as he flopped his upper body onto the bed. He rolled over so the back of his head was on the bed and he faced the ceiling, his arms flailing loosely like a jellyfish.
The session was clearly over.
Jenny’s eyes remained fixated on Dr. Wilson, who nonchalantly organized the pictures and put them back in his file. “At least we made some progress,” he declared.
“How so?” Kayla asked, taking the words out of Jenny’s mouth.
“It registered,” he explained. “Confusion is to be expected.” He put the file into his bag. “Imagine you were in a similar situation—you were just shown a picture of someone you know, but that person is visibly older in the photograph. Wouldn’t that throw you for a bit of a loop?”
Jenny remained silent as she contemplated the situation.
Dr. Wilson continued, “If I am to guess, I would suspect that Matthew is trying to digest this information right about now. He’s probably realizing that his last memory is the train fire, but time has obviously passed since then.”
“Do you think he’s just now realizing he’s dead?” Kayla asked.
With a shrug, Dr. Wilson said, “It’s possible.” He looked at Kayla intently. “As you could imagine, that would be a difficult notion to accept.”
She flashed a worried glance at her son, who had since busied himself with other things.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Jenny began, “I don’t think Matthew is around. I mean, speaking from my own personal experience, in between visions, I lead a perfectly normal life, seeing things only through my own eyes. If the spirits go through any…difficulty…I don’t pick up on that unless I’m in the throes of a vision.”
Kayla didn’t say anything; she just looked helplessly at Jenny.
Zack watched Devon for a moment before declaring, “He seems okay to me.”
At that moment, Devon walked up to his mother and asked for his tablet. She released a breath and said, “Sure, baby, I’ll get it for you.”
As Jenny watched this exchange, the baby in her own belly began to hiccup, reminding her of its presence. Sympathy surged through her veins, as did a small amount of fear. Seeing Kayla and Devon interacting, Jenny may have been looking at a glimpse of her own future—desperately trying to instill normalcy in the life of a child who was anything but.
Despite the fact that Jenny had found herself caught up in the moment, Zack clearly hadn’t been. “So, what do we do now?” he asked the doctor.
Dr. Wilson responded matter-of-factly, “Now, we wait.”
There they were—three of the words Jenny hated most. She felt the need to be doing something productive to make the time go faster; she certainly couldn’t just sit there and watch the time tick by until Matthew made another appearance. “Dr. Wilson, now that it seems we have a little time to kill, can you tell us a little more about the girl who was visited by the not-so-friendly spirit?”
“In fact I can,” he replied. “I called the mother while I was printing these pictures out, and she agreed to meet with you. She also gave me permission to discuss the specifics of the case.”
Jenny briefly wondered if semantics had posed a problem for the slightly-too-intelligent doctor. She wasn’t really asking if he could talk about the girl; she was wondering if he would discuss her. She waited for a moment, debating whether she should ask the question again using better phrasing, but she didn’t need to.
“Her name is Addison Roth,” Dr. Wilson began, “but she goes by Addy.”
“Who?” Zack asked. “The mother or the daughter?”
“The daughter. The mother’s name is Cheryl—she came to me after several months of hearing her daughter use dated—and derogatory—vernacular for the police and authority in general. At times, Addy was acting more like a belligerent teenager than a typical preschooler. Those moments were fleeting, though, causing Cheryl to wonder just what was causing them.”
“What made her suspect it was a spirit?” Jenny asked.
“The terminology. Addy was using slang that hadn’t been commonly used in decades, referring to cops as ‘pigs’ and such. Cheryl couldn’t imagine that Addy had heard those terms during her short lifetime.”
“Pigs,” Zack repeated thoughtfully. “Isn’t that a sixties term?”
“Thereabouts,” Dr. Wilson confirmed. “She also spoke a lot about ‘the man,’ which is another indication that we’re dealing with that time period.”
Kayla looked concerned. “How do you know that Addy wasn’t talking about an actual man?”
“Cheryl didn’t, at first. As you can imagine, she was quite concerned wh
en her three-year-old daughter started talking about ‘the man,’ especially in the context Addy used. She had mentioned that the man was out to get them all, and of course Cheryl’s first thought was that there was an actual man threatening the family. When questioned about it, though, Addy clarified that she was talking about the government.” Dr. Wilson looked at each of the faces around him. “How many three-year-olds know about the government, let alone are able to spew out theories that the government is spying on them and is out to sabotage them?”
Jenny rubbed her eyes. “Okay, so you say you have no indications about who this person may have been…but you said the spirit was agitated and made Addy act in inappropriate ways.” She said it like a statement, although really it had been more of a question.
“That is correct,” the doctor agreed.
“Exactly what kind of behavior did she exhibit?” Kayla asked.
“Well, it all began at the South Carolina State Fair, apparently. There were a few police officers standing in a row near the entrance, and Addy made some kind of comment about the pigs being there. Cheryl and her husband were mortified; they had never used such a term, and they couldn’t imagine where she could have heard it. Not only that, but they had always taught Addy to trust the police. When they reminded her of that, she replied by telling her parents that by assuming that attitude, they were part of the problem. Then, when they walked by the officers, Addy spit at them.”
“Like, spit at them, spit at them?” Zack asked. “Or just stuck out her tongue and went phhht.”
“She shot saliva in their direction,” the doctor said mechanically.
Jenny only shook her head, imagining how shocked the parents must have been by that behavior, hoping she would never know the feeling personally.
“That was just the first of many incidents,” Dr. Wilson continued. “She seemed to always react that way when she saw law enforcement, to the point where her parents went to great lengths to never bring her to a place where officers might be. Although, as you can imagine, that is something you can’t always predict.”
